Chapter Nine
Now
“I really like that furtive way you sneak glances at me as you go about your chores. Your eyes look really… hungry.”
The words – obviously, I suppose, given what had passed between us up to now – were spoken by me as I watched my husband take my laundry from the washer and place it in the basket prior to using the iron as he had been taught. It was a Friday morning and I was working from home – a prescient move on my part given the exertions of the night before. Also, it was half-term and the girls had gone to my parents for a long weekend, so my husband and I had the place to ourselves.
Barefoot in the way that I liked to see him these days and adorned in the shapeless track-suit I insisted he wear to do his chores, and one he at least found more preferable than the p
