Page 84 of Love Wells Kept

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t even need to pay her. That’s just a typical day in our house.”

He shakes his head. “That’s what I love so much about it.”

Jackson

Kate’s infectious laughter fills the one-room cabin, a wash of color warms her fair skin—whether from the heat of the crackling fire in the stone fireplace, the sparkling wine she’s been sipping straight from the bottle, or the question I just asked her, it’s hard to know. Flickers of firelight play across the bedspread, illuminating the wine bottle, the pizza.

“No, no. Skip.”

“Don’t be a poor sport.” I’ve only had a couple minuscule sips of her wine for fear that I’ll get a headache later and not be able to take my painkillers, but I feel a buzz tingling the length of my spine. I bypassed all the platonic or emotional questions and went right to the bottom of the list—the explicit section I almost didn’t note down because I was positive I’d never have the balls to ask Kate such deeply personal things. Funny how liquid courage works. “We’ve come so far. You can’t start skipping questions now.”

“Says who? You failed to mention there were rules.” She untucks her knees from under her and extends her willowy legs across the bed, then picks a piece of pineapple from the pizza between us and pops it onto her tongue. “But fine. I guess my favorite sex position is the butter churner.”

My eyes go wide. The what?! I’m aware I’m a solid sixteen years behind where I used to be when it comes to sexual knowledge—my body seems to know what to do, but my brain’s playing catch-up—but how freaky were we before the accident?

“The…like…the old-timey thing?” I do a butter-churning motion with my hands.

A goofy, lopsided smile overtakes her face.

I groan-laugh. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see. Your turn to answer the question.” She’s been making me answer, not accepting my argument that I don’t know a lot of the answers. I make them up. She tells me my ability to come up with a story on the fly is the reason the kids love my story time better than hers.

“The, uh…” I glance around the impromptu picnic we have strewn across the bed, seeking inspiration so I don’t hit her with something lame like missionary. Though, to be fair, I’d happily have sex with my wife in any position. “The Double-Hawaiian Pretzel.”

“Oh yeah?” She lifts the bottle of wine to her lips. “How does that one work again?”

“Well, it’s kind of—” I twist my hands, mangling my fingers into what could be a depiction of tangled limbs or the mess of fishing line that ultimately made me give up early when I went fishing with my dad and brothers.

She smiles up at me. Big hazel eyes, fluttering eyelashes, rosy cheeks. And I feel achy not only in my chest, but all over.

I reach for the wine, take a pull and let the heady, fizzy liquid sit on my tongue for a few seconds before swallowing. I take in my surroundings, taking pleasure in the bubbly feeling in my stomach. The cabin’s rustic, decorated with antiques that remind me of home, and the firelight casts our shadows on the wall behind Kate. Anywhere with her is my favorite place in the world, but here tonight might be my favorite of favorites.

“Okay, but where is your favorite place to have sex?” I ask.

“Here’s the thing…you’ve always been a bit…vanilla,” she says, then quickly adds, “That’s not a bad thing. It’s always been good—best I’ve ever had, genuinely. So I didn’t push for you to be more adventurous.”

She says it’s not a bad thing, but there’s no way it’s a good thing, either.

“Let me change the question then…where would you like to have sex?” My heart beats a hundred miles per hour as I wait for her answer.

“Jackson, it’s not a big deal,” she insists. “I’m more than happy with our sex life.”

“If you could pick anywhere.” My voice wobbles. “Doesn’t mean we’ll necessarily do it.”

We will.

Kate studies me. Her elbows dip into the thick bedding to support her upper body, and her tongue skates between her lips.

“I guess…” She thinks another moment.

I reach to brush the hair off her shoulder. Touching her feels second nature to me now, and a slight brush of skin on skin is enough to tame my darkest demons. Kate’s smile, the look of adoration she always has for me. I’m not sure she knows she does it, but her presence is inherently calming. Funny, given she’s also my biggest bully.

“I guess I’d say in the hot springs.”

“In the hot springs?”

Her hackles raise. “You said anywhere and it doesn’t mean we’ll do it.”