Epilogue
Zara - Two Years Later
Isighed as I stared at the pile of dishes that greeted me: pots, pans, five plates and endless utensils and cutlery. The oven was sticky, and the table needed a wipe down.
But then a smile curved my lips, which quickly turned into a wide grin. The effort my husband put into cooking a three-course meal for all of us was nothing to be annoyed about. Who knew my man had it in him to produce something better than anything I'd eaten at a restaurant?
Okay, the chicken was a little overdone, and the mashed potatoes were a bit lumpy.
But to me, it was a five-star meal, because it was made with love.
Hell, he'd even baked me a chocolate cake, and he'd used the ice cream maker my mum had gotten us for Christmas to make a creamy-looking vanilla bean ice cream. I was one lucky girl.
When he told me last week he wanted to take me out for my birthday, I told him I just wanted to stay in and chill.
My husband heard that and thought: "bet!
" Before proceeding to give me the most thoughtful evening with my family.
When he insisted on taking care of the dishes, I had to put my foot down and remind him that he was trying too hard again.
He'd been stressed out the whole day, cooking and prepping up a storm—it was his turn to relax.
Once I'd taken care of the dishes and wiped down the kitchen, I joined James on the couch. Kehlani was reading quietly in the corner while my mum was playing Guess Who? with Sienna.
A heavy hand clasped my thigh, rubbing it gently.
"Okay?" James asked, his brown eyes full of love and a little tiredness.
"Mmm hmm. Best birthday ever."
"What about the time we went to Fiji for your twenty-fifth?"
I shook my head. "Best birthday ever."
"What about last year when I surprised you with a weekend away to Waiheke Island?"
"Best birthday ever," I firmly repeated.
He grinned before leaning over to kiss me. "I love you," he murmured against my mouth.
I ignored the exaggerated gags coming from Kehlani, kissing my husband even deeper.
He linked our fingers before bringing my hand to his mouth for a lingering peck. He then sighed and rose, my fingers falling out of his.
"Enough of that, Mrs Dixon. Time for the birthday girl to blow out her candles. Don't worry, I have a three and a seven candle—don't wanna burn the house down with thirty-seven candles."
I threw a pillow at him. "You're a dick. You do know that you're a whole three years older than me?"
"You're only as old as the woman you feel," he winked.
I rolled my eyes despite the mirth threatening to crease my lips. "Go get my cake, loser."
His answering snicker pulled a wide grin from my face, and I relaxed back on the couch with a satisfied and happy sigh.
***
The End