Chapter 12
Evan
“I s it hot in here, or is it just me?” I ask on Wednesday, as Jane and I eat lunch together.
I wince. Did that sound dirty?
“I mean, do you think the a/c is working?” I amend. I’m sweating, and while I’m particularly prone to sweating, I’m usually comfortable inside our house, which is set at 23°C; the basement, where I work, is a couple of degrees cooler.
Jane sets down her chopsticks. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s a bit warm.” She gets up.
“You don’t have to…” My voice trails off. She’s already at the thermostat.
“It’s twenty-six in here.”
Shit. After the morning I’ve had, the thought of figuring this out is a little too much.
Jane heads to the basement, where the heat pump is located. I finish my last few bites of lunch and join her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, though I don’t expect her to have an answer.
She shrugs. “You go back to work, and I’ll worry about this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I return to my basement office, which is blessedly cooler than the kitchen, and I’ve spent about twenty minutes answering emails when there’s a knock on the door of my office.
“Come in,” I say.
Jane appears in the doorway. “I tried a bunch of things I found online, but nothing worked. So, I called a local repair guy. He’s on vacation, but the second company I called can come tomorrow morning.”
I know this is all stuff I could do myself. However, it’s nice to have someone else take care of it. I would have gotten anxious, wondered why the hell I thought I was ready for home ownership, then beaten myself up for freaking out.
“Thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”
Do I sound too grateful? I don’t know. But it’s better than taking Jane for granted.
We decide it’s too hot to cuddle while watching our K-drama that evening, but with a fan, I manage to sleep okay, and the doorbell rings at 11 a.m. Though it’s quickly followed by the sound of Jane’s footsteps on the stairs, I figure I should go up, too.
I arrive just as Jane opens the door to a white man in his fifties. When he asks what the problem is, he looks directly at me. Because I’m the man of the household, I guess.
However, when she answers, he immediately redirects his attention and further questions to her, and she leads him to the basement. I debate whether to stay with them, but Jane looks comfortable enough handling this, so I head to my office, though I keep the door open.
Fifteen minutes later, she appears at my door and names something that needs to be replaced, which he’s doing right now. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but it’s apparently three hundred dollars, and everything will be operational again soon, which is the important part. While I cringe a little at the price, it could have been so much worse. Besides, we’ve budgeted for repairs like this.
And Jane really does look nice in that blue V-neck T-shirt and jeans shorts. Her skin glistens with sweat, and I think it would also be nice to see her sweating beneath me…
No! Why am I thinking about that?
I scrub a hand over my face.
“Evan?” she says. “Is that okay with you?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Of course.”
My attraction to Jane is really becoming a problem, and I swear my heart skips a beat in the silliest of situations. Like when she found Watson sitting in her chair at dinnertime, and the left corner of her mouth curled up. Just a little thing, but I’m still thinking about it twenty-four hours later.
And thinking about other things involving her mouth.
The night after the heat pump is repaired, we return to cuddling while we watch the K-drama, but I miss a bunch of dialogue because I’m too busy focusing on her skin against mine to read the subtitles—and too embarrassed to ask to go back. Fortunately, she rarely wants to discuss the episode afterward. I’d make a fool of myself if she did.
Ugh. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But the combination of her capability and composure—plus her occasional vulnerability—is getting to me.
The next day at dinner, she tells me that Gina emailed her back. She hadn’t really expected a response from her childhood friend, even if she still checked that email address semi-regularly, but Gina seemed happy to hear from her. There’s a strange look on Jane’s face, which I read as fond sadness, and it stirs more unwanted feelings in me.
Yeah, I cannot be alone with this woman all weekend.
When we’re cleaning up, I say, “How about we have Max and Kim over for a meal?”
“You’re an idiot,” I mutter to myself as Jane enters the kitchen, wearing dark jeans and the black shirt that she wore on our date last week.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Nothing!” I say. “Nothing at all.”
“It sounded like you were talking to the cheese.” She gestures to the cheese board that I’m in the middle of preparing. We’re making good use of our friends’ housewarming gift.
“Maybe I was,” I say playfully.
This is, of course, better than telling her the truth: I was cursing myself for giving her a reason to dress up a little. Why do I find her exposed collarbone so enticing?
She ties my flowered apron around her waist, and that doesn’t help. There’s something endearingly incongruous about her outfit.
My older brother and his girlfriend are coming for an early Saturday dinner, and we’re doing burgers on the barbecue. And by “we,” I mean Jane, who’s more excited about grilling than me, though I was the one who procured the barbecue. I bought it secondhand from someone down the street. They’d gotten a fancy new barbecue and didn’t need this one anymore. It cost me fifty bucks. I have no expectation that it’ll last for a long time, but I hope we can get a year or two out of it.
The doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it.” I wash my hands, exit the kitchen, and open the front door. “Welcome to our air-conditioned house!”
Kim smiles and gives me a quick hug. “Hey, Evan.”
She and Max have been together about year, which is the same amount of time that Jane and I have supposedly been together. They met at their friends’ wedding, then proceeded to see each other at a bunch of other weddings that summer.
“How was the drive?” I ask.
“Not bad,” my brother says. He’s standing behind Kim and has a bakery box in his hand. He looks a little stern, but there’s nothing unusual about that.
Kim tugs him inside, and my gaze is riveted on that point of contact. Though Jane might touch my hand, I know for them, it’s a sign of something more. I can’t help feeling envious of Max. Before, it was a general feeling of envy—he had a serious romantic relationship and I didn’t—but now, I have a particular person in mind.
Jane Yin.
And the preposterous thing is that we’re already married.
I clear my throat. “What did you bring for dessert?” I ask as Max hands me the box.
“A very sophisticated cake,” Kim replies.
“It’s an affront to human decency,” Max says.
She gives him a playful shove before putting on a pair of slippers from the collection by the door.
“You’ve piqued my curiosity.” I lead the way to the kitchen, where I set the box next to the cheese board on the table. “Should I take a look now?”
“Absolutely not,” my brother says. “I’m embarrassed to be in the same room as it.” But a smile tugs at his lips.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Jane asks. “Beer, wine, juice, tea, water?” She puts aside the salad bowl and walks over to our guests.
“I’ll have a glass of wine if you’ve got a bottle open, but no need to open one on my account,” Kim says.
“Don’t worry, I want some, too.” Jane takes out a bottle of red and pours small glasses for her, Max, and Kim. “Help yourself to the cheese.”
Kim immediately reaches for a piece of gouda, her eagerness eliciting chuckles. Once she and Max have had something to eat, I offer them a tour while Jane gets started on the barbecue.
I begin with the kitchen. “As you can see, we have a selection of thirty-year-old appliances.”
“Probably for the best,” Max says. “The new ones don’t last.”
I move to the living room. “This is our mass cane plant, which has been with us for eight days. And Watson, who will probably be too shy to say hello.”
“I love your couch,” Kim says.
“That was Jane’s.” I nod at my wife as she heads out back with the raw burgers. “She had it in her apartment.” Mine, which isn’t as nice, is currently in the basement.
I proceed through the rest of the downstairs, trying to see how the house would look to someone who doesn’t live here. We’re still missing a dining room table, and the décor is a bit sparse. I’m not sure it truly looks homey yet, but it’s starting to feel that way to me.
Though that’s partly due to the woman who just cursed on our back patio.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “I dropped a bun on the grass, that’s all.”
I continue the tour, Kim asking more questions than Max. I don’t offer to show them the second floor, and fortunately, neither of them asks. I’m not sure what my brother would think of the separate bedrooms.
When we return to the kitchen, I move the cheese board to the counter and set out plates. A moment later, Jane enters with platters of beef patties and toasted buns. Some of her hair has escaped her ponytail. She sets everything down, then removes her apron. Even though she’s barely showing more skin than before, seeing her take off an article of clothing—even with family here—makes my blood pump faster.
I try to ignore that feeling. “Help yourself. I’ll bring the salad over in a minute.”
I go to the counter and toss the green salad with the vinaigrette. I’m about to reach for the salad tongs when I feel a warm hand on my lower back, and I’m so shocked, I jump back, knocking against Jane.
“Sorry! You surprised me,” I say, even though we touch each other like that regularly.
The problem? I’d just been thinking about her taking off clothes, which is highly inappropriate, and when she touched me, it felt like something more than our usual physical contact.
As I steady my breathing and set the salad tongs in the bowl, I note that Max’s eyes have narrowed suspiciously, as if asking, Why does a touch from your wife shock you so much?
I ignore him and take the salad to the table. “Bon appétit.”
“I think it’s finally time to see what’s in this box.” I bring over plates and clean utensils for dessert.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Max mutters.
I remove the tape and open up the box to reveal…a giant burger. Except it doesn’t contain any meat or meat substitute. No, it’s a burger cake. Not a super realistic one that you might actually mistake for a hamburger, but it’s clearly supposed to be a burger.
“This looks amazing,” I say, in part to annoy my brother.
“The middle cake is chocolate,” Kim says. “The cakes that form the bun are vanilla. The condiments are made of different colors of buttercream.”
“Uh, wow. Yes.” Jane seems a little perturbed that this is sitting in our kitchen.
“You see?” Max turns to me. “Jane agrees that it’s an abomination.”
She looks at Kim. “I really do apprec—”
Kim waves this off. “It’s fine. We’re family now. You’re allowed to disapprove of the cake I chose. I do think it’ll taste good, even if the aesthetics aren’t to your preference.”
Jane opens her mouth, but no words come out. I suspect it’s because she’s processing Kim’s casual mention of “family,” and I figure a distraction is in order, in case she needs a few moments to compose herself.
“I think Watson would like to try the cake,” I say.
Max merely raises an eyebrow, but at least he’s not looking at Jane. Though he might think I’m joking, I really mean it. After all, Watson was unable to partake in our earlier burgers and is feeling left out.
The cake sits on a piece of cardboard inside the box. Carefully, I pick it up, set it on a large plate, and walk over to where Watson is standing beneath the mass cane plant. He has difficulty holding a fork, so I set the fork on the plate and take a picture as Kim laughs.
When I return the cake to the table, Jane is ready to cut it with a knife.
“Would you like a piece, Max?” she asks.
“A cake should look like a cake, not whatever this is. But I suppose I have to try it.”
Ha. Unlike Leo, Max would never turn down cake, but he sounds incredibly put out by this state of affairs.
Jane serves us each a slice, and I try a forkful with both bun and meat.
“It’s delicious,” I tell Kim, and that’s not a lie—it’s a pretty decent cake, even if it’s not as good as our wedding cake. “Thank you for bringing it.”
She nods before turning to Jane. “So, how’s living in the suburbs and having a mother- and father-in-law?”
“I rarely leave the house anyway,” Jane says, “and to be honest…” She pauses. I’m not sure what she wants to share, and I’m ready to jump in at any moment, but she soon continues, her voice steady. “I wanted to have more family. My mom is dead, and my dad lives out west and didn’t bother to come to the wedding, as you probably noticed. So, I thought I…”
I squeeze her hand under the table.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Kim says. “I admit that being part of another person’s family was the part I dreaded most about a long-term relationship”—she glances at Max—“but of course, not everyone is like me.”
“Your parents are nice,” Jane says to Max. “They don’t intrude on our lives too much.”
“Other than the honeymoon thing,” Kim says.
“Yeah. Other than that.” My wife manages a wry chuckle. “Maybe they’re trying to give us lots of time alone to make grandchildren.”
Max and I simultaneously choke on our cake. I didn’t expect to hear Jane say that in company, and it doesn’t help that she looks so lovely in her black shirt, her lips twitching as she calmly brings another bite of cake to her mouth. When I continue to hack away, she puts a hand on my back—and this time, I don’t startle.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just…peachy,” I say, but the thought of the baby-making process with Jane has gotten too appealing. Plus, the thought of any sexual activity that might not lead to a baby. Like…
I will myself to picture something else. Anything else. Deciding I should go big, I think of whales, but that makes me think of sperm whales. Though I have no idea what they look like, that word isn’t helping.
I shove another bite of cake in my mouth and manage not to choke—barely. Perhaps my brother is right. This cake is cursed.
He gives me an odd look, and I try to smile.
I wonder what he thinks of my marriage now.
“The burgers turned out well,” Jane says as we clean up afterward.
“They did.” I lower the remnants of the burger cake into a container. When I get some yellow buttercream on my finger, my first instinct is to ask her to lick it off, but I shove down that temptation and lick my own finger.
“Was I…okay?” she asks, uncertainty in her voice.
I glance up. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve never spent time with just Max and Kim before. I don’t want to ask if they liked me—it sounds childish—but maybe I shouldn’t have made that crack about grandchildren?”
“No, no, that was fine.”
“Once or twice, I’ve gotten the feeling that Max is still suspicious of me. Does he think I’m not good enough for you?”
I hate hearing her say that.
I close the distance between us. “He definitely doesn’t, but he isn’t sure what to make of our relationship because everything happened so fast.”
She sighs and scrubs a hand over her face. “I don’t want to cause any problems between you and your brothers.”
“You’re not causing problems. Things will return to normal soon.” Though me jumping back when Jane touched me may not have helped.
“You can tell him the truth, if he can keep a secret.”
“He can. But I won’t.” A part of me wants to tell my older brother, but I feel like he wouldn’t understand, and he’d be concerned that I gave up on love.
But as I look at Jane now, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth…
I did expect our relationship to change a little once we got married and started spending more time together. A deepening of our friendship, so to speak.
Except my feelings aren’t platonic now. No, some part of me aches for a romance—with her. There’s a sexual component to it, sure, but it’s not simply lust.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, a notch of concern appearing between her eyebrows.
She’s gotten better at reading me over the past month. Or I’ve gotten worse at pasting on a smile and pretending everything’s okay around her.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “I’m good.”
After all, I’m married to an amazing woman, aren’t I?