Chapter 14 #2
Chuckling, he wiggled his fingers. “It’s just an expression. Come on.”
Her husband’s moods were shifting faster than storm winds, from angry to tender to intimate to…breakfast?
She couldn’t keep up.
Mei Lin didn’t follow her husband into the kitchen.
Instead, she slipped into the bedroom, then the attached bathroom, needing to collect herself and think.
She’d planned to ask him about the last six years, but the conversation had taken a different turn.
A few different turns, leaving her off-balance.
She didn’t understand this man she’d married and yearned for, this man who acted like he wanted to be with her, then ran away.
She met her eyes in the mirror, loathing the image looking back at her, the pale skin and sunken cheeks.
She shook out her short, flat hair, but the movement didn’t help.
She missed how it used to look. Of all the things to grieve, her hair shouldn’t be on the list. But it wasn’t about the hair.
It was about the woman who used to wear it, the one Ethan had loved. Was that woman gone forever?
Could he learn to love the person she was now?
Could she?
She returned to the tiny kitchen area, composed of a small counter with a sink and coffee pot, a cabinet with a built-in microwave, a small refrigerator, and a table with four chairs tucked around it.
Ethan smiled at her over his shoulder. “Hungry?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Have a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.” He’d dumped out the cold tea she’d made and was making more. The water in the electric kettle boiled, and he was pouring it into mugs when the microwave dinged.
She stood. “I’ll get that.”
“I can do it.”
“I can also—”
“Mei Lin, I’m trying to surprise you.” He gave her a look—chin down, eyebrows up. “Play along, okay?”
“Okay.” She sat again. “I can play.”
Ethan smiled, carrying the two mugs of steeping tea to the table. He took a plate out of the microwave and set it in the center.
She caught sight of what he’d brought.
Youxiang’er.
The fried dough steamed, the crust golden brown.
The pastries looked handmade—meaning, a little misshapen.
They smelled of hot oil and pepper and the earthy sweetness of potato, and she was suddenly transported back six years, sharing the treat in a hotel room in this same city with her handsome American husband, who’d insisted on ordering one of everything on the menu.
Ethan was as handsome now... No, he was more handsome. Back then, he’d been long and lanky, but he’d filled out. His face no longer held the remnants of a teenager. His jaw was sharper, his eyes wiser. The years had been good to him. Maybe more than just the time… Had there been someone else?
“Where’d you go?” He was studying her.
“Where did you find these?”
“A cart a couple of streets over.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “I thought you might appreciate them. I’m sure they were better last night, but—”
“They’re perfect.” She made an effort to look normal, but her smile wobbled. She pressed her napkin to her mouth to hide her emotions.
He settled into the chair beside her. “I wasn’t sure if these were something you ate all the time, so maybe they’re not special to you. But they were special to me, so…”
“I haven’t eaten them since we shared them.” It had been their first morning together as a married couple, after their first night together, which had been…magical. Even the memory of it burned her cheeks.
He set one pastry on a small plate and slid it toward her, then took the other for himself and bit into it. He moaned. “It’s like a donut filled with mashed potatoes. The world’s most perfect food.”
She tasted a corner of hers. The fried pastry was salty and warm. Six years of thin rice porridge and gray cabbage rolled away as she closed her eyes and savored the treat.
“It’s not as fancy as the last time,” Ethan said. “And we don’t have flowers.”
She opened her eyes to find him watching her. “I don’t need flowers.”
“No?”
“Flowers are nice, but I only need you.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Whatever he saw, his eyes went a little glassy before he made himself focus on breakfast. He ate another bite, and she did the same.
Gathering her courage.
After her third bite, she set the food down. “Why didn’t you sleep with me?”
His attention snapped to her face, his eyes wide as if she’d just accused him of a crime. The look only confirmed what she’d started to suspect.
“It was your plan, the two bedrooms, right?”
“That’s not…” He set down what was left of his pastry.
“Am I wrong?”
He licked his lips, seeming to consider his answer carefully. “You’re not wrong.”
“Perhaps you wished for separate bedrooms all along. Perhaps you were not happy to sleep with me the other nights, either. You don’t want to be with me.”
He huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “That’s not it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s…painful to sleep with you.”
“I see.” She felt the words like a slap. “I am that ugly.”
“No. Don’t be… That came out wrong.”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “I hope so.”
He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling as if a reasonable excuse for his behavior might be written there. When he looked at her again, he was almost smiling. “It is hard to sleep beside you and not touch you. It’s hard to be with you without…being with you.”
“Oh.” That was not what she’d expected him to say, and heat climbed up her throat and into her face. She had forgotten the way her husband’s eyes could turn so dark when he was thinking about kissing her and…other things. “Who told you not to touch me?”
“Nobody, of course, but when I first saw you, you looked like…like…”
She hiked her eyebrows, daring him to finish the sentence.
“You’re beautiful, always, but you were certainly in no condition for physical intimacy.
You could hardly keep your eyes open. And I just thought I should wait until you were healthy.
And I didn’t know if you wanted to, or… I don’t know.
I didn’t want to push you for something you weren’t ready for.
We’re practically strangers, except, you know, married, and there’s no handbook.
I keep thinking I need a handbook. Why are you smiling? ”