Chapter 7 His Forbidden Wife #2
He entered the kitchen.
Evan wasn't there.
Nathaniel checked the living room.
Empty.
The study.
Empty.
He finally found him upstairs, asleep on the sofa in the small sitting room near his bedroom.
Nathaniel stopped in the doorway.
Evan had fallen asleep with a book resting against his chest.
His sweater had ridden slightly upward, revealing the gentle curve of his stomach.
Nathaniel smiled.
He walked over and carefully removed the book.
Evan stirred.
"You're home."
"Yes."
"What time is it?"
"Almost ten."
Evan blinked sleepily.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"You've been tired."
"I know."
Nathaniel placed the book on the table.
"Did you eat?"
Evan groaned.
"You're going to ask me that every day, aren't you?"
"Probably."
"I ate."
"Good."
Evan pushed himself upright.
Nathaniel noticed how slowly he moved.
"Careful."
"I'm fine."
"I know."
Nathaniel offered his hand anyway.
Evan accepted it.
Nathaniel helped him stand.
Their hands remained joined for an extra second.
Neither spoke.
Then Evan released him.
"I'm going to bed."
"Good night."
"Good night."
Evan walked away.
Nathaniel watched him disappear down the hallway.
He stood alone in the sitting room.
Then the thought came again.
My wife.
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
He didn't know why the phrase had lodged so deeply inside him.
Perhaps because it represented something he hadn't admitted to himself.
Evan had become the person he looked for first.
The person whose comfort mattered to him.
The person whose absence changed the atmosphere of the house.
The person he wanted beside him at breakfast and across from him at dinner.
The person he wanted to tell things to.
The person he wanted to protect without controlling.
The person he wanted to come home to.
Nathaniel sat down.
He realized that if someone asked him what Evan was to him, he would struggle to answer.
Boyfriend sounded too small.
Partner sounded too formal.
The father of his child described only one part of their connection.
Richard's son was accurate but emotionally meaningless.
Evan was more than any of those descriptions.
He was becoming home.
The realization frightened Nathaniel more than the pregnancy had.
A child changed the future.
Love changed everything.
He had spent years building walls around his emotions.
Evan had walked into his life and somehow made those walls feel unnecessary.
The next morning, Nathaniel woke earlier than usual.
He went downstairs and started breakfast.
Evan eventually appeared wearing a loose sweater and carrying his phone.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Evan sat at the counter.
Nathaniel placed a plate in front of him.
"Eat."
Evan looked at it.
"You really are becoming obsessed with feeding me."
"You need to eat."
"You sound like a husband."
Nathaniel froze.
Evan smiled.
"Relax. I'm joking."
Nathaniel looked away.
"Very funny."
Evan laughed.
The word remained between them even after the conversation moved on.
Husband.
Nathaniel wondered whether Evan had noticed the irony.
They had started with a joke about wife.
Now Nathaniel was standing in the kitchen thinking about husband.
He didn't like how natural the thought felt.
Later that afternoon, Nathaniel was in his office when he heard Evan downstairs.
He left his desk and walked toward the kitchen.
Evan was standing at the counter, sorting groceries.
Nathaniel watched him for a moment.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
"You've been working all day."
"I know."
"Then sit down."
Evan glanced at him.
"You really do like giving instructions."
"I make suggestions."
"They sound like instructions."
Nathaniel smiled.
Evan continued organizing the groceries.
Nathaniel moved beside him.
"That belongs in the pantry."
"I know."
"You put it in the refrigerator last time."
"Because I wasn't thinking."
"You never admit mistakes."
Evan looked at him.
"I just did."
Nathaniel laughed.
The moment was so ordinary that it caught him off guard.
There they were.
Arguing about groceries.
Living together.
Preparing for a child.
Acting like they had been doing this for years.
Nathaniel reached for a bag.
"Give me that."
"I can carry it."
"I know you can."
Evan handed it over anyway.
Nathaniel put it away.
When he returned, Evan was smiling.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're smiling."
"I like seeing you do domestic things."
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.
"Domestic things?"
"Yes."
"Like putting groceries away?"
"Exactly."
Nathaniel shook his head.
"You're strange."
"You like me."
Nathaniel stopped.
Evan's smile faded slightly.
The words had been playful.
But Nathaniel felt the truth behind them.
"I do," he said.
Evan looked at him.
Nathaniel held his gaze.
"I like you very much."
The silence stretched.
Evan looked down.
Nathaniel could feel his own restraint weakening.
He reached for another bag.
"Come on, my wife. You're going to make me do all the work."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Silence.
Nathaniel froze.
Evan slowly looked up.
"What did you call me?"
Nathaniel felt heat rise beneath his collar.
He had no excuse.
"I said—"
"I heard what you said."
Nathaniel looked away.
Evan stepped closer.
"My wife?"
Nathaniel swallowed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
There was no accusation in Evan's voice.
Only curiosity.
Nathaniel set the grocery bag down.
"I don't know."
"That's not true."
Nathaniel looked at him.
Evan's expression was gentle but persistent.
"You've been thinking about it since Maria said it."
Nathaniel sighed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nathaniel struggled to find an answer that wouldn't sound ridiculous.
Finally, he said, "Because the word stayed with me."
Evan waited.
Nathaniel continued.
"I don't mean it literally. I know we're not married."
"I know."
"And I don't mean it as a statement about your gender."
Evan's expression softened.
"I know."
Nathaniel took a breath.
"I think it means something different to me."
"What?"
Nathaniel looked around the kitchen.
At the dishes.
The groceries.
The breakfast table.
The plant by the window.
The small signs of Evan's presence everywhere.
Then he looked back at Evan.
"You've become the center of this house."
Evan said nothing.
Nathaniel continued.
"Before you came here, this place was just somewhere I lived. It was quiet, but it wasn't really home."
Evan's eyes softened.
"Now?"
"Now I come home and look for you."
Nathaniel's voice became quieter.
"I know what tea you like. I know what food makes you feel better. I know which chair you prefer. I know when you're tired even when you say you're fine."
Evan smiled faintly.
"You've been paying attention."
"To you."
Nathaniel stepped closer.
"That's what the word means to me."
Evan looked at him.
"That I'm your wife?"
Nathaniel nodded slowly.
"Not because I think you need to be anything other than yourself. Not because you're carrying my child. Not because of some role you have to perform."
He paused.
"It means you're the person who has started making this place feel like home."
Evan's eyes became glossy.
Nathaniel continued.
"And somehow, without either of us planning it, you've become the person my life keeps making room for."
Evan looked down.
Nathaniel reached for his hand.
"That's what I mean."
Evan squeezed his fingers.
"I don't know whether I should laugh at you."
"You can."
"Or kiss you."
Nathaniel's heart stopped for half a second.
Evan smiled.
"But I'm not going to make it easy."
Nathaniel laughed softly.
"I wouldn't expect you to."
They stood together in the kitchen, hands joined.
The word remained between them.
Wife.
Nathaniel knew it wasn't a legal title.
It wasn't a social role.
It wasn't an attempt to define Evan by gender.
It was simply the word his heart had chosen for the place Evan was beginning to occupy.
A place beside him.
A place inside his home.
A place in his future.
Nathaniel looked at Evan and realized that perhaps the most dangerous thing about the word was how natural it felt.
He didn't want to take it back.
And Evan, judging by the small smile on his face, didn't seem to want him to.
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