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“What’s mine is yours,” I say naturally. “After all, you are my wife, aren’t you?”
Wife. That’s the first time I’ve called her that since we got married, and the moment doesn’t go unnoticed by either of us. The air between us sparkles with a dazzling thrill, and I see her cheeks flush.
“Well, what’s yours might be mine, but I am eating for two.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask, confused.
She smiles at me, lighting up my world. “What I’m saying is, I’ll see you tonight on the rooftop. But don’t expect me to share my food with you.”
I chuckle. Of all the things in the world, that is not how I expected her to accept my invitation. “Deal,” I say.
“Deal.”
"Great," I say, not bothering to suppress my smile. "I'll see you there at seven."
As I watch her leave my office, I feel excited for what’s to come. Tonight, I will show Robin the man behind our circumstances—the man who values and respects her far more than he ever thought possible. The man who is beginning to desire her out of more than just obligation. And perhaps, just perhaps, she might see me in a different light, too.
***
That night, Robin steps through the door at exactly seven o’clock, her dress flowing around her like a delicate breeze.
She takes my breath away.
She’s wearing a soft white chiffon dress—sleeveless, deep cut. It graces the swell of her belly. She’s got her hair half-up and half down, some slight mascara and lip gloss. The rest is all natural because her skin is glowing, flushed and vitalized.
"Robin, you look stunning," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Thank you," she replies, offering me a slight smile as she surveys the scene around us.
For a few seconds, she’s quiet. Then, she turns to me with the most enchanted look. “You did this all for me?” she asks, motioning around us.
Fairy lights twinkle above us, casting a magical ambiance around the rooftop. Soft music plays in the background, and candles grace our path to the table. Enchanting flowers lie in baskets and pots, creating a small garden of sorts. I nod, unable to tear my gaze away from her.
“I thought you needed the break,” I say, bending my head slightly.
Her eyes soften, and a hint of vulnerability shines through. "Boris, this is... incredible. Thank you."
As we sit down at the elegantly set table, I pull out her chair for her. I drink sparkling apple juice in a champagne glass in solidarity.
She sips it and bites her lip. My eyes are automatically drawn toward them, luscious and inviting. I look away, my hands trembling to pull her close.
“So,” she asks. “What’s all this for?”
“I know I haven’t been around much,” I shrug.
She looks at me point-blank like she’s holding back a lot, but eventually just nods. “You haven’t,” she shrugs.
I feel like she’s… upset? But that can’t be it. I’ve sent her gifts and set up her life to make it easier, and yet she hasn’t accepted any of those things. If it is my time she wants, she could have just asked for it, couldn’t she?
I’m probably projecting what I want her to feel because if she’s upset about the lack of time I give her, that can only mean one thing: she genuinely and truly desires my company.
That would be a dream come true.
The flickering candlelight casts shadows across Robin's face, accentuating her delicate features.
“So, what are we eating tonight?” she asks excitedly.
“Well, tonight we’re having Italian.”
