The dinner goes better than I expected.
Penn is quiet, but he’s here. He listens when people talk to him. He answers when my boss asks him about a surgery, but he doesn’t let the conversation take over the whole table. He smiles when he can even though I can tell the day has really worn him out.
I know he’s thinking about the patient he lost today, but he’s here and he’s trying. And that means a lot to me.
Under the table, my hand stays on his thigh, trying to offer him some comfort. Almost the whole time, he’s kept his hand on mine, like he needs to hold on to me.
His phone buzzes once during dinner, and I tense before I can stop myself.
He pulls it out and checks the screen, and I hold my breath until he sets it facedown on the table.
“It’s not urgent,” he says quietly, just for me.
I nod.
A few minutes later, it buzzes again.
This time, he checks it, types a quick response, and sets it down. Then his hand goes back to my hand on his thigh.
I don’t say anything, but my hand squeezes his leg, and when his eyes meet mine, I know he understands.
By the time we leave, he looks exhausted.
We say goodbye to everyone, and Penn keeps his hand on my lower back as we walk out of the restaurant. He opens the passenger door of the car and waits for me to slide in. He even reaches in and pulls the seatbelt around me.
I don’t stop him, but I do say, “I can do that, you know.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead. “I know you can, but I want to.”
I watch as he walks around the car. My husband is handsome in everything he wears, but there’s something about a dress shirt stretched across his broad chest that steals my breath. My body tingles just looking at him.
The ride home is quiet.
Penn keeps one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console. I reach over and slide my fingers through his, and he holds on immediately.
I look at his profile in the dark car. He’s tense and exhausted, but he still showed up for me tonight. Even after losing a patient.
This doesn’t fix everything, but it shows me he’s trying. Maybe I can make him understand that all I need is him. The rest we can work out.
When we get inside the house, I set my purse on the entry table and turn to face him.
He locks the door, then stands there for a second like he doesn’t know what to do next.
So I step closer. “What do you need?”
He looks at me like the question catches him completely off guard. “What?”
I put my hands on his chest. “You lost someone today. You still showed up for me. Not once did you make me feel like you didn’t want to be there.”
He blows out a breath. “I did want to be there. I always want to be with you, Aria.”
“I know.” My voice softens. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
He doesn’t answer.
His shoulders lift in a small shrug, but it doesn’t fool me.
I slide my hands higher on his chest and look up at him. “Look at me, Penn, and tell me what you need.”
