Page 55 of Emil

“We don’t have to do this,” I said as soon as he pointed me to the sofa. It was too comfortable, and the worn chenille covering invited snuggling.

Emil must have thought so too because he planted himself next to me, threw an arm over my shoulder, and hauled me close.

“This is how we’re talking?”

“Yes, unless you tell me to move away. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No.”

“Then I’m staying right here,” Emil said, giving my shoulders a small squeeze. His fingers found their way to my topknot, and within seconds, the tie was pulled free, letting my hair loose. “Finally. I’ve been thinking about this hair since the first day I met you.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope. You were at your desk, and I wanted to know how long it was, how soft it was, if it was straight or curly when it was down. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of a way to find out without sounding like a creeper.”

“Yeah, I would’ve thought it was strange.”

“And creepy?” Emil asked with a chuckle.

Lying with my head on his shoulder while he played with my hair, I felt the tension across my shoulders ease.

“Yeah, creepy too, but now you know.”

“Now I know.”

We lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t tense or worried.

“Thank you for letting me handle the kitchen tonight.”

“You’re welcome. Can you explain why? It was definitely more than how I stacked the dishes.”

“You’re the best stacker of dishes I’ve ever seen,” I said solemnly.

“Except for you?”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “It’s not about the dishes. It’s about the care… No, that’s not the right word. It’s the service. It’s that the service is caretaking.”

Emil stayed quiet and let me think aloud.

“I feel more settled when I’m doing it, and it’s part of who I am. Maybe I missed my calling and should’ve been a butler?”

“And when I do it for you?”

“It feels like you’re saying I’m not good enough.”

“You are damn sure good enough.”

“But when you do it for me, it doesn’t feel that way.” I took a few more deep breaths. “And if it were up to me, I’d do more.”

“More than breakfast, lunch, and dinner every night? Polishing my shoes? Tidying up? That’s a lot.”

“You bring home dinner pretty often. Lunch is super simple. Breakfast is practically coffee and fruit. Polishing your shoes takes ten minutes, tops. You never make a mess, so tidying up takes less time than the polishing.”

“Do you need this to be happy?”

“I do. I really, really do.”

Emil kissed my forehead and kept me close while he thought about what I’d said. Thankfully, he didn’t argue or tell me I was wrong for wanting this. While I waited for him to think, I imagined the care I could be doing. Setting out clothes. Prepping his bed. Bringing coffee to him. Even the thought of the tasks relaxed me. Please, please, please let him say yes.