“Wow,” he said, “how many people did you invite to join us today?” The presence of only two chairs at the table made it a rhetorical question.
A glimpse of pain flashed across her face before the olive-skinned smile returned. Nary a day passed when she did not reflect on the quickly approaching thirties. To her, an inevitable proclamation of her barrenness.
He reached across the table and took her slender hand. He looked deep into her hazel eyes. “You are what I am truly thankful for—today and always.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I just want to give you a family.”
“Marilyn, no. We are a family. We’ve been a family since we said ‘I do.’ Kid’s don’t make a family.”
She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She swept a stray patch of her long black hair behind her shoulder. Her elegance and beauty seemed to grow with each year.
He was hungry. A hungry man seated at a table full of food. Truly something for which to be thankful. “Shall we eat?” He smiled and winked at her. “’Cause I’m anxious for desert.”
The food tasted as sweet and luscious as it looked. In just minutes, they polished off their fabulous meal. She spent hours preparing it.
He helped her put away the leftovers. He’d be able to taunt his fellow officers with his lunches for the next week.
Dishes done, they cuddled together in front of the fireplace and enjoyed feeding one another pumpkin pie.
To say he didn’t want children would be a lie. But, he couldn’t imagine being more content than with the life he possessed. Just him and his precious beauty.
He couldn’t live with himself if he ever hurt her.