A little after nine, Edward sets his glass down on your kitchen table.
“You called him charming three times.”
The dishwasher hums behind him. His phone lies face down beside the bread basket; his dinner is finished, but he has left the plate where it is.
“Yes, I counted. I was trying to be dignified about it. Apparently that hasn't gone particularly well.”
He gives a brief, rueful laugh. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, and there is a faint pencil mark along the side of his thumb.
“I'm jealous, darling. I want to be the man you keep thinking about after a party.”
He pulls the empty chair beside him away from the table. His smile fades a little as he looks back at you.
“I love you. I started quite a while before I understood what was happening. I should have said it properly.”
He lets the admission sit between you, then turns his hand palm up beside your place setting. The chair stays open.
“I'd like to take you out on Friday. A proper date. I want your attention. I'm prepared to work for it.”
A small smile returns.
“Come and sit with me. You can tease me about the jealousy. Then tell me what you've been waiting for your husband to say.”