Sweets

The day had been long, dragging, draining. A constant parade of demands and distractions; death by a million paper cuts. The strain coiled in her shoulders and neck, angry and pulsing, sending jolts of pain into her temples. She stopped at the front door, took a deep breath, and braced herself for the next round. Behind her closed eyelids she could picture the scene inside. Toys strewn across every surface, empty applesauce packets, orange peels, and dirty socks stuffed inexplicably into random nooks and crannies. The children would be upon her in a clamoring cacophany of sweet, grimy faces and a million sticky fingers. She steeled herself, plastered on her best mommy smile, and opened the door.

And there he was, a Swiffer Wet-Jet in one hand and a tray of brownies in the other. His gray T-shirt was grimy with streaks of peanut butter and unmentionable child effluvia, but it stretched nicely across his firm, broad chest. The lemon-fresh smell of newly-mopped floors wafted towards her, with an undertone of homemade lasagna. She peeked behind him to see that the living room was pristine; not a toy in sight, every surface gleaming. The house was quiet and still, wrapped in a peaceful glow of cleanliness.

“I put the kids to bed early. Come have some lasagne and wine.”

His words curled her toes and set her spine tingling. He steered her towards the dining room table, set with two matching plates and brim-full wine glasses

“And brownies?” She breathed, wide-eyed with ecstasy.

“Dinner first, then sweets. Sit.”

A mischievous grin lit his bearded face as he set the brownie tray down on the table. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her effortlessly and kissed her with bone-melting sweetness.

“Oh yes,” she murmured through a giggle as they surfaced for air, “we’ll definitely have sweets tonight.”