Ethan doesn't want to push anyone, especially his wife Angie, to do anything they don't want to do. So when 93 days have passed since their first daughter's birth, and he and his wife Angie still haven't had sex, he's fine with it. Really.
But when Angie drops hints that she's more than ready -- and Ethan still ignores them -- they both must confront what is actually going on if they want to be parents as well as lovers all over again. Can they survive the transition? When they do meet again, alone and with a night free from the baby, will it be the same? Moreover, do they want it to be?
"Hey."
"Hi!"
Angie's bright brown eyes widened when she saw him. She'd been in the middle of lighting a scented candle on their kitchen table. She wore a version of the same thing she'd lived in for the past three months: yoga pants that clung to her ass, plus a nursing tank top with straps that could snap away at the fastest moment. It shouldn't have been as hot as it was.
But it was.
Angie's long black hair was tied behind her in a loose ponytail. She wore no make-up, only a fresh scent of a shower and her fruity lotion. She looked at the clock and then back to him. "You're on time. Maybe even early."
"I am."
"You want some dinner?" Angie gestured to the oven. "My mother came by to take Amy for the night. She grabbed some of the freezer milk, and I'll still have to pump, but she also gave us dinner. Isn't that nice? Said it would be good for us to be alone."
Ethan wanted to bless his mother-in-law, a true first for him, but he said nothing. Jesus, even Sheila knew we need to fuck. Bobby and Sheila both. Their next door neighbor, the one who brought over a stroller to borrow and a pot roast the first week Amy was in the hospital, probably saw the tension too, the space between their bodies that had become a live wire and a safety gate at the same time. Ethan said the right things -- oh, that sounds good, I'm glad -- but he only stared at Angie's breasts as she spoke.
"Do you have to pump now?" he asked.
"No. I can wait."
"Okay. Good."
Angie leaned back against the kitchen table, her palms on it. She smiled crookedly, playfully. Ethan had already discarded his jacket, his heavy work boots, but still wore a large hoodie with the construction company logo on it.
He took it off, tossed it on the couch close by.
He stared at Angie. She stared at him.
Then they both looked away, shy.
"I think I may need to be drunk," she said. "Like the first time."
"With me?" Ethan thought back to the New Year’s where they'd met. They'd been drinking, sure, but he didn't think alcohol from that shitty party could last until two in the morning when they finally found one another in the backseat of a car. Or maybe she was thinking about sex-sex, not just a blowjob and fumbling fingers in a backseat. "I thought you were more high, then."
"Or that. Maybe that's better." She chuckled. "A brownie here and there might be good for all sorts of reasons."
"I can get you one."
Weed was legal in their city now. He'd seen a half-dozen dispensaries on his way home. He kicked himself for not thinking about it. They could split a treat, put on an album, and slowly move towards one another. He went to turn around, grab his keys, but Angie came up from behind him.
"No. Stay. You're home early and I feel like I never see you anymore."
"Only in bed," Ethan said.
"Only in bed," she echoed. She ran her hands over his shoulders, touching the recently-cut hair on the nape of his neck, the blond patches that were now mixed with grey. He became very aware that the site was dirty and dusty, and a little muddy since spring had recently arrived. He probably smelled awful. He needed a shower. He needed condoms -- wait, did they need condoms? was she on birth control or did that interfere with nursing? -- and he needed the balls to do this again. To just go for it. His mind was a live wire, cooking up a half dozen different scenarios and with so many interesting positions, but they were all moot if he couldn't do it.
"Kiss me. Please?"
