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“We should do that more often,” I mumble with a smile as he steers the car calmly through London’s late night traffic, his hand resting loosely on the gear knob. “Yes, we should,” he agrees, glancing at me shortly before focusing on the road again. “We should spend more time together anyway, darling. The two of us, I mean.”
It’s been so long since our last proper date and I for sure do not want to wait another two months until I have him for myself for an evening. He stops the car at the red traffic lights and looks at me. “I know. I’m sorry that I’ve neglected you recently but...there’s just so much to do with the new production coming up and everything. I just want to be involved in it all as it’s my name which is at stake. Well, mine and Tom’s, together,” Benedict apologises, his hand gliding to my thigh which he strokes gently. “Yes, I know that,” I sigh, resting my smaller hand on his ere I let my fingertip glide over the metal of his wedding ring. “But I miss you,” I add, looking up at him. “I miss falling asleep next to you and waking up with your face as the first thing that I see. I miss snuggling on the sofa with you, watching silly films and drinking too much wine. I just miss us as a couple.” I can feel tears well up in my eyes before I look away. I know of his commitment to work and, now that he’s got his and Tom’s production company going, he is even more determined to make things perfect, which I can totally understand. But I miss my husband nonetheless.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, gently squeezing my hand before setting the car back into motion. It doesn’t take long until we’re home, the grand white Hampstead Mansion rising into the dark night in front of us. The lights are out except for the one above the entrance door, guiding us home. I quickly wipe a lonely tear away from my cheek as he makes his way around the car to open the door for me. It’s little gestures like this which make me fall in love with him over and over again, which help me remember how lucky I am.
“Thank you,” I breathe while my hand rests in his as I get out, the gravel scrunching underneath my heels. Closing the door with a quiet thud, he pulls me gently into an embrace, his lips touching my forehead ever so lovingly, and for a moment I close my eyes. “I love you. And I promise that I’ll have more time for you from now on. I’ll talk to Tom tomorrow so that we can alternate the days we’re in or maybe find another solution. And then the two of us will chose an evening in the week that belongs to us and us only. We’ve got a fantastic babysitter so we don’t have to worry about Noah that night and then it’s just you and me and we’ll do whatever you feel like,” he whispers against my skin, his hands resting on my back as he holds me close and safe.
Slowly, I open my eyes and lock up into his blue, shimmering orbs, smiling. “Thank you, Benedict. And I love you, too, of course. Besides, I’m so proud of you. You’re working so hard and I know that everything’s going to be brilliant,” I whisper, my hands buried between his shirt and jacket, relishing the warmth emanating from his still toned body. “With you as my lucky charm nothing can go wrong,” he winks, kissing me softly before we walk up towards the house to release our lovely babysitter Mary from her duties.
***
“So, what would you like to do once we’ve agreed on an evening for us?,” he smiles, loosening his tie and dropping it onto the wooden chest at the foot of our bed. Placing my earrings on top of my dressing table, I turn towards him with a smile myself. “Hm, I still like the ‘drinking too much wine and watching silly movies’ idea,” I wink, covering the few metres between us. “And then we’ll see what else happens,” I breathe as I stand right in front of him, my hands resting on the lapel of his suit jacket. Raising his eyebrows, he allows his hands to come to rest on my waist, his fingertips just about grazing my naked back, revealed by the cut-out design of my gown.
“Do you have something particular in mind?,” he asks with a mischievous grin and I shake my head, trying to look as innocently as possible. “No, not really,” I smirk, biting my lip as his hand glides up my side until he buries it in my hair, his palm resting on my cheek. “What a shame,” Benedict whispers, just about to lean in to me for a kiss as the padding of little feet on the hallway floor holds him back. Dropping my gaze, I sigh quietly though with a smile at our son’s rather imperfect timing.
“Daddy? I had a bad dream,” Noah mumbles shyly, standing in the doorway of our bedroom, his favourite cuddly toy squashed in his arms. Pressing a soft kiss onto my other cheek, Benedict lets go of me and walks the few metres towards our son, picking him up lovingly. “What was that bad dream about, my darling, huh? Was it the big, green monster again?,” he asks, holding Noah as if he is the most precious human being on earth, but then again, he is exactly that to us. The four-year-old nods gravely, burying his face in the crook of his father’s neck. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart,” my husband whispers, rocking him gently, his hand stroking up and down our little one’s back.
Silently, I walk towards them and press a kiss onto my son’s cheek. “Why don’t you two go and start reading a story and I’ll get some hot milk to chase the horrible memories of this dream away, hm?,” I suggest and Noah nods against his father’s skin. “Alright, let’s go, big boy,” Benedict smiles, breathing another kiss onto my forehead before he walks down the corridor to the boy’s bedroom where they choose a story to read.
As I join them a few minutes later with three little mugs of warm milk and honey, they are cuddled up in bed, Noah’s Winnie the Pooh bedside lamp illuminating the bedroom as they are both looking intently at the book in Benedict’s hands. As quietly as possible, I place the mugs on the bedside table before I join them under the blanket, listening to Ben’s deep, calm voice telling the story of “Little Red Hen” while Noah mumbles along, trying to remember the exact words his father uses. Proudly, I watch my two ‘boys’, Noah a spitting image of his father, while my hand rests protectively on my stomach, unseen by Benedict who is engrossed in the story and the intimate moment with his pride and joy.
***
“Goodnight my lovely,” I whisper, breathing a kiss onto my son’s forehead as the story is finished and the mugs empty before Benedict does the same. “Night Mummy, night Daddy,” he mumbles, interrupted by a yawn, pulling him deeper into slumber. Quietly, we leave his bedroom, now filled with the sound of Noah’s regular breathing, and tiptoe back to our own chambers.
“Honey?,” I start as my husband makes his way to our ensuite bathroom and he turns around with a smile on his face. “Yes, darling?” Taking a deep breath while fidgeting with my wedding ring, I look at him a little shyly, unsure of how to say what I have to say. “Is something wrong?,” he asks, concern etched on his face and I quickly shake my head. “No, no. Nothing’s wrong, it’s just...um,” I stutter, suddenly finding the pale, beige carpet below my feet much more interesting than my husband’s gentle eyes. “Hey, what is it?,” he breathes, walking back towards me, his hand resting on my cheek again, causing me to look up. “I’m pregnant, Benedict,” I whisper, tears of joy but also of anxiety gliding down my cheek, as I remember these dark moments after Noah’s birth all too well.
“Oh wow,...I wasn’t expecting that!”