Remember Me

17. Soulmates

I wake up to an empty bed for the umpteenth morning in a row. I'd take it personally if it weren't for the curses that I can hear from the kitchen; my wife trying yet again to perfect the cheesy potato recipe. When she'd sat a helping down in front of me a few days ago, asking if it was as good as I remembered, I'd lied and told her that it was but of course, she saw right through me. Since then, she's been hellbent on recalling what she used to do to the recipe that made it so lovable.

Dragging myself out of bed and opting for a pair of gray sweatpants, I head out of the bedroom, down the hall to our kitchen. I lean against the wall, watching her from afar as she threads her fingers through her blonde locks in frustration; laughing only slightly when I catch her ring getting caught in a stubborn snarl.

"This is helpless" she mutters, turning the pages of the book in front of her with her free hand while the other pulls violently at her hair to loosen it around her ring. "Dammit" she groans, slamming the book shut and using both hands now. I settle my features and meander into the room.

"Here, let me help." Stepping towards her, I shoo her hands away from the knot atop her head and carefully unwind the strands from her engagement ring. She turns her head upwards, eyeing me thankfully.

"How long were you standing there?" She asks, probably embarrassed though she has no reason to be. Even annoyed and frustrated with her hand stuck in her hair, she was still the sexiest woman I've ever laid eyes on.

"Long enough" I reply, resting my hand on the countertop beside hers. "You know, the potatoes don't have to be perfect. We weren't even supposed to be going tonight so technically, they're not a real part of the menu."

"But they're your favorite. Which make them important to me" she protests, taking a step back from me and beginning to rifle through the drawers. I furrow my eyebrows as I watch her, leaning my weight back against the counter.

"What are you doing?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest as she bends over giving me a fine glimpse at her ass. She was wearing a fucking negligee, sheer and short enough that it just barely covers her ass when she stands upright. Luckily, she has lingerie on underneath, but it's lace so-. "Jesus Maya." I mutter, purposefully looking away and pulling at my sweats.

"Hmm?" She hums, so oblivious to the direct affect she has to my bodily functions that I'd find it downright adorable if I weren't so turned on. Turning around, she seems to gather my predicament because her cheeks turn bright red. "Oh." Giggling, she continues to rifle through drawer after drawer.

I groan, throwing my head back. "Oh? Maya, c'mon." Moving to grab her around the waist, I turn her around and pin her back against the counter. "It's been days."

"You've been on timeout" she retorts, "remember, for using my brain injury to get out of a family gathering?"

"Yea, I remember. And I think I've learned my lesson and even if you haven't fully forgiven me yet, I have some ideas that will certainly get you in a forgiving mood."

"Joshua Gabriel Matthews" she scolds, looping her arms around my neck. "We have to be at your parents' house in like, three hours. And I still haven't perfected this recipe, or taken a shower, or gotten dressed-." I cut her insistences off with a kiss, angling her head back and earning the softest of moans as I pry her lips apart with my tongue. Her hands around my neck increasing their grip as I grab the hem of her negligee and slowly move my hand towards her panties-.

Suddenly, the smell of smoke penetrates my nostrils and I pull away from my wife with concerned eyes. "Is something burning?"

Her eyes widen. "The potatoes." Shoving past me, she yanks open the oven and waves away the smoke that permeates the air, choking on the taste as she quickly shields her eyes. "Well, this definitely wasn't the batch." I move around her and take the dish from the oven, charred to a crisp and unsalvageable.