“How was work?” Ben asks when I get home. He’s stationed on the couch, ostensibly playing video games, but I know he’s really waiting for me.
Ever since his decree last week about staying home, he’s coincidentally been in the living room whenever I get back from my shift, or from being out.
He must have had to switch his work hours around to do this, which shows his commitment.
“Fine,” I say, going into the kitchen.
“Want anything hot to drink? I’m gonna make myself a cup of tea,” I holler over my shoulder as I fill up the kettle.
“I’ll do that for you,” he says, rushing into the kitchen and taking the kettle right out of my hands.
This is another one of his new habits: he now tries to wait on me, hand and foot.
I think he’d follow me around all day if he could. I feel like I’m
