My husband, Nathan Leach, held up the cake he was carrying, raising it right in front of his face so that it was the first thing I saw instead of him. “Look! I made you a strawberry cake. I made it from scratch with my own hands,” he said cheerfully, his face beaming with excitement.
I smiled sweetly at him and nodded.
“I knew you’d open the door,” Nathan said warmly, his eyes filled with affection as they met mine. “It must be tiring, waiting for me to come home every day and opening the door. Why don’t you let the maid handle it? I don’t want you wearing yourself out, Honey.” His voice was gentle as he shrugged off his jacket, a small smile playing on his lips.
I instinctively reached out to take it from him, but he stopped me with a soft touch on my hand.
“You don’t have to do this, Love,” he said, shaking his head slightly.
I paused for a moment, then raised my hands to sign, “I don’t mind doing things for the man I love.”
He chuckled, a low, affectionate sound that filled the quiet entryway. “I’m so lucky to have a woman like you as my wife,” he said, leaning in to place a tender kiss on the corner of my lips.