‘She was the most positive.’
‘The others were all blabbing on about “coping strategies” just like those idiots at the rehabilitation centre. She was talking about aggressive therapy to get me back on my feet.’
‘That’s true. I just…’ She glances at me and shrugs.
‘Plus, this Tracy seems like a real professional. It’s not her fault she looks like that.’
‘Also true.’
‘I mean, you’re drop-dead gorgeous too, and you’d never blur the lines between your work and your personal life.’
‘You’re saying all the right things.’
‘I’ll pick one of the guys if that makes you more comfortable.’
‘No, take the hot blonde. She did seem to be the only one who thought she’d get you back on your feet,’ Molly sighs, then she mutters, ‘But you should know, if we need to hire a nanny once the baby comes, I’m going to pick some gorgeous young guy with a six-pack as revenge.’
‘I’m sure he’ll have more going for him than a six-pack – a degree in child development, at least.’
‘Let’s see who applies for the position. I can be flexible about qualifications where there’s a six-pack involved.’
‘What was that I was saying about you being a professional who’d never blur lines?’
She grins at me, and kisses me. ‘I’ll call Tracy and offer her the job,’ she tells me.
My whirlwind wife has organised everything for me. She had all of the kitchen counters and bathroom spaces lowered so I can access them, and the space I remember as one of her sitting areas has miraculously been transformed into a rehabilitation gym. I’ll work out with the physiotherapist with a 180-degree view of Sydney Harbour to enjoy. Molly has even organised for a permanent dog walker, who will bring Lucien into the city to visit us a few times a week. She’s thought of everything. The day the tradesmen move out, I pack my bag and have the van take me to my new home. She’s waiting at the door when the elevator opens and we stare at each other.
‘Welcome home,’ Molly says. I move myself forward to her, push my bag off my lap onto the floor and take both of her hands in mine.
‘It’s great to be home,’ I say, and I mean it. She shows me around and I survey the changes she’s made with a sense of almost overwhelming awe.
‘What do you think?’ Molly asks me nervously when we return to the entrance.
‘What do I think?’ I repeat, and I grab her hand and pull her onto my lap. ‘Kiss me. I love you. That’s what I think!’
She giggles and gives me a very gentle, teasing kiss, then disentangles herself and walks back into the kitchen.
‘You promised me a soufflé when you came home, Stephens,’ she calls.
‘This is a lot of effort to go to just to get a soufflé,’ I say as I follow her.
‘Pregnant women sometimes do some crazy things in order to fulfil their cravings. I would have thought you’d have learned that with all of your research.’
Later that night, after takeout and soufflés, we make love in Molly’s bed – that same bed where we made love for the very first time. There are echoes of that night all around us, but it is inevitably a very different expression of our love.
I am, by necessity, a much more passive participant now. We find creative ways to work around my disability and Molly is very good at distracting me at moments when I might have fixated on what I can’t do rather than the miracle of what we still can. We make it work – and somehow, the determined teamwork and communication required add a layer of intimacy that I hadn’t expected.
Afterwards, she lies against my chest and I hold her so tightly that my arms tremble around her. Humbled by her, and humbled by the experience of being with her again, I kiss her hair and I whisper to her, ‘I love you so much.’ I squeeze my arms around her again. ‘These have always been my favourite moments with you.’
‘Really?’ she sounds sceptical, and I laugh softly and kiss her again.
‘Yeah, really. For me, these are the moments that make what we just did “making love” rather than “having sex”.’
When we fall asleep that night, we lie on our sides and I tuck my whole body up close against her back. I rest my hands on her belly, over the place where our baby is nestled, and I feel completely at peace and completely content with my situation – thoughts of work and my legs and even my memory are far, far away.