“I know,” I say warmly, with a bit of a rueful tilt to my smile. His fingertips skim across my belly, intimate but hardly sensual, but I feel a flicker of warmth. It’s enough to have me feeling almost relieved. It feels like I’m slowly unthawing.

“I’m up for some multitasking,” I tell him with a smile, scooping up the wine and heading toward the kitchen. My helping usually includes fetching utensils and refilling his wine, so I start my finding the bottle opener and retrieving two glasses from the cabinet. “What are you thinking?”