I ease out of bed and quietly walk into the kitchen to make myself a piece of toast and grab a cup of yogurt. I am cleaning my plate when Jon walks out of our room. He comes behind me, pushing himself up against me, his hands on my hips. I freeze, my hands still in the sink. He leans down to kiss my neck. I am too nervous to react, I don’t want him to stop. Jon turns me to face him, I stand with my arms out in front of me, dripping water onto the floor. Jon's hands are on my neck as he kisses me. I kiss him back, happy to be in his arms once again.
He makes love to me that morning, playfully pulling me back to our bedroom. It has been at least a month since he has shown any interest. The last time I initiated it Jon seemed almost distracted the whole time, avoiding my kisses and leaving the bedroom once he was finished. This time is like old times, Jon kissing me and murmuring silly, sexy things to me. I feel as though my prayers are being answered, as though it is a sign that whatever is broken with us can be fixed. I spend most of Sunday in his arms, blissfully happy. He isn’t cold or distant, he is charming and loving. Jon makes dinner that night, flirting with me as he cuts up carrots to steam.
He puts on some music and when the food does not need tending pulls me off the sofa and dances me around the room. After dinner he makes love to me again. I fall asleep in his embrace as he absentmindedly plays with my hair, my body tucked into the crook of his arm. It was the best day.