His Brother’s Wife
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 13
It had been building for weeks without either of them naming it.
After the kissing lesson, affection had gradually stopped being something they thought about and become something they simply did. When Josh came into the kitchen in the morning, Becky at the stove, he would wrap his arms around her from behind and kiss her neck, and most times she would tilt her head up for a peck on the lips without breaking stride. She had become, somewhere along the way, a professional hugger — throwing her arms around him for no reason, from behind when he was reading, sideways on the couch, full and warm and with her whole heart. He had grown up in a family where affection was spoken more than shown, and he had not known until now how much a person could say with their arms.
She had also been conducting experiments.
He came home from work on a Tuesday to find her waiting in the kitchen doorway, and before he had his coat fully off she stepped forward and kissed him — really kissed him, the way he had taught her, with intent and heat and no ambiguity whatsoever about what she was communicating. He scooped her up and headed for the bedroom and she started laughing, kicking her feet.
“I just wanted to see what you would do!”
He threw her onto the bed and she landed on her back with a bounce, and he pounced on top of her with a fake snarl. “You play with fire you’re gonna get burned.” He grabbed both her hands and pulled them over her head. “Now you’re really gonna get it.”
He tickled her until she was gasping. “Stop. Stop! I’m going to pee myself!”
“Not until I get another one of those luscious, delicious kisses!”
He let go and she wrapped her arms around his neck and bit his lip and kissed him hard. When she broke it she looked up at him with flushed cheeks and said, “I love you so much, Joshua Lowenstein.”
He rubbed his nose against hers. “And I love you too, Rebekah Lowenstein.”
She slapped his chest. “Get up, you bad man. You’re pressing on my bladder.”
She shimmied off the bed and ran to the bathroom, and when she came out he rubbed her backside and she giggled and took off running to the kitchen.
He changed and followed her.
She was prepping lamb chops at the island and he leaned against the counter watching her and thought: she has been thinking about it. Her little stunt today proved that. He crossed to her and patted her backside. “Need help with anything?”
“Let me think a minute. I lost my train of thought.”
“Can I play with the chef while she’s thinking?”
“You nasty man. You just want my body.”
“Guilty as charged. You’ve got a beautiful body.”
“Oh yeah, since when?”
“Since this idiot opened his eyes and saw what a beautiful jewel he was married to.”
She pointed the tongs at him. “Flattery might get you somewhere. Get over here and start on the asparagus and green beans.”
“I’d rather work on you.”
“My mother told me about nasty men like you and to never let anybody touch my precious bits.”
“But I’m Joshua, not anybody.”
“Git your butt over here and start the vegetables. I’m boss of the kitchen and the boss is hungry.” She turned back to the lamb chops. “For food.”
At dinner he sat across from her and made no effort to hide the fact that he was watching her. She smiled and ate quietly. Then she looked up from her plate and asked directly, “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”
“Stupidity must run in the family,” he said, holding her eyes. “Two brothers, and neither one really saw what a beautiful woman they were married to. Inside and out.”
She dropped her head and blushed to her ears and smiled at her plate.
He kept up his antics through the dishes. She cooled him off with a shot from the sprayer. He yelped. She laughed.
Later on the couch, tucked against his side with the television on and neither of them watching it, she was quiet in the way that meant she was deciding whether to say something.
“Josh.”
“Yeah.”
“I have a question. A serious one.”
“Ask it.”
She sat up and turned to face him, pulling her knees to her chest. The lamplight was warm on her face and she looked at him with the full attention she brought to things that mattered.
“Is it scriptural?” she asked. “Being intimate without — without it being for procreation. Seeing each other. Being seen. I know what I was taught. But I also know that what I was taught was one reading. I want to know what the scripture actually says.”
He was quiet for a moment, and she could see he was taking the question seriously rather than dismissing it, which was the right thing to do.
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