“But I’m right, aren’t I? Doesn’t it feel better to allow yourself to love and be loved than to keep yourself isolated and closed off? Wasn’t that ever lonely?”
“Yes,” he admitted, rubbing Paisley’s back. “Sometimes it was.”
My jaw fell open. “Wow. I didn’t actually think you were going to admit that.”
“I wasn’t going to, but the little feelings madman made me do it.”
I took one of the cushions from behind me and whacked his legs with it. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”
He grinned. “I can’t help it. Not everything about me has changed.”
A few minutes later, we turned out all the lights and went upstairs to bed. It was almost like we were a little family, and the notion gave me a warm feeling deep in my belly. Maybe it would happen someday.
In his bedroom I took off my robe and pants and slipped between the covers. Then I watched as he cradled his daughter and put her to sleep, walking back and forth at the foot of the bed, bouncing her gently. She fussed at first, but eventually she kept the pacifier in her mouth and quieted down. After about five minutes, he was able to lay her in the sleeper.
He disappeared into his closet for a moment, and when he returned he wore only his boxer briefs. My stomach flipped at the sight of all his bare skin, at the memory of what it had felt like to be naked and pressed against him, at the thought that he’d been inside me without protection. Nothing between us. He got into bed, and I snuggled up next to him, my head on his chest. His arms wrapped around me.
We lay that way in silence for a few minutes, and I thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke softly in the dark. “Come with me tomorrow.”
At first I couldn’t think what he meant. “What?”
“To my mom’s house. I want you to come with me.”
I propped myself up on his chest and looked down at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He rubbed my upper arms. “Going there is always difficult. And you make everything better.”
My toes wiggled. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you.”
I lowered my lips to his and held them there a moment. “Thank you for asking me.”
“You might not thank me after we get there. My mother is…odd.”
“That’s okay. I’m not going for her, I’m going for you. To support you.”
He brushed my hair back from my face. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Maybe not. But you’ve got great hands and a big dick, and it’s super convenient that you live right across the hall.”
He laughed quietly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I put my head down again and closed my eyes. “Night.”
“Night.”
I fell asleep to the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft stroke of his hand up and down my back.
“What was your favorite thing to do on a rainy day when you were a kid?” It was a few minutes after ten, and we were in the car on the way to his mom’s house.
The good weather had passed and rain drummed down against the windshield, pooled beneath overpasses on the highway, and made the driving difficult. The windshield wipers in Nate’s fancy car were working overtime, but I still had no idea how he could see. Not that I minded the slow drive. The interior of his car was warm and cozy, Paisley was napping in the back, and the extra time together was perfect for conversation. I was thrilled that he had asked me to come with him today and saw it as the perfect opportunity to learn more about him.
“Probably Legos. I had about a million of them.”
“And what would you build?”
“Cities. My brother and I would build entire cities out of Legos—skyscrapers and houses and garages for our matchbox cars. We had a huge room in the basement devoted to Legos. We used to play down there all the time on rainy days.”
“What about when it was sunny?”
“If it wasn’t raining, we were always outside. There were lots of kids in our neighborhood, and we’d have epic games of Peas and Carrots, which was basically hide and seek.”
I laughed. “Why’d you call it Peas and Carrots?”
“I have no idea,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he changed lanes. “But we always did. And once you were hidden in your spot, you had to yell out peas and carrots to give the person who was it at least a clue where you are hiding, because the houses were so big and the yards were fair game, too. And the tree behind our house was always Goal.” He was quiet for a moment, then he laughed. “Also, I was obsessed with Batman when I was young and always wore a cape like he did. I even slept in it.”
“You did?”
“Yep. Wore it over my Batman pajamas.”
“Please tell me you still have Batman pajamas.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Sorry. But if you really want me to, I’ll come to bed in a cape for you sometime.”
I clapped my hands. “Oooooh, please do. Naked except for the cape. And I think you should wear the mask with the pointy ears too. So sexy.”
He reached over and put a hand on my leg. “Anything for you, babe. Glad to know you have a superhero kink. I like it.”
“What about your brother?” I asked. “Was he Robin to your Batman?”
Nate took his hand away. “Yes.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, during which I was kicking myself for ruining the light mood. Nate’s neck muscles were tense, his mouth a grim line. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing him up. I was only curious.”
It took him a moment, but eventually the tension left his body, and his jaw unclenched. “It’s okay. I’m just not used to talking about him.” He put his hand on my leg again and surprised me by going on. “It’s like there were two eras of my childhood. The Before years, which were idyllic, and the After years, which were agony. And no one ever talked about any of it. We buried the past just like we buried my brother.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I took his hand in both of mine, hoping he would keep talking. He did, although not right away.
“I’m sure we all thought we were doing the right thing by suffering in silence, sparing each other the pain of talking about Adam and our life before leukemia, or even about our grief after he was gone. But it was so hard. I remember feeling torn between wanting to remember him out loud and wishing he had never existed in the first place. I felt a lot of guilt about that.”
“God, that must have been so awful for you.” I squeezed his hand.
“It was. And there was no one I could talk to about it. My mother was drowning in her own grief and guilt, my father turned to the bottle for solace, and my friends didn’t know how to deal with such a huge loss—what twelve-year-old boy does?”
“You needed therapy,” I said. “I can’t believe no one suggested it.”
He shrugged. “Someone might have, I don’t remember. But my parents were not in the right frame of mind to arrange it, and I probably would have refused to go, anyway. Talking about it wasn’t going to bring my brother back.”
“No, but it might have eased your guilty feelings a little bit. Helped you to process the loss and prevented you from being so afraid to care for someone again.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Do you want to talk about him now? About the Before years, I mean? I’d like to know about him.” For a moment, I was afraid I’d gone too far, but then he started to talk.
“He loved baseball. And Swedish fish. And knock-knock jokes. He had a book full of them, and they were all terrible.” He smiled. “I remember this one he used to trot out every time he met someone new. Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?” I said.
“I eat mop.”
“I eat mop who?” As soon as the words were out, I realized what it sounded like I’d said, and burst out laughing. Nate did too, and the sound made my heart beat faster.
“Yeah, he used to love getting people with that one, especially girls.”