Skylar swooned and fell back. “I love when those big, strong types get all talky and vulnerable. It’s so hot.”
“It was,” I said. “But it was kind of sad, too.”
“Why was it sad?” Natalie asked.
“He’s just really hard on himself,” I said, careful not to reveal things Levi had told me in confidence. “In all things. He feels bad for not being able see me more often. He wonders if he’s making the right choices for Scotty. He regrets things from the past. He’s convinced he’s going to fail at trying to balance being a dad and a boyfriend, and he thinks I deserve more than he can give.”
“Wow. What did you say?” Skylar leaned forward.
“I told him I want him, and I understand I can’t be his first priority. I told him I can be patient, and we can go slow.”
“And what did he say?” Natalie was rapt.
“He said he loved me.”
Skylar squealed and leaned back, kicking her feet, and Natalie’s jaw practically hit the floor. “So much for going slow!”
“Oh my God, I’m dying.” Skylar sat up again. “And then what?”
“I told him I felt the same, and then there was more sex.” I paused. “In a bed this time.”
“Where was it before?” Natalie asked.
“Uh, in the hallway at the front door. In the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?” Skylar blinked.
I nodded. “On the counter and against the fridge.”
She fanned her face. “Oh my God. This is insanely hot.”
“Yes…until he had to leave right in the middle of the bedroom episode to go pick up his son.”
Her hand stopped mid-fan. “What?”
I shrugged. “His sister called. Scotty wasn’t sleeping and wanted to come home.”
“So he left?”
“He had to. It’s not like Scotty was being difficult for no reason. He was really upset.”
“What about you?” Natalie asked. “Were you upset?”
“I was, but then I realized I was being selfish. I knew going into last night there was a chance that might happen. And we did have an amazing night…it just ended sooner than we wanted. He was as upset as I was. Maybe more.”
“Wow.” Natalie leaned back on her hands. “That’s tough. Like, this could keep happening.”
I nodded, feeling my fun mood dissipate a little. “It could.”
“So now what?” Skylar asked, crossing her arms. “What’s the next step? Do you just keep going on dates once a week?” Her expression told me what she thought of that idea.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We haven’t made any other plans. It’s hard because getting away is so tough for him.”
“Well then, you should go there. Hang out with him at home. Meet Scotty,” Skylar said firmly.
I lifted my shoulders. “I’ve offered, so we’ll see. I think he’s nervous about it. I’m nervous about it.”
“Of course you are,” Natalie said. “It’s more pressure than meeting someone’s parents. This is a person you’d have to live with, if things worked out. There’s a lot to consider.”
I held up my hands. “Whoa. Don’t jinx me. We have strong feelings for each other, but it’s only been a month. And I do think there’s merit in going slow.” Deep breath. “I just want to keep going forward. Somehow.”
• • •
Late that night, so late I was already in bed with the lights out, he called me again.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” His voice was low and hushed.
“Hey.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. I’m in bed, but I wasn’t asleep yet.”
“Thinking?”
“Yeah.”
“About what?”
“About you. About last night. Truthfully, it’s been hard to think about anything else all day.”
“I’m so sorry about how it ended.”
“That isn’t what I meant, silly.” I rolled onto my side. “I was thinking about it in a good way.”
“I know. I’m still sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. One interrupted night isn’t the end of the world. It was bad luck. We can give it some time and try again.”
“Sure. I’ve been thinking about it today too…and it really was my fault.”
“What was?”
“The meltdown. Not only did I forget to pack the nightlight, but he’d had a really tough week at school. I should’ve known going off the routine was a bad idea.”
“Math again?”
“Among other things, but yes—he has a lot of anxiety about math tests, even though he can have the tests read to him, and he gets extra time.”
“I used to get nervous about math tests too. Not that my anxiety is anything like Scotty’s,” I said quickly, “but I remember the nervous feeling. And you know what my dad did?”
“What?”
I laughed at the memory, which I hadn’t thought about in years. “He gave me a lucky stone.”
“A what?”
“A lucky stone—at least he claimed it was lucky. It was this Petoskey stone he’d found on the beach. He polished it for me, and I’d keep it in my pocket, then take it out and put it on my desk during a test. Or hold it in my left hand.”