Page 78 of That Reilly Boy
She smiles at the dog, who’s sitting by my feet and looking up at me as though to inform me this has been fun, but she’d like to go home now.
“A wall of Penny?” Cara says, smiling but sounding skeptical.
“We’ll make it work.”
It’s too late to go anywhere at this point, but too early to go to bed, so we end up in the living room, watching sitcom repeats. We’re at opposite ends of the slightly lumpy couch, with Penny stretched out against my thigh.
I’m starting to get drowsy, wondering if Cara will sit here and watch TV all night rather than face going to bed, when she moves suddenly. One second, she’s leaning on the far arm of the couch and the next, Penny’s sandwiched between us and her head’s on my shoulder.
That’s when I hear the creaking above us, and then the sound of Gin coming down the stairs. She doesn’t even look at us while walking through the living room into the kitchen, and Cara sighs.
Two minutes later, Gin retraces her path between us and the television. Once again, she doesn’t look our way, but she has a water tumbler in her hand. Without a word, she goes back upstairs. We follow the creaking and the door slamming, and then Cara moves back to the other end of the couch.
This is fun, I think to myself with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“She’ll be sound asleep by the end of the next episode,” Cara whispers, and I nod.
When she finally turns off the TV, I take Penny outside one final time. She seems resigned to spending the night here, but she’s not pleased with me and takes her sweet time doing her business.
When we go inside, Cara’s nowhere in sight, so I pick Penny up and find the light switches to turn off the lights as I go. I hit the top of the stairs just as Cara comes out of the bathroom. She’s wearing leggings and a long tee, and her hair’s loose around her shoulders.
This is going to be uncomfortable enough for Cara without me stripping in front of her, so I follow her into the bedroom to grab what I’ll need. After setting Penny on the bed, I rummage through my bag for the sleep pants I’d packed.
By the time I’m done in the bathroom, Cara and Penny have claimed their side of the bed, and I smile as I close the bedroom door as quietly as possible. It’s hard not to be aware of how right this all feels, despite the circumstances.
It takes me a minute to find an outlet behind the table on my side of the bed for the charging stand for my watch and phone. Then I turn off the light and use the glow of my phone’s screen to make my way around the heavy wooden footboard without breaking a toe.
After pulling back the sheet and sliding into the bed, I stretch out and listen to Cara breathe. It doesn’t sound as if she’s crying, but I can practically feel her tension radiating across the bed. I want to hug her, but trying to touch her in this bed right now would not help her relax.
“It’ll get easier,” she whispers, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or trying to reassure herself.
“It will,” I reply anyway, in a low voice. “Try to get some sleep.”
It’s a long time before her breathing becomes regular, though. And an even longer time before mine does.
The next morning, I do not wake up perched on the edge of the bed, about to roll off onto the floor.
I inhale the scent of Cara’s hair as my mind shakes off sleep and I realize all three of us are in the middle of the bed. I can’t move my arm because it’s under Cara’s neck, supporting her head—which is tucked under my chin. Her ankle is draped over mine, and my free hand is resting on her hip.
Penny nestles between our chests, her tiny snores making me smile, as they always do.
I should figure out a way to free my arm and get back on my side of the bed before Cara wakes up, but I can’t make myself move. Instead, I close my eyes and breathe deeply, savoring the moment.
What would I give to wake up like this every morning for the rest of my life?
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cara
There are better ways to wake up than being startled out of sleep by the clang and clatter of one’s mother taking her anger out on kitchen pans.
But there are worse ways than waking up in Hayden’s arms. If not for the cacophony of cookware coming from the floor below, I’d think we were back in Boston. Wrapped in the warmth of his body, with an extra little bit of heat near my chest where Penny is curled up, I can’t help but think of what an incredible kisser this man is. And how thorough he is with his hands.
Then he chuckles.
Since he’s obviously awake, I disentangle myself and slide back to my side of the bed, ignoring Penny’s disgruntled sigh. Maybe instead of a wall of Penny, we need a giant wall of pillows. Or a brick wall.
“Your mom’s in a mood this morning.”
