Page 47 of More With You

Grace brightens. “Yes, please!”

“How about the day after tomorrow?”

Grace looks to her dad. “Can we, Daddy?”

“We sure can, Duckling. We’ll have to make sure to bring your pictures, too, so Summer can see all the fun things you did in Italy.” Ben flashes me a wink. “She’s a better artist than me.”

Grace nods in agreement. “He paints the same things. I paint lots of things.”

“I can’t wait to see them.” I drain the watery remnants from my glass, which barely taste of coffee anymore, and get up. Gathering up my bag, Ms. T appears at my side, with an expression of pure pride on her perfectly made-up face.

“I’ll tell Mr. T to go straight to your cottage when he gets back,” she assures, with an eyebrow of disapproval. “I know what’ll have happened. He’ll have gotten talkin’ to those Taylors, and they’ll have sent him to one of their nosy neighbors for one odd job or another. By now, he’ll have fixed half the street. Won’t take a dollar, either, the handsome fool. But your AC will be runnin’ smooth as you like by the time you get home. Scouts honor.”

I chuckle. “Thanks, Ms. T. The doors are locked but tell him where I keep the spare key.”

“Will do.” She leans in under the pretense of taking the glass out of my hand, and whispers, “You did great, honey. She’s a peach. You both are.”

It seems silly to think of meeting a kid as an achievement, but my head and my heart feel like they deserve a gold star. It’s hard to explain, but, before the boat trip with Ben, this would’ve been impossible. I suppose I thought I was cold inside, unable to feel the things that ordinary people, who had ordinary, wholesome childhoods feel. Or not cold, exactly, but impervious to the sweet nature of children. I thought my skin was too thick: an armored shell that I was forced to grow in my own childhood. Turns out, I’m softer inside than I knew. I see myself as a sort of armadillo, curled up for so long that I’d forgotten how to unfurl.

Sure, I’ve got a way to go, but Grace seems to speak to a part of me that has been hidden for a long time. The inner child, cowering under the bed of my subconscious, who has just been waiting for someone to tell her it’s okay to come out. It’s safe.

“Duckling, why don’t you ask Ms. T to help you pick out a few books, while I say goodbye to Summer?” Ben encourages, and Grace seems perfectly content to let Ms. T guide her through the children’s section, as I head toward the door with Ben as my shadow.

The balmy heat hits me like I’ve stepped into a marsh, and the mud and slime are sucking me down, slowing my walk to a lethargic drag. I’m even less inclined to go to work. At least there’ll be industrial-strength air conditioning at the casino, so the customers don’t get too sleepy and forget why they’re there.

“Thank you,” Ben murmurs, drawing level as we round the corner and head into the slightly cooler shade of the side-street.

I turn to face him, smiling. “I wonder if it would’ve gone like that if I’d panicked about it for days.”

“You were perfect,” he says, closing the gap between us. His hands cradle my throat as he gazes down into my eyes, which are saying all the things he’s too overwhelmed to say. He’s happy, he’s relieved, he’s hopeful. I can see it.

My breath hitches. “She is perfect. That kid is going places.”

“I’m pretty proud of her,” Ben agrees, bending down to kiss me. I’m already on tiptoe, rising to meet his lips.

As our mouths begin their oh-so familiar dance, he pushes me back against the wall of the Climbing Rose. I gasp as he leans into me, rolling his hips with the ebb and flow of his lips, like an echo of our first night together. My hands slip under his t-shirt, needing to feel his bare skin under my fingertips.

I feel the fever of him rushing through me, adding twenty degrees to the intense heat of the day. But this is a heat I can bear. This is the heat I crave. I kiss him hard on the mouth, pulling him as close as I can, though it’s not close enough. It won’t be, until I have him in my bed again. Nevertheless, this’ll take the edge off until we can be together, like that, once more.

He breaks away: his head sagging down to my shoulder as his harsh breaths tickle my skin. “I wish you didn’t have to go to work.”

“So do I,” I whisper: my heart ablaze.

He lifts his head and smiles. “Can I see you tonight?”

“I don’t know—can you?” I bring my hands around his waist and smooth them up his broad chest.

He chuckles. “I’ll text you. Grace will be in bed by… seven, so I can come to you after.”

“Do you have a babysitter?” I can’t understand why I’m trying to find reasons for him not to come to the cottage, but I find myself thinking about that sweet girl, and my priorities switch. Has that always been there, and I just didn’t know? Maybe, I’ve got a stitch of maternal instinct inside me, after all. Or maybe it’s that inner child holding the reins, reminding me of all the nights I spent alone, way too young to look after myself, waiting for my mom to come home. The silent tears, the door-watching, the terror at the slightest unknown sound, the endless tick of the clock, and the weird relief when my mom would stumble in drunk and loud, dragging some guy with her.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “It’s a compromise.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother and father. I compromised. Grace is going to stay at their house for the week, but she’ll be at mine for the last weekend before her mom comes to get her,” he explains, and there’s a flicker of approval in his expression. Did I prove something? I’m not sure.

Wait…

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