He holds me like that for a long time. I don’t want him to let go.
He’s the first person I’ve been able to share the full details of that night with, and I wasn’t sure if it would make things better or worse. But this feels better, so maybe that means something.
I feel like a weight has been lifted. It’s not the weight of the anchor that keeps me tethered under the surface—that won’t be lifted until I get to hold my daughter. But a small portion of my pain has attached to his sympathy, and it feels like he’s physically lifting me up for air, allowing me a few minutes to breathe.
He eventually pulls back far enough to assess me. He must see something on my face that makes him want to comfort me because he presses a soft kiss to my forehead while brushing my hair back tenderly. He kisses the tip of my nose and then plants a soft peck on my lips.
I don’t think he expected me to kiss him back, but I feel more for him in this moment than I ever have. I clutch his shirt in my fists and quietly beg his mouth for a much fuller kiss. He gives it to me.
His kisses feel like both forgiveness and promises. I imagine mine feel like apologies to him, because he keeps coming back for more every time we separate.
I end up on my back, and he’s halfway into his truck, hovering over me, our mouths pressed together.
When we’re in the thick of fogging up all the windows, he pulls away from my neck, and there’s a split-second look he gives me. It’s so quick; it’s a flicker, a flash. But I can tell he wants more in that quick glance, and so do I, so I nod and he pulls away and opens his glove box. He grabs a condom and starts to open it with his teeth, bracing himself up with one arm. I take this opportunity to slide my panties off and bunch my long skirt up around my waist.
He gets the package open, but then he pauses.
The seconds begin to drag as he silently stares down at me with contemplation.
Then he tosses the condom aside and lowers himself on top of me again. He presses a soft kiss against my lips. His breath is hot against my cheek when he says, “You deserve a bed.”
I drag a hand through his hair. “You don’t have a bed here?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Not even an inflatable mattress?”
“Our first two times were on an inflatable mattress. You deserve a real bed. And no, I don’t have either one here.”
“How about a hammock?”
He smiles at that, but still shakes his head.
“A yoga mat? I’m not picky.”
He laughs and kisses my chin. “Stop it, or we’ll end up fucking in this truck.”
I wrap my legs around his waist. “And that’s bad how?”
He groans into my neck, and then I lift my hips and he gives in.
He grabs the condom and finishes opening it. While he’s doing that, I’m unzipping his jeans.
He slides on the condom and then pulls me to the edge of the seat. His truck is the perfect height for this. Neither of us even has to adjust ourselves or change positions. He just grips my hips and pushes into me, and even though it isn’t a real bed, it’s still just as good as it was last night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
LEDGER
I don’t know how I found the strength to pull away from her long enough to go inside and get the floors started.
I figured she’d sit back and watch me, or write in her notebook, but as soon as I told her I needed to get some work finished, she asked how she could help.
It’s been three hours. We’ve mostly worked, with the occasional short break to rehydrate and kiss some more, but we’ve finished most of what will be the living room floor.
We’d be done by now if she weren’t wearing that shirt with that skirt. She’s been crawling across the floor, helping me lock the flooring into place, and every time I look at her I can see straight down her shirt. I’m so distracted I’m surprised I haven’t injured myself.
We haven’t discussed a single thing of importance since we exited the truck. It’s as if we left all the important stuff inside it and chose to carry nothing of weight with us into this house.
It’s been such a heavy day already; I’m doing everything I can to keep things light. We both are. I haven’t brought up the letter since we came inside. She hasn’t mentioned the restraining order, I haven’t mentioned Mother’s Day under this roof, we haven’t talked about what our new physical connection means or how we’re possibly going to navigate it. I think we both know the conversations will come, but right now it feels like we’re on the same page, and all we want out of today’s page is to ride the high of each other.