“You’re a cyberguru. Doesn’t that make you the epitome of logical?”
His low laugh rumbled his chest against hers. “I like to think I’m a Renaissance man, in touch with my emotions. I’m here for now. Let’s go with the flow.”
In the moments before the next kiss, she searched his eyes and wondered if, and how long, she could take him up on that dare?
* * *
As Natalie cracked open the door, a long yawn of hall light winked into her daughter’s room, illuminating Lexie’s sleeping form. At the threshold, Natalie watched the steady rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing.
With silent footfalls, Natalie crossed the room, and made it to her daughter’s bedside. She planted a kiss on Lexie’s forehead. Lexie didn’t stir, seemed content in whatever sweet dreamscape danced before her closed eyelids. A small stuffed animal—a unicorn named Mrs. Agatha—was snuggled up next to her daughter, whose little fingers were twined in the purple mane.
Content with the scene at hand, Natalie left Lexie’s bedside and made her way to Colby’s room for their nighttime ritual.
The last rays of the sun had melted away, and the hall no longer boasted a cool autumn glow. Instead, the manufactured light of the hall—dim in comparison to the natural amber of a few moments ago—guided her to the other end of the hall, to the blue door that led to Colby.
Clicking open the door, she let herself into the plain white room. Paintings of fish lined the walls, an array of end-of-the-rainbow colors dancing before her eyes. She’d made a gallery wall for him—hung up his meticulously colored pages of deep-sea fish. He seemed to enjoy the soothing nautical world.
She stretched, eyes meeting the now-familiar scene of Colby underneath his blanket, reading. He had his own flashlight, one she’d bought him with the barrel decorated in magnifying glasses and microscopes, part of a science kit.
The weighted blanket draped over his head, thick enough to give him the pressure he preferred, but thin enough for remnants of the flashlight’s beam to penetrate the fabric as he read underneath. A silent fan whirred, cooling him. Miss Molly was stretched out beside him, pressed up against her charge.
Miss Molly’s deep brown eyes seemed to spark with interest as Natalie made her way to the bedside. Tail thumping, the golden retriever let out a small whine but didn’t move away from Colby.
He let the blanket slide down, exposing himself to the air of his room and to her. Natalie’s heart fluttered a bit, as she wondered how to connect and engage with her son—her deeply kind son—even more.
Hugs were on his terms, but they had developed another language of affection. She softly tapped her fingertips along the top of his hand, then his forehead. A smile pushed up his lips, reached his eyes.
Not a hug, but a connection. A genuine connection. These little moments meant everything to her, and she imprinted them into her memories to draw comfort from in tougher times.
He closed his book and set it aside, then turned off his flashlight as a yawn shook his whole body. Blinking at her, he lay down. “Good night.”
So matter-of-fact and confident.
“Good night, Colby.” She stroked a hand along Miss Molly’s swirls of fur, the dog being the link between them; then she closed the door after her.
She sagged back against the hall wall and let out a hard sigh. Glancing down the hall, she noted—how could she not?—that a warm glow emanated from under Max’s door.
He was still awake and here.
Not that it should matter to her.
Still, she envisioned him in the room, casual and relaxed in her home. More than just a guest?
Silly thoughts. Shaking her head, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. It had been a few weeks since she’d spoken to her own parents. An overdue conversation.
Natalie glanced over the railing and down, nodding at the guests sitting in the landing area on an overstuffed couch. They were huddled under a fluffy blanket with the staples of movie watching—popcorn and candy. The thirtysomething man, Albert, balanced a laptop on his lap while his wife, Beth, rested her head on his shoulder.
The thing about running a B and B was that Natalie continually had access to private moments. And many—like this one—made another tear in her barely healed heart. Which made it all the easier to respect the couple’s privacy. She went quickly downstairs on soft feet to make her phone call.
Natalie rounded the corner into the kitchen, sat at the table and dragged in a couple of bracing breaths before she hit the speed dial for her mother.
Five rings.
It had taken five rings for her mother to answer. Already, a knot formed in Natalie’s stomach.
“Hey, Mom. How are things?” Staring hard at the table and scratching her finger along a scar Colby had worn into the wood with a compulsive scratch when he was three, she waited for her mother to respond.
“Hello, Natalie. It’s nice to hear from you after all this time.” The dig chipped away at Natalie’s heart. “Things are just fine here. Your father and I are planning a vacation.”