Chapter 15
Fifteen
EMILY
It’s almost five in the morning when I walk into the darkened house. A light left on in the kitchen casts a glow over Derek and Victoria curled together on a pile of comforters and pillows in the living room floor. A memory of Ryan surfaces, him laid out on a blanket in the backyard with four-year-old James at his side, pointing out constellations on a clear summer evening. A hole widens in my chest.
My frustration at tonight’s disaster dissipates.
“Hey,” Derek whispers, and I realize I’ve been staring at them for some time. He glances over at Victoria. “She said she couldn’t sleep.”
“I think she played you.” If there’s someone willing to cuddle with her, Victoria will take it.
I bend down to scoop her little sleep heavy body, but Derek reaches her first. He carries her toward the bedroom, and I pick up the pillows. He returns a moment later, running his fingers through his hair.
“Don’t fucking do that again.” His eyes stay on me as if he’s searching for a promise from me.
“Tonight was the first time I took them with me.” I tuck my chin into the pillow as I hug it to my chest, letting the shitty feelings return because I pride myself on being a good mother. I am. I had no choice. Although, I could have called him. “It was dangerous. Irresponsible. Never again. And I will call you.”
“If I couldn’t have, I would have asked my dad or Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
Derek’s shoulders drop. “I would have paid someone to watch him. The point is, you’re not alone in this.”
My eyes water, and my limbs turn to wet noodles as a yawn overtakes my body. As if it were contagious, Derek stretches, his shirt lifting, and his jeans dip, revealing a V of muscles. I’m too tired to pretend I’m not ogling.
Derek chuckles as he reaches for the pillow in my hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Why isn’t he more upset me with me?
Instead of giving up the pillow, I place my hand over his. Through the entire ordeal of crossing the border, I never worried about James and Victoria. “Thank you.” I squeeze his hand.
He stares at where we’re connected. He takes a step forward and pulls me into him. The pillow in my arms between us flattens like my lungs as the air in me escapes.
“I keep my promises.” His eyes search mine. “You’re not alone in this.”
His hand removes the pillow from between us. I hold my breath at the intense way he watches me, as if he’s going to close the space between us. He lets the hand with the pillow drop to his side, and he pulls me as he walks backwards, leading me toward the rooms. “I’ll stay here so you can sleep in.”
Too soon, he releases me inside my bedroom and hands me the pillow. With a smile, he says, “It smells like you.” He leaves and closes the door behind him. I stare at it, debating if I’m brave enough to invite him to sleep in my bed. The couch is too short for him. The floor can’t be comfortable.
It would be completely platonic. Friends don’t let friends sleep on the floor, right? Are we friends? I can be friendly. I open the door, prepared to go to the living room and convince him, but he’s standing in the hallway, staring at the door. I take a step toward him. He takes one toward me. We’re inches apart.
My heart thumps against my ribs with excitement. He stayed. It seems silly something so small produces such big feelings in me.
“I, uh,” I lose my words and force myself to continue. “Don’t floor, share my pillow.”
What am I saying?
His brows quirk up.
“I mean, I, the floor isn’t comfortable. It’s not a big deal if we share my bed. It’s big enough and we can make a pillow wall.”
“A pillow wall?”
His playful smile brings out my own. “I want you to feel safe.”
I take a step back. He crosses the threshold into my room. “I’m going to get the other pillows, and if you change your mind while I’m out there, I won’t take offense.”
I shake my head a little too fast. “I won’t.”
He sends me one last searching look and walks out. I rush into the bathroom, turn on the water, and don’t wait for it to warm up. Holding in the scream under the spray of freezing water, I scrub off the stench of beer and sweat. I shiver as I towel dry, put on some deodorant, lotion, and dress in work out shorts and the baggiest tee shirt I own.
I inhale deeply before entering the room. It’s empty. Maybe he changed his mind?
I turn down the comforter. I don’t have enough pillows for a wall. I set one in the middle of the bed in case he comes back.
He appears at the door as soon as I slip under the sheet. He crosses his arms and leans into the frame. “You made a very weak wall.”
I swallow as I flip on my side and give him my back and pretend to yawn. Making a ridiculous noise, I stretch my arms over my head. “I can’t attack you if I’m asleep.”
His light laugh comes closer and the bed dips. With a click of the lamp, darkness surrounds us. The sheets crinkle, and the bed moves .
“My back will thank you in the morning,” he says.
I mumble, “you’re welcome,” and close my eyes, hoping sleep claims me.
Derek exhales, and the bed shifts again like he’s getting comfortable. I don’t move. I don’t turn around. I don’t sleep. I lie still, waiting for his breathing to even out. As tired as I am, I want sleep. If I’m going to function in the morning, I need sleep. I spend what feels like another half-hour processing my stupid offer. What will I tell James and Victoria when they find Derek here in the morning? In all my frustration and exhaustion, I didn’t think things through.
“Night, angel,” Derek whispers.
I hold my breath. Was he awake this whole time? Was I meant to hear it? I don’t move for what feels like forever. Eventually, sleep claims me.
Sunshine pours through the windows, and the smoky scent of bacon reaches my nose. I stretch my arms over my head. I must have slept in and Nana is making breakfast.
But the house is quiet. Too quiet.
I bolt off the bed.
In the kitchen, a shirtless Derek wipes down the stove while moving his hips to a beat only he can hear. I cover my mouth to keep sound from escaping. I must not have done a good job, because Derek whirls around and sends me a warm, knee-weakening smile.
I’m in trouble.
“Your grandmother took Victoria with her, but James is in bed. Said he had a tummy ache.”
I pivot and rush to the kids’ room. James sits between the twin beds, legs crossed, reading a book .
“Hey,” I whisper. He looks up and there’s something unfamiliar in his usually sweet face. “Heard you weren’t feeling well.”
James stands, and folds into the bed, covering himself up with the comforter before facing the wall. I recognize the move. The I-don’t-want to-go-to-school-today roll.
I sit and place a reassuring hand on his back. “Are you going to tell me why you don’t want to go to camp?”
Maybe Maddox’s mother said something or maybe even Maddox uninvited him to the birthday party.
“I don’t feel good,” he mumbles.
A noise from the door distracts me. Derek leans against the doorframe wearing a shirt. Shame.
It’s too soon to involve him in this process, but he can watch. James stays curled toward the wall. “I can get the pink medicine so your tummy will feel better soon.”
He shakes his head like I expect him to. “I want a banana.”
“Okay, but will you tell me what exactly you’re feeling?”
I promised myself I would always be honest with my children, as best I could and as hard as it may be. I would model and encourage them to be honest with me.
His small shoulders move under the comforter. “Don’t feel good.”
I push off the covers. “Show me where it hurts.”
His hand goes to his upper chest. Same spot as always. I kneel on the floor and wrap my hand around him to adjust him until he faces me. He keeps his eyes closed.
“Tell me what happened at camp yesterday.”
He shakes his head. His eyes open, and they go over my head, landing on Derek.
I look over my shoulder, and Derek’s straightened his worried expression.
“Is it too late to go?” James asks, pushing the covers past his legs.
“I can take you,” Derek offers.
James stops moving. His eyes land on me, full of questions. This isn’t about a kid or a parent at camp being rude.
I stand, reach Derek, and whisper, “Can you give us a minute?”
The creased line in his forehead deepens as he nods and leaves us. I shut the door behind him.
I’d rehearsed lines in my head for the day I ran into Derek. They fled my mind when I first saw him. I never thought I needed a speech to explain this new man in our lives. I can start with the truth.
“Derek and I grew up together.” Shit, I told him this before. “I had to leave late last night and he offered to stay here and watch you and Victoria. That’s why he’s here this morning. It was too late for him to drive back.”
Why did I ask him to stay?
I push away the taunting answer in my head and focus on James.
James sits on the edge of his bed. “I want to go home.”
I almost answer we are home, but this isn’t home and his sadness is a grave reminder.
“We will.” I don’t know when, but we will. So much for me being honest. “I am getting to know Derek again while we’re here. I want you and your sister to feel comfortable with him. Are you okay if he stays here today?”
One day at a time.
“I feel better. Can you take me to camp?”
I glance over at the clock. “Okay, but we have to hurry.”
“He’s not happy I’m here,” Derek says while James gets ready.
I try to keep my expression neutral but fail once he adds, “I think I should take him. Give him some time to be with me.”
No. He wanted me to take him.
It's hard for me to distinguish between James's decisions and my own must-haves. Things like cleanliness, schoolwork, and politeness are easy. The more complex things like encouraging him to bond with Derek when he’s apprehensive are the hardest to decipher.
“Nothing’s going to happen to him,” Derek says, his brows draw together.
“He asked me to take him. It was a condition of him going.”
“He’s six. He can’t put conditions.”
It’s too soon to send James to camp alone with Derek. “You can drive us. I’ll go with you.” I don’t give him time to argue as I get ready faster than James.
We make it to practice as soon as roll is called. Derek watches as kids line up and retrieve gloves from bags and warm up. “He needs to know who I am. Soon.”
No . Telling him about Derek will be like taking Ryan away, the only father he knows. How will he understand? And what about Victoria? Will she understand any of this?
“Give him time. You’re new in his life. They’ve had a lot of change.” They don’t need more upheaval in their young lives. Like James said, we miss home, and nothing will stop us from moving back.