Chapter 40 Gavin
Gavin
WE SHOULD PROBABLY TALK
Ifeel like I got hit by a truck.
Scottie is sleeping soundly, curled around me.
But my body aches.
Last night was something else entirely. Sex is always good with Scottie—it’s always more than just sex—but I’m pretty certain we shifted the planets or changed the tides or caused some sort of damage because it was fucking earth shattering.
Or maybe I’m just that far gone, so fucking in love with this girl.
Her breath is warm against my chest, her leg thrown over mine, hair a mess across the pillow and my shoulder. I should be exhausted but my brain is wide awake, replaying every second of last night in loops.
I don’t think I’ll ever recover from that.
I brush a strand of hair off her forehead, careful not to wake her. Her nose scrunches a little and she nuzzles back into me
She sighs in her sleep, fingers flexing against my ribs.
I kiss her again, slower this time, right where her temple meets her hairline.
She stirs, eyelashes fluttering, “Mmm.”
“Morning.”
She stretches, a soft full-body movement, then buries her face deeper against my chest. “Were you staring at me while I slept?”
“Yes.”
She giggles into my skin. “It’s like you’re obsessed with me, or something.”
“Glad you finally noticed.”
I feel her smile as she rest against me.
“So, last night was fun,” I stay, putting a feeler out to see how she’s doing.
She’s silent for a beat and my stomach drops, worried that it was painful or she’s too sore or that I hurt her.
“It was okay,” she says finally.
I freeze. “Just okay?”
That’s not what she said last night.
I shift so I can see her face. “Are you sore? Do you need anything?”
The last thing I want is to have hurt her. I tried to really take my time and get her ready.
“My muscles ache,” she admits, stretching her toes under the covers, “but I’m fine.”
“So then why was it just okay?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it wasn’t very satisfying that’s all.”
I choke on my own spit. “Scottie, you came so hard it shook the walls, what are you talking about?”
Is she being serious right now? Am I remembering a different experience entirely?”
She looks up at me then, eyes bright with mischief, and I finally catch up.
“I faked it,” she says, voice still rough with sleep, like she can barely get the words out without laughing.
I roll her gently onto her back and slide in beside her again, propping myself up on one elbow so I can lean over her.
“Is that so?” My lips press to the column of her neck, her rapid pulse telling me she’s nothing but a dirty little liar.
“I guess that mess you made on my hands while I fucked that tight little ass was a figment of my imagination.”
A moan escapes her throat as I drag my tongue down to her collarbone.
“I’m really good at faking it.”
“Then do it again for me. Let’s see if my wife can fake her way through coming twice.”
She doesn’t.
Not even a little.
And I make sure of it—twice.
“We should probably talk,” Scottie says.
“Yeah,” I murmur as I join her on the couch. “We probably should.”
We were supposed to have this talk last night, but that didn’t exactly happen. Talking was pretty low on the list of things we did.
“So,” I start, rubbing the back of my neck, “cat’s out of the bag?”
Her mouth curves. “Yeah. Kind of feels like a weight’s been lifted.”
It really does. I’m ready to tell the world how in love with this woman I am. “So where do we go from here?” I ask her, because I know what I’m ready for.
Her smile softens as she drops her gaze from mine. “I think that I don’t want to get a divorce.”
When her gaze lifts back up, her eyes are bright and clear.
“I don’t want to get a divorce either.” I can’t help but smile.
“But,” she starts. “I’m still going to finish the eight-week contract. I’m already committed, and honestly, I think I need to go back. I didn’t get to leave on my own terms, and I want to reclaim some of that.”
I knew she would, that was never in question. It was always what comes afterward that has be worried. Because I don’t know the answer, and I’m terrified hers will break something in me.
“What about when the eight weeks are up?”
I hold my breath, waiting for the blow. For the moment she tells me out futures might not be aligning.
I have no plans to let her go, but I won’t be able to follow her if she choose to stay in Chicago or move somewhere else entirely.
At least not until Lily is older, and out of the house.
She’s my priority, and I have to do what’s best for her, even if it’s not what’s best for me.
“About that,” she starts, and my stomach starts to sink. “I was going to tell you earlier,” she says, “but I wanted to wait until it was official. My old director got fired.”
I straighten. He deserves to be a lot more than fired, but at least there’s one small win in this. “That’s good right? He should be arrested, but it’s a start.”
She nods. “After I filed the complaint against him, they investigated and found enough to remove him from the theater, so yeah it’s a good thing.”
Her voice has me nervous. She should sound more excited or relieved that some form of justice has finally taken place, but she sounds…hesitant.
She breathes a humorless laugh. “The company offered me my old job back.”
My stomach drops. The words echo around in my head until they settle like stones. I try to swallow, but it catches halfway down.
I should be happy for her. I am happy for her. But beneath that it fucking hurts. Because I was starting to convince myself that after the eight weeks were up, she’d come back. Back here. Back to me. Back to us.
Instead, it feels like the air just got sucked out of the room.
I don’t trust my voice, because the only thing fighting to come out are words that sound a lot like stay.
And I can’t do that to her. Not after everything she’s fought to get back.
“Does that mean—”
“I turned it down,” she says, cutting me off.
My head snaps up. “You did?”
“Yeah.” Her voice steadies, a flicker of pride in her eyes. “Because I think I finally figured out what kind of role I want next.”
I blink, waiting, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.“Yeah?”
“Remember that community theater director job I told Maggie and Carl about?”
I nod. Of course I remember it. I just assumed when she never brought it back up, that it was for the benefit of the lie. I didn’t think it was real.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it. Irene’s retiring soon, and I think I’d be a good fit.” Her forehead creases, nerves written all over her. “What do you think?”
I let out a slow breath. “I think,” I say carefully, “that if it makes you happy, I’m all in. And if it doesn’t, we’ll figure it out. I’m in this, Scottie. You’re it for me. That’s not changing.”
Her throat works as she swallows. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then I’ll call Irene.”
I pull her against me, rushed with relief, because I was bracing for bad news. “This means you’re coming back, right?”
She nods against my chest and then her head tilts, eyes meeting mine. “If the pool house is still available, maybe I can stay there when I get back.”
For a second I think she’s actually serious, but then I catch the flare in her yes, that little spark of mischief.
“Fuck the pool house. You’re not staying in there ever again.” I wrap my arms around her tighter. “You’re staying in this house. In our bed. End of discussion.”
“Very caveman of you.” She giggles.
“So the plan is: stay married, you go to Chicago for eight weeks, and then move here. Permanently.”
She nods, smiling brightly. “Yes, and then you’re never getting rid of me.”
Good, because I don’t want to.
But first we have to survive being apart for two months.
Which shouldn’t be too hard.
I waited for her for years, I can wait a couple more months.
An hour later, we’re walking to my parents’ house to pick up Lily. And we’re going to tell her about us.
When we step inside, she’s lounging on the couch watching a movie, but the second she sees us, she bolts upright and comes running.
“Hi!” she shouts, launching herself into my arms.
“Hey, bear.” I scoop her up, press a kiss to her temple, and set her back down.
Scottie crouches to get eye-level with her, smoothing Lily’s hair and straightening the little frill on her shirt before smiling at her. “Hey, Lil.”
Seeing her do little things like that—things a mom would normally do—warms me in a way I can’t describe.
It’s not something I ever wanted to ask of her, but she’s done it anyway, without hesitation. And I’ve fallen a little more in love with her because of it.
In the kitchen, my mom’s made cookies, and Lily talks nonstop while grabbing a few for the road. When we finally say our goodbyes and head outside, Scottie and I exchange a look.
I clear my throat. “Hey, bear? Can we talk to you about something?”
Her eyes dart between us. “I guess so.”
I glance at Scottie, and she nods for me to go first.
“So, uh,” I start, “you know how Scottie and I spend time together?”
Lily nods slowly. “Yeah.”
“Well,” I continue, “sometimes when two people spend time together, they want to spend even more time together…”
My words trail off because I’m not making any sense.
“Well,” Scottie jumps in gently, “I think what your dad is trying to say is that we like each other and we want to be together. Like, romantic together…”
Lily blinks, then nods matter-of-factly. “I already know you’re together.”
I pause. “You do? How do you know that?”
“Because,” Lily says, biting into a cookie, “you and Scottie have lots of sleepovers. And my friend Emma said her dad used to have lots of sleepovers with the neighbor, and now she’s her stepmom.”
I glance at Scottie, who’s covering her face with both hands, shoulders shaking with laughter.
Well, I guess we weren’t as sneaky as we thought.
“So what do you think about it, bear?”
My chest tightens while I wait for her answer.
Lily takes her time, chewing her cookie like she’s giving it real thought. Finally, she shrugs. “I guess it’s okay,” she says, crumbs clinging to her lips. Then, after a beat, she adds, “I like when she’s here. It’s nice not being the only girl.”