Chapter 27
She fell asleep just before dawn, the laptop under the covers with her—and woke up a few hours later when Tom climbed into
bed behind her, his bare arms moving around her waist. Cold hands slid up the front of Cherry’s shirt. He slotted into her,
tucked his knees behind her thighs, and sighed.
Cherry didn’t respond. She didn’t even open her eyes.
Tom moved her hair off her neck and kissed it. He tugged the collar of her pajamas open so he could kiss her shoulder. “You’re
so warm,” he said. Cherry let him kiss her. He was much looser than when they first started seeing each other. Much easier
with his affection. “Sleepy girl,” he whispered.
Cherry didn’t respond.
After a minute, Tom tried to roll her around to face him. She went along, limply.
“Hey,” he said, when he could see her face. He lifted her chin. “What’s wrong?”
Cherry shook her head. “Nothing.”
He ran his thumb along her cheek. “Your eyes are swollen.”
She shook her head again. She felt her eyes start to swim. “It’s nothing.”
Tom’s face was serious. “Did something happen?”
“No.” Tears spilled onto Cherry’s nose and into her hair. “Nothing happened.”
Tom’s whole hand cupped her cheek. “Do you promise that nothing happened?”
She nodded, crying a little harder.
“Baby, baby . . .” Tom said, working an arm underneath her to hold her against him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just . . . sad, about something. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Tom said, hugging her.
She cried even harder.
He stroked her cheek. He smoothed back her hair and kissed her forehead. “Baby . . .” he whispered.
Cherry keened softly.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He’d pulled her completely against him. He was soothing her with both hands and kissing her hair every few seconds. “Cherry,
baby . . .”
He lifted his head up to kiss her wet cheeks. To try and look in her eyes. “It’s okay if you need to cry . . . Would you like
to cry over a bagel?”
Cherry smiled, sort of, but shook her head.
“Okay,” Tom said, “but they’re from Bagel Bin. And they’re still warm.”
She sniffed. “You went all the way out to Bagel Bin?”
He nodded. “And I got you two sesame bagels . . .”
Cherry tried to hide her face in his neck.
“. . . one with lox cream cheese,” he said, “and one with green olive, so you don’t have to choose.”
Cherry laughed. It triggered more tears.
“Why don’t you have a bagel, and then you can cry on me all morning?”
She didn’t respond.
“I got coffee, too,” he whispered.
Cherry looked up at him. There was a furrow between his eyebrows, and his sky-blue eyes were open and searching. This must
be what Tom looked like when he was actually concerned about her, and not just generically concerned about everything.
“Okay,” Cherry said, giving in.
Tom smiled. “Okay.” He moved away from her. “Let’s get you sat up.”
She pushed herself up. She was wearing gray flannel pajamas with a tipsy pink-elephant pattern. The elephants were dressed
in evening wear and drinking champagne. Tom liked these pajamas. Tom liked anything whimsical. Once she’d unleashed her wardrobe
on him, he’d been wholly appreciative.
He sat up next to her, in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He handed her the coffee cup first. Then he reached into the paper Bagel
Bin bag and set two bagels in Cherry’s lap. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Here,” he said, “do you want to blow your
nose?” He got a napkin out of the bag and gave it to her.
Cherry blew her nose. She took a sip of coffee. “Thanks.”
She set the coffee on the floor next to the mattress and unwrapped her bagel. It was still warm. She took a bite.
Tom was watching her. He had a bagel, too. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
After a few bites, Cherry felt better—because food always made her feel better. Because she was a fat girl inside and out.
Tom had got her right in that comic. She was a caricature.
Tom kissed her cheek again. He moved his lips to her ear. “I know I said you could cry on me all day”—his voice was softly
urgent—“and you can. But I’d move heaven and earth to never see you cry again, Cherry. I love you so much, you know?”
Cherry was taken aback.
She didn’t know.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and welling with more tears.
He kissed her mouth quickly, twice. “Tell me you know.”
“I . . .” Her voice broke.
“Oh, baby, no.” Tom huffed out a breath, like he felt helpless. “That’s not supposed to make you cry. What am I doing wrong?”
Cherry set her bagel on the bed and leaned into his chest.
He stroked her hair and let her cry—he couldn’t do anything to stop her.
“If this is what happens when we spend a night apart,” Tom said, “I’m done with all that.”
Cherry laughed. She felt ridiculous. She felt aimless. Like she really didn’t know how she was supposed to feel and what she
was supposed to want. She knew what she did want—Tom. As desperately as ever. “Promise?” Cherry said.
Tom squeezed her tight, probably grateful for a sign of life. “I promise. I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”
“I missed you,” she said. If Tom had been here, Cherry’s mind never would have gone a-wandering.
“I missed your cute pajamas,” he said.
“I love you, Tom.” Cherry’s voice broke saying it.
“I love you, too,” Tom said very quietly. He squeezed her. “Do you know?”
Cherry nodded her head.