27. Easton
TWENTY-SEVEN
Easton
The next morning comes, and I wake up before Hazel does. She's lying next to me in the bed, her body draped in the blanket that I pulled over the top of us last night, and I realize that neither of us moved more than an inch or two the entire night.
I don't think I've slept that good in ages.
And still, as awareness pulls me into the light of day, the nerves and the thoughts I can't keep at bay find me again.
I sneak out of bed, being as quiet and gentle as I can, unwilling to wake Hazel. I want to get some coffee. I want to think.
I creep over to the closet and pull on a pair of boxers and some shorts, grabbing one of my old T-shirts and throwing it on over my head.
When I step out of the closet, Hazel is still sawing logs. I smile at her as she lays there in my bed, liking this sight more than I care to admit.
For a few minutes, I just stare at her, watching her breath move up and down as she lays against the mattress with her eyes closed gently.
It occurs to me that I could watch her sleep like this for hours. So, eventually, I pull myself away and head downstairs to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
The entire house is quiet. It's still very early, and I'm the only one awake. I reach inside the cupboard for a mug and then walk over to the coffee machine to put in the grounds and get it brewing.
I’ve never been a single-cup coffee kind of guy, so I never bothered with the Keurig. I know that I'll be drinking several cups by the time the day is over.
Caffeine and I have a very serious relationship.
When I know there's enough for at least one cup in the pot, I bring over my mug and fill it up. I usually take it black, so with my full mug, I walk over to the island and have a seat.
What in the hell happened last night?
I mean, logically, I know exactly what happened last night. I can remember every detail. I can feel all the places that Hazel and I touched.
We fell asleep after that first time, but halfway through the night, we found each other again, losing ourselves to the feeling of having one another so close.
We made love a second time, and it was slow, so much more gentle, and less desperate than the first. I realize it was that time that really broke me.
I don't know what's happening between us. I want to say that it's this beautiful miracle, that we'll have so much to look forward to. But I've got to admit to myself that I have no proof of that at all.
I didn't come back to Hazel all those years ago, and I know she worries that I will pull that shit again. She has every reason to. Sometimes I worry about it myself.
I'm not good at this relationship thing and being with each other and putting my trust in another person.
I've never been good at this.
And I don't know how to get any better at it.
It feels a lot simpler to just pretend that we got caught up in the emotions of everything that was going on instead of admitting the fact that I'm falling in love with her again.
Instead of admitting the fact that I don't think I ever stopped loving her.
Hazel is everything to me. And it is terrifying.
I'm taking a sip of my black coffee when I hear the stairs creak. I look up, not sure who's going to be joining me, and find Hazel coming down the stairs.
She's put on a pair of sleep shorts and a similar T-shirt to mine, old as dirt, probably from her college days.
I give her a smile, and she smiles back, looking around the kitchen.
“Did you make coffee?”
I nod. “I did. There's a bunch in the pot if you want some.”
She gives me a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and then walks over to the cupboard to pull down her own mug and pour herself a cup of the brown goodness.
It's a quick enough errand, so she sits down at the island next to me, but not too close. And then the room falls back into silence again, neither of us knowing what exactly we're supposed to say.
The air is charged, almost like the time that we weren't talking to each other in the past, but this feels different because so much has happened.
We said a lot of things last night, and I don't necessarily want to take any of them back, but I also don't know how to deal with the reality that I've created around me.
Hazel sips her coffee, and I mimic the action. We set our cups down on the island at the same time, the porcelain clinking against the marble.
When I look up and meet her eyes, I expect her to look away, to shy away from this conversation that we probably should have.
She doesn't.
“Look, we need to talk. A lot has been going on, and about what happened last night, I…”
There's a brief pause, and I can't help but jump in to fill it.
“I understand that you're under a lot of stress, Hazel.” I look her in the eye, trying to show her that I am open and flexible and that we can make this work. We don't need to put labels on it because if we do, I know I'll be just as upset as she is.
“I'm not asking you for anything serious, you know. We can just…play it by ear or whatever.”
There's another brief pause, and I see Hazel's shoulders sag. I'm not sure if that's from relief or disappointment.
“Yeah.” Hazel slowly nods back at me, her eyes traveling from her coffee cup up to mine in a journey that takes longer than it should. “Yeah, you're right. We'll just…we'll see how this all goes, you know. With everything going on…”
I can see the worry fill her face.
“I'm just…well, we need to be able to think about everything and weigh all of our responsibilities against what we might want, you know. So yeah, let's play it by ear. Thanks.”
By the end of that, Hazel’s rambling, but I don't blame her. In fact, I know that I would do the same thing if she hadn't beaten me to it.
My heart is thundering in my chest, but I lock eyes with her, refusing to be that big of a coward. Inside my head, I just repeat the same mantra over and over again.
This can be casual. This can be casual. This can be casual. This. Can. Be. Casual.
Still, my chest pinches at the thought of that. I don't really want to consider what that means. Because if I have any amount of self-reflection in me, I know I feel disappointed at the word casual. I want something more from this.
I want something serious.
But if this is what Hazel needs right now, I will do whatever I need to do to make her happy.
Because I'd rather take this one step at a time than jump in too fast and ruin things again. Lord knows I'm really good at fucking things up.
“Absolutely,” I say, giving her an easygoing grin. “Casual it is.”
Just as I finish talking, more footsteps rumble down the stairs, and I know that my niece is coming around the corner.
In a flash, Jade appears, and she rushes right up to the island, hopping into a chair.
“Hey, so what are we doing today?”
Hazel looks at me, and I just offer her a head shake with a grin. My niece is always interested in what we have planned, and she needs to know as soon as she sees us.
I've gotten used to it, but I have to admit that if it were anyone else here, they might think that Jade was a little demanding.
Quickly, I flip the switch that controls how I behave, going into parent mode, and I give Jade a grin.
“Why don't we go to the park? We can have a picnic.”
“Oh yes, please! A picnic sounds amazing. It's going to be really hot, though. You should bring ice packs. I don't want to get overheated like last time.”
All I can do is chuckle, and Hazel joins me because it's true. Jade got very overheated last time and almost passed out.
“Yes, we can bring ice packs, honey. I'm sure that'll be fine.”
When my eyes find Hazel’s across the island, I can't tell what lingers behind them. I don't know if she's pleased about the conversation that we just had or if she's as unsure about all of this as I am.
But it doesn't really matter, because right now we have a ten-year-old to entertain and a picnic to get ready for.