35. Posie
CHAPTER 35
Posie
“ I t would’ve been much easier if you just bought it prebuilt,” Dutton complains as he sits on the floor in my bedroom.
I lean against the doorframe, smirking as I hold two coffees.
“That would’ve cost extra money,” Bentley says and points to what looks like the instructions. “You just have to put it together like Lego.”
Bentley is sitting on his knees beside Dutton, picking up bolts and random pieces of the bed’s hardware. I bite my bottom lip and quietly place the coffees on the side table. I take a step back and pull out my phone.
“Posie, I think they sent you a broken bed,” Dutton says, barely controlling his frustration. “Are you listening to me?” He looks over his shoulder, and I take a picture.
A smile spreads on his face. “You think this is funny?”
I shrug as I bring him one of the cups of coffee. When I lean down, I whisper so Bentley doesn’t hear, “I find it comical that my boss, who’s usually so good with his hands, seems to be at a loss as to what to do with them now.”
His gaze darkens as he accepts the coffee. “You will be punished for that.”
“I wonder about that,” I smirk and sit beside Bentley as he tries to help Dutton. For someone who claims to not do well with children, he seems to entertain Bentley plenty.
I tuck my knees under my chin, watching them and listening to their chatter. Dutton easily bounces between the millions of topics Bentley talks about, mostly Transformers, Lego, and his teacher and friends at school.
Part of me wonders if I’m doing the right thing by letting Dutton in my home like this and giving him the privilege of spending time with me and my son. This is not just about sex now. The fact that he stayed outside my home last night proves it. And though knowing he was out there offers me some comfort, I can’t depend on him for it.
But right now, I need that comfort and support to regain my strength for the storm that might soon come.
“Can I have some juice, please?” Bentley asks politely, and I tell him to get one of the little juice boxes from the fridge. It’s just Dutton and me in the room now. He looks disheveled after a night sleeping in his car and then attempting what I think is his first time building a bed… or anything, for that matter.
“You’re enjoying this far too much, Mostriciattola .”
I smile, scooting a little closer to him. Simply being beside him, having him here, gives me a sense of relief I haven’t felt in quite some time. I don’t want to depend on him, but I submit to a moment of weakness as I lay my head on his shoulder.
“Thank you for being here,” I say, exhausted because I am. My mind ran over all the different ways this could play out in the future, and I came to the realization that it’s as destructive as thinking about the things I can’t change in the past.
“I’ll always be here for you,” he says softly, not making a move to touch or grab me. He simply lets me be and take what I need from him.
I don’t know what the future has in store, but I feel a little better having Dutton by my side, if even temporarily. But I promise myself to only enjoy this peace with him now because I’m certain at any moment, the rug is going to be pulled from beneath my feet, and I want to make sure there aren’t too many pieces to pick up.
Dutton might’ve been honest once about his inability to become a husband and father. But perhaps I’m in denial as to whether I’ll truly ever be able to open myself up enough at the prospect of another relationship. Because the only unconditional love I’ve known is the love I give my son and the love he gives me in return. Everyone else has hurt me in one way or another.