Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
CHRISTINE
I throw my head back with a shameless moan, then lick my lips for good measure. “This is the best veggie burger I’ve ever tasted.”
“Let me see.” Fletcher leans over and takes a bite out of the opposite side. “Mm.” He bobs his head as he swallows, and I swat him away.
“You have your own food!” I point to his pizza that he’s taken only a few bites of.
He smiles and takes one of my fries too.
I grab my plate to move to the other side of the bed, but he grabs my legs before I can get very far, drapes them across his lap, and pins them there.
“Careful.” He tilts my plate before the ketchup can run off and splatter all over my robe. The very nice, very expensive white robe I’d definitely have to pay for if I ruined it.
Some movie neither of us has been paying attention to plays on the TV in the background, and I eye the remaining plates on the tray by the foot of the bed. That chocolate cake looks divine. And the bottle of white wine with it? I could die. There’s also a handful of condoms beside it—who would’ve thought you could have those delivered?—as well as a credit card on top of a receipt.
I narrow my eyes. That is not my card. I’d gone to the bathroom to freshen up while he ordered, but I figured it would automatically get charged to the room. When did he…?
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
I turn back to him, and he’s watching me with his head leaning against the wall, the same ease in his expression firmly in place despite the abrupt subject change.
I shrug and pick at my fries. “Guess that depends on what it is.”
“Tell me about your family.”
I grimace internally, and my fingers still on my plate. Of all questions . Not that it’s not a perfectly normal thing to ask someone, but it feels like I just stepped into a minefield. “Not much to say, really.”
That’s not true, but it’s also not exactly a light conversation. And it’s not something I talk about.
But then again, no one’s ever really asked me.
No one who wanted the truthful answer.
The first person who comes to mind with the word family is Casey, but I’m not going to sit here and talk about my son with a one-night stand. Not that Fletcher doesn’t already know I have a kid, but knowing and talking about it while we’re still naked are two different things.
Silence falls between us, and when I glance at him, a small crease has formed between his eyebrows.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just want to know more about you.”
I give him a humorless smile. “It’s not…it’s just a lot.”
His eyes flick between mine. “Tell me anyway.”
I don’t know what makes me say it—maybe knowing this is only for one night lowers the stakes. Or maybe there’s something about him that makes this easier to say.
“Well, my parents met in high school. My mom got pregnant with me when she was seventeen, and they got married.” I roll a fry between my fingers until it turns to mush. “My dad took off before I turned one. We never heard from him again. My mom’s parents kicked her out when she found out she was pregnant, so then it was just me and her.”
The words come out hollow, unemotional. As if I’m talking about someone else. And in a lot of ways, that’s what it feels like. That part of my life, that version of me, sometimes I push her so far into the corners of my mind that I forget she’s lurking back there.
Fletcher takes a deep breath, and he lays his hand gently on my leg. He says nothing, but I have his full attention.
“We did okay…sometimes. DV shelters let us stay for a few months here and there. She managed to get an apartment for a few years. Sometimes we lived out of the car, on food stamps, you name it. Almost ended up in the system a few times—I honestly don’t know how I didn’t. Eventually, she started dating again, and when she realized we could move in with whatever guy she was seeing, that started to be the new normal.”
I don’t know why my heart is racing just talking about it, like I can feel the adrenaline flooding my veins. I take a deep breath and shake my head a little. There’s a lot that happened that I haven’t let myself think about in a long time.
Back into the corner. Just push it back into the corner.
Fletcher squeezes my knee.
“I left when I was sixteen.” I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth and shrug. “So that’s my sob story.”
There’s no pity in his eyes, just a softness. “Do you still talk to your mom?”
“Not since the day I left.”
He rubs his thumb back and forth on my leg.
“Which I know probably sounds awful?—”
“It doesn’t,” he says immediately.
“I have a lot of empathy for her. Especially now being a mom. But on the other hand…now being a mom…” I take a deep breath and shake my head. “There’s a lot I can’t forgive her for.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s hard knowing they did the best they could, but you also deserved better.”
That really is what it comes down to. And then the guilt that comes with thinking it wasn’t good enough even when they were trying their best.
I clear my throat. “Did you grow up around here?”
He presses his lips together and gives me a smile I don’t quite understand. It’s not sad, exactly. But it’s like I’m seeing a piece of myself reflected back.
“Uh, no. My biological parents were from PA.” His eyes flick from mine to his hands on my legs. “They both died of an overdose when I was two.”
I go still. “Were you—were you there?”
He nods once. “Not that I remember it, but yeah. They think it took at least twelve hours until someone called it in and the police found me.”
My stomach drops, and I cover my mouth with my hand without thinking. I can’t help it. I picture Casey at that age being alone for that long… seeing his parents like that, not being able to get them to respond…
“Ended up in the foster system. Bounced around about a dozen different families until I was thirteen.” He gives me a small smirk. “Also ran away from home—but with a few other kids. Ended up with a new family here about a year later. They’re great. They, uh, they actually legally adopted me when I was seventeen.” The tension in his face smooths out into a small smile, and he shrugs. “I consider them my parents. We’re still very close.”
“The home here—were there any other kids there with you?”
A strange shadow passes over his eyes, but then it’s gone just as quickly. “Just me. So that’s my sob story.”
“So what you’re saying is we’re both thoroughly fucked-up.”
He grins, wraps an arm around me, and pulls me closer. “Oh, definitely.”
I lean against his chest, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. It feels so natural, so normal.
So…not what a one-night stand should be.
“Hey, Chris?” says Fletcher, his voice light and carefree again.
“Hm?”
“I’m dying to break into that cake.”
“Oh, thank God.” I all but lunge for the plate.
I don’t know what time we go to sleep. Well after midnight. We make good use out of every last one of those condoms, and afterward, we just…talk. And laugh. And eat. And lie together and watch whatever comes up on the TV.
And it’s like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
I inhale sharply and startle awake.
“Sorry, sorry,” Fletcher whispers and smooths his hand over my hair.
I try to blink the blurriness out of my eyes, but the room is dark.
“What’s going on?—?”
“You can go back to sleep. I just have to get to work, and I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
Finally, his face swims into focus. “What…time is it?”
“About 4:30.”
I groan and bury my face in the pillow. “Do you…? I can drive you to your car…?”
He chuckles. “No, no. I’ve got it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s just a few blocks.” He runs his hand over my hair again as I peer up at him. He smiles softly. “I had a really, really nice time.”
I smile back. “Me too.”
He hesitates like he wants to say more, but in the end, he stands and collects his wallet and keys from the dresser.
I roll over and watch as he leaves, a knot tightening in my stomach.
But he pauses before opening the door and meets my eyes. “I know this was just for the night, but if you change your mind, you have my number. I just want to be clear from my end…the door’s open.”
I don’t know how to respond, and he doesn’t wait for me to.
But as the door closes behind him, I find myself smiling.