7. Kim #2
I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. I reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped me.
"I'm too tired to drive back to Manhattan." He said it quietly. Honestly. "I've been up since five yesterday morning. I'll fall asleep at the wheel."
I should tell him to call a cab. Should send him on his way. Should maintain the boundaries I'd insisted on.
Instead, I heard myself say, "You can sleep on my couch."
His eyes widened slightly. "You sure?"
No. I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure about anything anymore. I thought about Zoe. It was Friday night, anyway. Dani always turned in early on Friday nights. Besides, I didn’t want my daughter here while Xavier spent the night.
Not that I wanted to get him alone or anything.
"Just for tonight," I said. "And you're gone first thing in the morning."
"Deal."
We walked up the stairs in silence. The building was quiet, everyone asleep, the hallway dim and empty. I unlocked my apartment and led him inside.
Xavier looked around, taking in the small space. The secondhand furniture. Zoe's toys were scattered in the corner. The drawings were taped to the refrigerator.
"It's not much," I said, suddenly self-conscious. I grabbed a blanket and pillow from the closet and set them on the couch. "Bathroom's down the hall if you need it."
"Thanks." He hesitated. "I don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?"
I did, actually. A two-pack I'd bought on sale, still unopened. I retrieved it from the bathroom cabinet and handed it over, along with a towel.
"There's soap and shampoo in the shower if you want to..." I trailed off, suddenly very aware of what I was offering. Xavier Dubois, showering in my bathroom, naked in my apartment, with water running over his skin while I sat on the other side of the wall.
"Thanks," he said again. His eyes met mine, and something flickered there. Awareness, maybe. Of the strangeness of this situation. Of the intimacy we were pretending didn't exist.
"Goodnight," I said quickly, and retreated to my bedroom before I could do something stupid.
I closed the door and leaned against it, heart pounding.
A few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door close, the water turn on.
Oh God. He was naked in my bathroom.
I pressed my palms against my eyes. This was fine. This was totally fine. He was just using the shower. Like a normal person. In my apartment. Where I also lived.
The water ran for what felt like forever. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying very hard not to imagine what was happening on the other side of that wall. The steam. The soap. The water running down his chest, his stomach, lower…
I grabbed my pillow and pressed it over my face.
This was going to be a long night.
I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I woke to sunlight streaming through my curtains and the smell of something cooking. I lay there for a moment, confused. Zoe was at Dani's. I hadn't made breakfast. Which meant…
I scrambled out of bed and down the hall.
Xavier was standing at my stove, wearing yesterday's clothes, slightly rumpled now. He was flipping something in a pan, humming softly to himself.
And sitting at my kitchen table, still in her pajamas, was Zoe.
"Mommy!" She spotted me in the doorway. "Mr. Xavier is making pancakes!"
I stared. "How did you—when did—"
"Dani brought her over about an hour ago," Xavier said, not turning from the stove. "She had a doctor's appointment for Joey. I told her I'd watch Zoe until you woke up."
"He put chocolate chips in them," Zoe added, as if this was the most important information. "And he made a Mickey Mouse one!"
I looked at my daughter, her face bright with joy. At Xavier, comfortable in my kitchen like he belonged there. At the stack of pancakes on the counter, one of them was shaped, somewhat lopsidedly, like Mickey Mouse.
"I hope that's okay," Xavier said. He glanced over his shoulder at me, uncertain now. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked like you needed the sleep."
I didn't know what to say. A man had never made breakfast for me. Not once. Not Cole, not anyone. The simple domesticity of it, the care implied in the gesture, made something ache in my chest.
"It's..." I swallowed. "Thank you."
He smiled. I stood in the doorway and watched them for a moment longer. Zoe was showing Xavier her elephant, explaining its name and backstory. Xavier listened intently, asking questions, treating her imaginary world as if it were as real and important as anything else.
This was what it could have been like. If I'd chosen differently. If Zoe's father had been a man like this—present, engaged, actually interested in his child. If someone had stayed instead of leaving.
Xavier wouldn't have abandoned us. I knew that with sudden, surprising certainty. He might be careless with his own life, but he wouldn't be careless with a child's heart.
"Mommy, come sit down!" Zoe patted the chair next to her. "The pancakes are almost ready!"
I crossed to the table and sat. Xavier set a plate in front of me—two perfect pancakes, golden brown, chocolate chips arranged into a smiley face.
"Bon appétit," he said with a little flourish.
Zoe giggled. I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
We ate together, the three of us crowded around my tiny kitchen table. Zoe chattered about her dreams, her toys, and her plans for the day. Xavier listened to every word, asked follow-up questions, and laughed at her jokes.
When we'd finished, Xavier leaned back in his chair. "I have an idea. How do you feel about flying a kite?"
Zoe's eyes went wide. "A kite? A real kite?"
"Yep. We could go to the park, have a picnic." He glanced at me. "If your mom says it's okay."
Two pairs of eyes turned to me. Zoe's hopeful, Xavier's uncertain.
I should say no. He'd already spent the night. Playing house with him meant involving Zoe. When this was over, how would she cope?
But Zoe was looking at me with that expression—the one that made me want to give her the world.
"Okay," I said. "Let's fly a kite."
The park was crowded with families enjoying the unexpected warmth of a late February afternoon. Kids ran across the grass, dogs chased frisbees, and couples walked hand in hand along the winding paths.
We arrived to find someone already waiting for us near the entrance—a woman in a crisp uniform, holding a large basket.
"Mr. Dubois." She handed over the basket with a smile. "Everything you requested."
"Thanks, Maria."
Xavier took the basket and led us toward a quiet spot beneath a large oak tree.
Inside, I found sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, fresh fruit, an assortment of cheeses and crackers, and little pastries that made Zoe squeal with delight.
There was a soft blanket, the kind that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
And a kite, bright red with a long tail.
"You planned this," I said as we spread the blanket on the grass.
"I made a phone call." He shrugged like it was nothing. "I know people."
"Of course you do."
Zoe was already tearing into the kite packaging. "Can we fly it now? Please, please, please?"
"Let me figure out how it works first." Xavier took the kite from her, studying the instructions with a frown. "This can't be that hard."
It was that hard.
I sat on the blanket and watched as Xavier attempted to get the kite airborne. He ran across the grass, string trailing behind him, while Zoe shouted instructions that may or may not have been accurate.
The kite rose three feet, then nosedived into the ground.
"Try again!" Zoe yelled.
He tried again. This time, the kite made it maybe six feet before crashing.
"You have to run faster!"
He ran faster. The kite did a loop, tangled itself around a bush, and required two minutes of careful extraction.
"I think the wind is wrong," Xavier said, slightly out of breath.
"The wind is fine." Zoe had her hands on her hips, looking like a tiny drill sergeant. "You're doing it wrong!"
I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile.
Xavier tried again. And again. On the fifth attempt, the string somehow wrapped around his legs, his arms, and his torso, leaving him standing in the middle of the grass like a very confused mummy.
Zoe collapsed into giggles. The sound rang out across the park, bright and joyful.
"You look so silly!" She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"This kite is defective." Xavier struggled against his string prison. "This is clearly a manufacturing issue."
"It's not the kite!" Zoe gasped between giggles. "You're just bad at it!"
"I am not bad at it. I'm experiencing technical difficulties."
Zoe turned to me, tears of laughter streaming down her face. "Mommy! Tell him he's doing it wrong!"
I looked at Xavier, wrapped in kite string, dignity in tatters, and the laugh escaped before I could stop it.
"You're doing it wrong," I said.
Xavier clutched his chest—or tried to, but his arms were tangled. "Betrayal. From my own girlfriend."
I glanced at Zoe, hoping she hadn’t heard that. She was safely distracted by the failing kite. "Fake girlfriend," I corrected.
"The betrayal stands."
Zoe dissolved into fresh giggles. I stood up and helped Xavier untangle himself, my fingers brushing his as I worked the string free. He was warm, solid, and entirely too close.
"Let me try," I said, taking the kite.
On my first attempt, it soared.