Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
“I loved New York but I missed the quiet of that little sleepy Texas town.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
The lobby was eerily quiet when we got back to the hotel.
Then again, it was a little after four in the morning.
The combination of alcohol and exhaustion made me half-stumble my way to the elevator, leaning on Abe for support.
Maybe I pressed my nose into his shirt and took a healthy whiff of the clean, spicy scent that always surrounded him.
Abe, being a gentleman and all, pretended I wasn’t copping a smell.
“You okay there, slugger?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s been one of the worst days of my life. I’m fine.”
In the elevator, I pawed around in my purse for my room key card. My cowboy hat slid off my head and tumbled to the ground. I resisted the urge to crush it with my foot. But hypothetically, if I had, I’d wrap it up and give it to the happy couple as a wedding present.
Gosh, that sounded like an amazing idea.
Abe picked up the hat and set it on my head. “That smile of yours is a little creepy.”
I tried to wipe said smile from my face. “Sorry. I was daydreaming. It was a good one.”
The elevator dumped us onto our floor and I stumbled out. Abe put his hand low on my back and guided me to my room. His was right across from mine but still, it was nice that he was making sure I got back safely.
Such a gentleman.
“Thanks,” he said. “My mom will be happy to hear it.”
“Huh?”
“You said the inside thought out loud again.”
At the door, I went back to digging through my purse for the key card.
“It has to be in here,” I muttered and then, because it seemed the best solution to my problem, I dumped the contents of the purse out on the hallway floor and dropped to my knees to sort through it.
In hindsight, not my finest idea. Chapstick, two pieces of chocolate, my wallet, three random receipts and, right there…
“Here it is.” I held it up in triumph. To celebrate, I grabbed a piece of the chocolate, unwrapped it, and stuffed it in my mouth.
“Let’s use our inside voice. It’s four thirty in the morning.” Abe knelt beside me and started to put everything back in my purse.
“Oh, sorry.” Still on my knees, I stuck the card in the reader. It worked on the first try—a Christmas miracle. I turned the handle and fell into the room on my back with a very unladylike umphf. Also, not one of my best ideas.
Momentarily stunned, I stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before I started to giggle. The giggle turned to laughter. I laughed and laughed, the hysterical kind that wasn’t about anything funny at all. At some point, the laughter turned into sobs.
“Iris,” Abe said, his voice ever-so soft. Like he was talking to a small, lost child. And in that moment, I kind of felt like one.
After he helped me sit up, he cradled my face and used his thumbs to wipe away my tears. I swallowed another fresh wave of emotion.
“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked.
His eyes moved back and forth between mine, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
“Because there’s something wrong with me,” I whispered. “Nobody sticks around. Not my father or Grammie or Aidan. Mae’s leaving me now.”
“Sweetheart.” His eyes, his voice, his touch were so gentle that it made my heart ache.
No one treated me like that. I was Iris Sampson.
I was tough. I could handle myself. But on the inside, the part I didn’t let anyone see, I was soft and vulnerable and so, so alone.
So why was I letting Abe see this side of me?
I didn’t know exactly except that it felt right. I was safe with him.
“There’s not a single thing wrong with you.”
I hiccupped, my nose stinging as I held back more tears. “Are you sure?”
“Which one of us is the liar?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
I made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Me.”
“So, you know I’m telling you the truth. Okay?”
“Okay.” He leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to my forehead. I let out a shuddering breath. “Let’s get you into bed.”
He helped me stand up. Once in the room, he sent me to get ready for bed. Dutifully, I did what he asked. When I came out of the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, most of the lights had been turned off, the curtains closed, and the blankets turned down on my bed.
He’d placed a glass of water and two pills on the nightstand beside the bed. “When you wake up in the morning. Something to help with that monster headache you’re going to have.” He patted a pillow. “Now, into bed.”
“You didn’t have to do any of this.”
“I know. Come on.”
I slid into bed and he pulled the covers up to my neck. He actually tucked me into bed. Why was I finding this all so… sweet?
“Get some sleep, okay? It’s been a rough night.”
“Okay.” I clutched the edge of the blankets.
“I’ll see you tomorrow… or I guess in a few hours.”
He took a couple of shuffling steps backwards and a weird sort of panic gripped me. I didn’t want him to leave. Or maybe I just didn’t want to be alone. That must be it.
“Abe, could you, I mean… well, I don’t want to be… Could you stay for a little while, just until I fall asleep?” I patted the empty space on the bed.
He hesitated before nodding. “Alright.”
“Thank you.”
He rounded the bed and stretched out on it on top of the covers.
I snapped off the lamp and darkness bathed the room.
Neither of us said much of anything for a while but I was acutely aware of him and the foot or so separating us on that king-sized bed.
The rustling as he shifted. The clean, spicy scent of him.
Each of his breaths, in and out, steady.
That word fit him so well—steady. He was a guy a person could count on to stick around.
“You asleep?” he whispered.
“No.” I turned to face him, although he was nothing more than a shadowy lump.
“What’s going on in that brain of yours?”
“Nothing.”
He snorted. “That might be the biggest lie you’ve ever told me.”
“I’m not lying.” I was.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me.”
I wasn’t going to tell him but once again, the words came out of my mouth without permission. “What’s the thing you’re most afraid of?”
I heard him huff. “That’s a pretty deep question for five in the morning.
” He paused for so long, I thought he might have changed his mind.
When he did speak, his voice was so soft that I inched closer to hear him.
“I guess it’s that my dad and I won’t ever be able to talk to each other, that he’ll always be looking for me to disappoint him and that no matter how hard I try, I’m never going to measure up. ”
The sadness in his voice tugged at my heart. “You do measure up. You have to know that.”
“I guess just once I’d like to hear my dad say that.” He cleared his throat. “Your turn.”
I thought about lying again. But something about the dark, quiet room where only Abe could hear me caused my mouth to open.
“I don’t want to be alone but I’m scared to… to give a part of me away. It hurts too much when they leave.” I yawned, feeling the exhaustion start to pull me under. My eyes closed. My words were more mumble than anything else. “I just want someone to love me enough to stay.”
Abe made a small sound, an acknowledgment, I guess.
The bed shifted as he turned on his side.
A sliver of light shone through the crack in the curtains, hardly bright enough to be called light.
The beam fell across Abe’s face so that I could barely make out his features but it was a comfort to know he was there.
A featherlight touch skimmed my cheek and brushed my hair from my face. His hand found my shoulder and trailed lightly down my arm to stop at my hand resting on the bed between us. He curled his fingers around it and held on. He didn’t let go and I didn’t want him to.
As the blurry edges of sleep pulled me under, I swore I heard him say, “You aren’t alone. I’m right here.”