7. The Space Between Us #4
She hesitated just enough to acknowledge the compliment without accepting it fully, “It’s coming together.”
A breeze passed between them, lifting a strand of hair near her temple. He reached up instinctively, then stopped himself.
“I know what we said the other day in the closet,” he began, his voice lower now, less performative and more intentional. “About the fear of starting something new so soon.vHow the timing of this isn’t ideal.” Trevor noticed Aniyah’s fingers tightened around her keys.
“Yes,” She responded lightly.
“I thought about it,” he continued. “And I realized we let the worst-case scenario make the decision for us.”
Her eyes met his.
“I’m not asking you to leap, I know my situation is a lot to handle. I’m not asking you to ignore any of that,” he said. “I’m asking you to let me take you to dinner on Saturday.”
The look of surprise that lit up Aniyah’s face would’ve made Trevor laugh if he wasn’t so damn nervous. He hadn’t asked anyone on a date in ages and this one was on he desperately wanted her to say yes to.
“What happens if I say yes, we go out, and if I don’t like who you are right now,” she asked carefully.
“Then I step back,” he replied. “I will respect your boundaries and you would never have to worry about me pushing up on you again.”
He stepped closer then, slowly enough that she could move away if she chose to, but she didn’t.
His hand lifted deliberately, brushing along her forearm, up to her shoulder, and resting at the side of her neck.
He felt the warmth of her skin pulse beneath his fingers.
Her breath shifted. Her pupils widened, the reaction immediate and involuntary.
Trevor felt a rush of heat come over him seeing Aniyah’s reaction to his closeness.
“But we both know,” he murmured, his voice grazing the little space between them, “you’re going to like who I am now.”
Her lips parted slightly in anticipation of feeling his pressed against them again. He leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. It was restrained and comforting at the same time. A promise rather than a claim.
When he pulled back, the tension did not dissipate. If anything, he wanted to open her back door and make love until her voice went hoarse from screaming his name loudly, repeatedly. However, this was not the time and damn sure not the place. He thought for a second to will his erection down.
“Give me your phone,” he said softly. She handed it to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion that did not mask her desire. He entered his number and returned it.
“Text me when you get home, Roxanne”
A faint smirk curved her mouth. “You think you’re smooth.”
“I know I am.”
She shook her head lightly. “And why did you call me Roxanne?”
He smiled slowly. “From A Goofy Movie. You remind me of her. Always have because you have the same color hair and beauty mark.”
Her face lit up despite herself. “I used to love Roxanne. I think I snuck and dressed up as her for Halloween one year in high school.” He could tell Aniyah’s mind drifted to the memory.
“I remember. It was Junior year. I saw you that morning at the lockers. I never wanted to be Max so badly in my life.” he said, and he meant it.
Color rose to her cheeks, he loved her like this.
“Trevor! You are lying.”
“I’m not, but we can talk more about that on our date,” he said with a smug smile backing away from her.
Aniyah playfully rolled her eyes in response.
“Goodnight, Trevor.”
“Goodnight.”
He waited until she pulled away before turning back to his car.
Trevor drove home slower than usual. Zara slept the entire way, her small snores barely audible over the hum of the engine.
At a red light he glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her curls framed her face without worry.
Therapy had not fixed everything in an hour, but it had loosened something inside them.
When they made it home, he carried her inside without waking her fully. He changed her into her pajamas, easing her into bed and tucking the blanket around her shoulders with a care that bordered on ritual.
“I floated good,” she murmured again, half in dream. Trevor had a feeling floating was going to stick with Zara for a while.
“You did,” he whispered back, brushing his lips against her forehead.
When he stepped into the hallway, the house felt different than it had a month ago. It no longer echoed. It breathed.
He moved through the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and leaned against the counter for a moment, replaying the evening in quiet fragments. The red sweater. The way she waited beside her car. The look in her eyes when he called her Roxanne.
His phone buzzed against the counter with a text from an unsaved number.
Made it home.
He knew exactly who it was without her giving a name.
The fact that she deliberately sent that plain text amused Trevor.
A slow smile spread across his face. He opened the message to save her number, typed her name in, then paused.Instead of Aniyah Henderson, he saved it as: Roxanne.
He stared at her text message for a second longer than necessary before typing back.
Thank you for following directions. I appreciate a woman who listens.
He hit send and waited. Three dots appeared almost immediately. Then a single response came through.
He laughed out loud, the sound filling the kitchen in a way it had not in weeks.
Yeah, we’re going to get along just fine , he typed but didn’t send it. He decided to let her have the last word tonight.
He set his phone down and walked toward his bedroom.
The mattress had been replaced the week after the divorce was finalized. He had not realized how much history could cling to something as ordinary as a bed until he removed it from the house entirely. The new one felt firmer. Neutral. Untouched by memory.
He stood at the edge of it for a moment, remembering how many nights he had chosen the couch instead, convincing himself he preferred it there.
Tonight he did not hesitate. He pulled back the covers and lay down, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning onto his side.
The sheets were cool. The room was quiet.
For the first time since Katelyn walked out of his life, the bed did not feel like a reminder of failure.
It felt like space.
His phone lit up once more on the nightstand. He reached for it, already smiling expecting it to be Aniyah. But it was only a weather alert. He set the phone back down on his nightstand, amused at himself.
When he closed his eyes, he did not see flashes of old memories.
He did not hear regret. He did not replay what had been lost. He saw a red sweater in soft stage lighting clinging to the most delectable body.
He heard a little girl declaring herself the Ghost of Christmas Past. He felt warmth where fear had been.
That night Trevor fell asleep in his own bed without running from anything.