Page 27 of Silver Lining Love

I swallowed over the lump in my throat and tried to ignore the word that I was thinking. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” As soon as she asked the question, the baby monitor lit up from Benji’s cries.

Her eyes closed in the way that I’d only ever seen my mom’s eyes close when someone woke up one of my brothers or my sister when they were babies.

“You take care of Benji, I’ve got the toilet.”

She sighed as her heavy lids lifted. “Thank you.”

I watched her walk back toward the master bedroom, and I tried to rationalize what I was feeling. I’d always lived my life based on logic and rational thinking. When I analyzed situations, I detached from them to try and see things as unbiasedly as possible. Feelings were unreliable. Emotions were fleeting. Logic and rationality were steadfast.

I’d been in relationships before, serious relationships. I’d loved the women I’d been with. But I’d never felt what I was feeling for Whitney. I’d never felt anything close to the connection, the bond, that I felt toward her. And I sure as hell never imagined them walking down the aisle toward me.

That was the main reason the relationships had never worked out. They wanted me to feel things that I didn’t feel. They wanted the relationship to progress to a place it couldn’t.

So what was different about this? What was different about my feelings for Whitney?

Although Whitney had been the one who had experienced a traumatic event, I’d been by her side through it all. I’d heard that trauma can bond people together. Maybe that’s what I was feeling. We’d been in the trenches together with the kids these past few months and it had created a sense of family.

Was that why I was picturing her walking down the aisle toward me when I’d never even wanted to be married?

Was that why I didn’t want to leave, even for a few days without her and the kids?

Was that why I’d kissed her twice now?

I didn’t have answers to any of those questions, but I did know that there was a toilet that needed to be taken care of before I left. There was only one bathroom in this house, and an out-of-order commode was not an option.

After resolving the plumbing situation, I walked down the hall and found Whitney rocking Benji back to sleep, singing softly to him. She was sitting in the corner of her room, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. I stood staring at her and listening to her angelic voice, and I wondered if her song selection had anything to do with what had just transpired between us.

Tonight the “lullaby” she’d chosen was “Kiss The Girl” fromThe Little Mermaidsoundtrack. I loved that she never sang traditional songs to Benji. There was no “Hush Little Baby” or “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” in her repertoire. She had very eclectic taste in music and Benji was the lucky recipient of that. I’d heard her sing “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot, “Iko Iko” by Captain Jack, “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles, and even “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC to him.

As I stood watching her, listening to her, my heart expanded in my chest. I’d heard other people claim that happened, but that’s truly what it felt like was happening to me. My chest ached from the pressure.

I’d been here most nights since the accident, but this was the first night I did not want to leave. I wanted to stay. I felt like this was where I needed to be.

The floorboard creaked beneath my feet, causing her to glance up.

I lifted my hand to say goodbye. She smiled at me, and the same feeling in my chest that had happened when I’d looked down at her after kissing her filled my chest again. This time, it was once again accompanied by a single pronoun that she’d also inspired.

Mine.

But she wasn’t.

I knew that she’d been interested in me before the accident. Before her life had changed in the blink of an eye. But I’d always known that what she felt for me was a crush. She’d been attracted to me and dropped quite a few not-so-subtle hints that she wanted to act on them, but nothing more than that. It’s not like she’d ever shown any interest in something real. She’d never shown any signs of jealousy when I’d been in relationships, and she’d dated quite a few guys, and had several boyfriends in the time I’d known her.

She was attracted to me. Attraction wasn’t what I was feeling. Or I should say it wasn’tallI was feeling. What I was feeling was much deeper, much stronger, much more than attraction.

And my analytical, rational brain had no fucking clue what to do about it.

11

WHITNEY

“Overthinking is like sitting in a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.” ~ Gamma Mary

A yawn overtookme as I stared at the coffee pot, willing it to fill up faster as it dripped with the speed of a turtle in a foot race. I’d barely slept at all last night and it had nothing to do with Benji’s teething. He’d gone down right after Wyatt left and stayed blissfully asleep until six this morning.

No, the reason my eyelids felt like they’d been dipped in cement this morning was because of my sexy neighbor. More specifically, thekissI’d shared with the aforementioned sexy neighbor.

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