“No, I’m bonding with it. Trying to get a feel for what it should be named. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. If it was mine, I probably would have named it Elephant.”
“Not very creative.”
I shrug my shoulders as I open the truck door so she can put the elephant in the back. She seat belts it into its seat and I shake my head in genuine affection before opening her door. As she steps up, she gives me a kiss. I’ll never get tired of her quick little kisses.
“That was a fun date,” she tells me. She shifts in her seat for a moment with a pretty blush staining her cheeks. “Will you take me home with you?”
The question is shy, but I immediately have to adjust my pants, immediately going to half staff.
“Hell, yeah,” I say, giving her another kiss, and then closing her door. I hustle to my side, eager to get back to my place.
We drive the forty minutes back to my place in companionable silence. Anya looks out the window as my hand rests on her thigh. The casual intimacy of the gesture, and the fact she’s letting me touch her in such a way, makes my eyes go misty.
I didn’t realize how much I missed this. Hugging someone. Kissing them.
Touching.
But it’s not just the physical things. It’s everything. Mundane things. Even picking what’s for dinner can be better with a partner.
There is a freedom in not having to check in with someone and being able to do anything you’d like whenever you want. But having someone care enough to wait up for you after a long day? To hold you through sadness? Stand beside you in your triumph? Someone who lets you be a witness to all the joy and pain in their life?
That’s love.
And I realize I’ve missed having love in my life. Loving my friends and family and letting them love me. I’ve carried the burden of being alone for so long, not wanting to drag someone down with the weight of me around their neck. But I didn’t give them what they needed, either.
In taking away their opportunity to be close to me, I took away their chance to fully love me and for me to fully love them.
And maybe we were lesser people for the loss.
The lessons Sharon has been drilling into my head week after week are starting to click. That just because Brittany left, doesn’t mean I’m unloveable or undeserving of love. Her choices didn’t determine my worth.
I squeeze Anya’s thigh. Her beautiful eyes find mine in the dim lighting.
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” I tell her. She grasps my hand, holding it, without removing it from her leg.
“I’m glad you asked me to be.”
We pull into my driveway and I park the truck, turning off the engine. “Let me get your door,” I say, getting out and trotting around.
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my bicep as she gets out.
“Would you like anything to drink?” I ask, unlocking my door.
A car door opens and shuts out on the street, but right as I’m about to close my front door, I hear my name.
“Parker,” the voice says, and my head snaps up, disbelief waring with shock inside me. “It’s been a long time.”
“Brittany.” I pull the door open wider. “What are you doing here?”
She walks up the drive. Her hair is longer than I remember and as she gets closer, I can see the barest signs of age on her face. She lost the last visages of childhood but I still see the girl I married there.
“I’m here to see you. I was hoping we could talk.”
I look back inside my house and there stands Anastasia, waiting for me. I turn back to my ex-wife.
“About what?” I demand.