Page 31 of Tutored By the Smart Girl

Our lovemaking is slow and intentional— focused on each other’s pleasure. We slip over the edge together and he growls with pleasure. He disposes of the condom and hops back ontothe bed. He throws the quilt over the top of us and snuggles into me.

“How’s your day now?” he teases.

I kiss his chest. “Better. Much better.”

We lay in comfortable silence as Rush traces circles on my back with his fingertips.

“Tell me aboutThe Velveteen Rabbit.” His voice is practically a whisper.

I pull away from him and look into his eyes. “What?”

“A few weeks ago… you started to tell me about your favorite book…The Velveteen Rabbitand then you looked like you were about ready to cry.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Why?”

“It’s probably silly.” I snuggle back into his side.

“No,” he kisses the top of my head, “I’m sure it’s not.”

I take a deep breath. I’ve never shared this story with anyone. “I had to have a second heart surgery when I was thirteen. I told you that.”

“Yes.”

“Before my surgery, my mom gave meThe Velveteen Rabbit.”

“Nice.”

“It wasn’t just any copy. She searched high and low. She called around, went to bookstores, and she found one of the original hardback versions. It was one of my favorite stories growing up and she wanted me to have the beautiful hardback version.”

Rush holds me closer.

“The cool thing about it was she found it in this old bookstore about an hour away from us. You know how when you go into an old bookstore, and it has that wonderful aroma of books?” Iturn to face Rush. “And when you smell the book, you can tell it’s been well used and treasured. That’s the way this book was.”

“I can see how that would bring tears to your eyes. Your mom sounds very thoughtful.”

I sigh. “That’s not what made me cry. Yes, it was thoughtful, and yes, I love my mom very much. I cried because the book was lost.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

His voice is low. “I’m not going anywhere.” Rush runs his fingers gently through my hair.

“My parents divorced when I was ten. They had shared custody and one weekend I brought the book to my dad’s apartment. I ended up accidentally leaving it there. Apparently, he packed up a box of items for donation and my book got put into that box.”

“Oh no. You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were. Mom and I searched the donation centers, but we never found my book.”

“And you never got a new one?”

“Well, I have the paperback copy I grew up with but no. I never tried to replace that hardback.”

“I bet your dad felt awful.”

I grunt. “Not really.” The tears threaten to fall. “Let’s just say he hasn’t been the most reliable dad. He’s missed a lot of important things because he’s always put work above everything else. I’m not close to him now. We’ve never had a close relationship— even though that’s something I’ve always wanted.”

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