Page 31 of Revived

“I feel like you’re becoming extremely predictable,” I tease her as I take a seat next to her, not too close, but close enough that her body spray hits my nose again. “Every night when I put him to sleep, I know this is the image I can expect to see when I make my way back down the hall. Except for the nights you work at Tony’s, that is.”

“Me? Predictable? This coming from the guy that literally does the same thing every day and finds contentment in that? I bet I could recite your entire routine to you right now and get a perfect score.”

“Hey. I thought we agreed I’m learning to have fun? Aren’t we going to the aquarium tomorrow?”

She huffs and then takes a sip from her glass. “That’s not the fun I was talking about, Luke. That involves Grayson again,” she says as she bops me on the nose. And before I realize what I’m doing, I react, reaching out and grabbing her wrist before she moves it away.

“What… what are you doing?” She whispers, her eyes alive with uncertainty, her body tense, her breaths short and loud. I wonder if she can hear my heart pounding in my chest right now, the rush of adrenaline coursing through me as our eyes lock and the thud of my heart shakes my entire body.

“I can be fun. Spontaneous even,” I growl in a tone low and deep so she can sense how serious I am. I can’t help it. I want her. She’s tempting me even more with each passing day and I know so many things could go wrong, but the reward of her lips touching mine is something I’m starting to crave.

“How so? Show me,” she challenges, the fierce tone in her voice so apparent, it makes my pants grow tighter in the crotch.

Our eyes bounce back and forth, reading each other, waiting for someone to make a move. And when I finally feel the push and start to close the distance, the sound of a door opening makes me freeze and instantly drop Rachel’s wrist from my hand.

“Daddy?” Grayson mumbles as I turn to face him, rubbing his eye with one hand as if he’d actually fallen asleep in the few short minutes that had passed since I tucked him in.

“Yeah, bud?” I manage to say as I feel Rachel move on the couch behind me, the thumping of my heart pounding so violently I feel like the couch is shaking.

Grayson stands there, assessing the situation, noticing us sitting together on the couch, his eyes moving back and forth between Rachel’s face and my own. Finally, after what seems like ages, he speaks.

“What does a fart look like?”

I hear Rachel snort behind me as I break out in laughter. “What?”

“What does a fart look like, Daddy?” His head tilts to the side, showcasing that inquisitive nature of my son that I appreciate more with each passing day.

Rachel’s laugh grows louder as I feel her stand from the couch. “That’s a great question, honey. Why don’t we look that up in the morning, okay?” She smiles, fighting off another fit of laughter as I remain in my same spot, baffled by the way my son’s mind works.

“Okay. Goodnight, Daddy,” Grayson calls to me as Rachel takes him back to his room and I stare at the TV, ruminating over the fact that I almost kissed Rachel and my son interrupted us.

“Goodnight, Grayson,” I call out after them, not moving an inch from where I stare off into space. In the name of looking for signs, I’d say that was a loud one. Kissing Rachel would alter everything about our arrangement, and I just don’t know enough about what she’s feeling to go there. I mean, she seemed like she was waiting for me to move closer, the way her body became rigid could have been a response of anticipation—or it could have been her bracing herself for something she didn’t want.

“Fuck,” I mutter, standing from the couch and making my way back to my room, resolving to avoid the awkward moment when she returned to the living room and we’d have to acknowledge what just almost happened. I know it’s the coward’s way out, but at least I can pretend everything is fine in the morning and go back to normal, and not risk having a conversation that could only make things worse. I change into some flannel pants, leaving my torso bare as I lie down in bed and stare at the ceiling, one hand poised behind my head, contemplating how much has changed in the last two months.

I made it my goal when Hannah died to create a life that would be predictable, free of the possibilities of something else upending it and turning it upside down yet again.

But then I changed my career, my mom got hurt, and I hired a nanny—a woman who has opened up a part of me I shut tight when I lost my wife. It’s like the gates inside my chest that house that part of my soul are being shaken and slowly opened, revealing a light through the crack that is making things bright and visible for the first time in years. It’s terrifying but enlivening. And yet, I don’t know what waits on the other side of those gates. And until I do, I know I need to keep that crack from getting bigger.

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