Page 64 of On Your Knees

Chapter 32

Evangelina

As I watch Nate clear his dinner plate and set it carefully on the kitchen counter, a warmth swells in my chest. His little legs shuffle back and forth with such determination, and I can’t help but smile at the sight.

"Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" I say, my voice soft but full of meaning.

He turns to me, his face lighting up with pure happiness. "No, what's proud?"

I cross the room, bending down on my haunches so I’m eye-level with him. I want him to really understand this, to feel it. "It means that you did something that makes me so happy. A kind of happy that you feel right here." I gently touch his small chest, my fingers resting where his heart beats steadily. "A kind of happy that warms up your heart."

He blinks, his brow furrowing as he tries to process my words. "I did something to make you happy like that?"

I laugh softly, touched by the innocence in his voice. "Yes, sweetheart. You cleared your dinner plate without me even having to ask. That makes me so proud of you."

His little face scrunches in thought, and then his next words break my heart a little. "Well, at Daddy’s place they get mad at me if I don’t clear my plate. But they don’t smile when I do."

The happiness in my chest dims for a moment, replaced with an ache I can’t quite describe. I pull him into a hug, his small body pressing against mine as I hold him close. I kiss the top of his head and rub his back, wanting him to feel the love and comfort in this moment, even if words can’t explain it all.

"Well, here, I’m always going to smile when you do things that make me proud. And it’s not just about clearing your plate, okay? It’s about being the sweet, thoughtful boy that you are." I pull back slightly, meeting his big, earnest eyes. "I love you so much, Nate. Always."

His arms wrap around my neck, hugging me tightly, and for a brief moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Now let's get you ready for bed," I say with a warm smile, gently brushing a lock of hair away from Nate's forehead. He nods, yawning, and together we go through our familiar bedtime routine. I help him into the bath, the water splashing lightly as he plays with his favorite toys, his laughter bubbling up in the small bathroom. Afterward, we brush his teeth, his little hands clumsily guiding the toothbrush while I help him.

"You're doing great," I say, and he grins through a mouthful of bubbles.

Once he's all clean and snug in his pajamas, I tuck him into bed with his favorite storybook. He insists on hearing the same tale every time he’s here, and I don’t mind. There's something comforting in the repetition, the way his eyes grow heavy with each familiar word. By the time I reach the final page, his breathing has deepened, his little chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. I gently kiss his forehead, smoothing the covers around him, my heart full of love.

I tiptoe out of his room, leaving the door cracked just enough to let a sliver of light from his nightlight seep into the hallway. As I make my way to the kitchen, the silence of the apartment feels heavier. I tidy up the dishes, wiping down the counters, but my mind is far away. I love having Nate here—his laughter, his energy. The apartment feels alive when he’s with me. I wish I could always have him here, full-time, where he belongs.

But then there's that ache again. The one that comes when he has to leave, when I hand him back to Christopher, wondering what kind of life he’s leading at his father’s house.

I’m lost in thought when a light knock at the door snaps me back to the present. My body tenses, a wave of unease rippling through me. My first thought, as always, is Christopher. What if he’s here, lurking outside my door? He wouldn’t hurt me with Nate in the apartment, would he?

My heart races as I move cautiously toward the door, standing just on the other side. My fingers hover over the handle, wishing desperately for a peephole. "Who’s there?" I call out, trying to keep my voice steady, though the nerves slip through.

"It’s Benedict." His familiar voice instantly washes away the tension.

Relief floods through me, and I quickly unlock the door, opening it wide. Benedict stands there, his presence a welcome sight, his expression calm but concerned.

"I just came to check on the two of you," he says, his voice soft as he steps inside.

I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my face. "Come in," I say, shutting the door behind him, my heart settling for the first time in what feels like hours.

He wraps me into a hug, his strong arms pulling me close, and my body nearly sags into him. It's like everything inside me, all the worry and tension, melts away the moment I’m pressed against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, and it grounds me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, his voice low, vibrating through his chest. His body feels like home—warm and solid. Relief.

I close my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him, something earthy and comforting. I don’t want to let go. We stand there for what feels like an eternity, just holding each other, both of us finding comfort in the other's presence. For a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just us.

“I missed you too,” I finally say, my voice softer than I intended, but it’s the truth. Being here with him, feeling the strength of his arms around me, makes me realize how much I crave this, how much I’ve been holding it all together for Nate’s sake. But right now, I don’t want to be strong. I just want him.

Benedict pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on my shoulders, his gaze meeting mine. There’s something in his eyes, a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “I won’t stay long. I know you’ve got Nate here,” he says, though his voice betrays areluctance to leave. “But I just wanted to come by, make sure everything was okay.”

A small smile tugs at my lips as I look up at him. He’s always so thoughtful, always checking in, making sure I’m okay—even when I try to convince myself I don’t need anyone. “He’s sleeping,” I say, glancing toward Nate’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling into the hallway. “Do you want a drink?” I offer, not ready for him to leave just yet.

He hesitates for a second, his eyes scanning my face as if weighing his options. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens slightly, the way his hand lingers on my arm. He wants to stay. And I want him to.

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