Page 50 of To Save Him

Even now.  I’d planned to sleep a few more minutes and wound up thinking enough that I stayed awake.

I knew I might as well get up at that point and get started on the day.  No, there wouldn’t be time for a walk this morning, but I could maybe do it later in the afternoon.  And I realized something as I stood up from the bed, searching for a robe—I was switching around my damned schedule and not feeling anxious about it.  That schedule had been my lifeline for so long that, until this point, I hadn’t been able to imagine functioning without it.

I turned to look at Brandon again and emotions flowed from me toward him.  I was filled with gratitude for all he’d done for me to this point, all he was going to do, all he’d promised.  I felt alive again, alive at the most basic level, from the tiny hairs standing up on my forearms to the overwhelming sense of joy some strange brain chemicals were flooding into my body.

I started to put the robe on and then I heard his voice.  “Wait a second.”  I could still feel his presence between my legs, between the stickiness and soreness, and I was hoping to grab a quick shower before the kids got up…but there was something about his voice that made me not mind pausing.

“What?”

“I just want to look at you for a second.”

I felt my cheeks grow warm.  “You can’t see anything.  It’s too dark in here.”

“I can see enough.”  He sat up slowly.  “I don’t know why you’re so self-conscious about your body.” Was I?  “Yoga’s been good to you.”

Holy hell.  That little statement right there…it made me feel like a giddy high school girl, younger even than my daughter.  I would have thought by this age that I’d be immune to flattery.  Not true, though.  Coming from the right man, it was more precious than gold.  My face was blazing hot now, and I was glad he couldn’t see it.  I snatched up my robe and put it on, uncomfortable with the attention.  “Thank you…but it’s distracting.”

I could hear a smile in his voice.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

No better time than the present to broach the subject that needed discussion.  I walked over to the side of the bed where he lay (what used to be Mel’s side) and sat next to him.  The way his hand brushed over my shoulder felt so natural…but I had to stay focused.  “Brandon, we probably need to talk about what’s going on here.”

“Why?  Are you upset?”

He was perceptive—I’d give him that much—butupsetwasn’t the right word. Concernedseemed more accurate.  “No.”

“So what’s wrong?”

I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject but decided that just diving in—like we’d already been doing—might be the best tactic.  “Nothing’s wrong.  I just…guess I thought we needed to talk about what’s going on here.”  I looked down and resisted the temptation to take his hand into mine. Focus.  “I mean…do we go back to the way things were, pretend this never happened?  Or do we…?”  My voice trailed off as I tried to organize my thoughts.  “Does something like this even stand a chance of working?”

When he spoke, it wasn’t a question, and I could hear the fatigue in his words.  “You mean because of our age difference.”

I let the air out of my lungs and nodded before answering.  “Yes.”  His shrug was so slight, it was almost imperceptible.  “Can you see something like this working?”

His eyes drifted up from the hands in my lap that I was wringing until they were boring into mine.  “I think we should give us a chance.”

I sucked in a tiny breath, because I hadn’t expected him to say that.  I didn’t know what I’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t something aboutus.  His words made me realize that we were already connected.

More than I would have admitted aloud.

So there were no words to force out of my mouth, no syllables that needed saying—not about that subject anyway.  I nodded and let the idea churn through my brain.  Then I let my fingers do what they wanted and I grabbed his hands.  Part of me felt like I needed to hang onto something, because I was getting ready to go on the ride of my life.  There were some other things that needed to be said, and I needed to try to find a way to get them out.  “My kids…”

He nodded.  “Are you wanting to keep everything secret for now?”

God…had he tapped into my mind or what?  “Yeah.  I just…I don’t want things to feel awkward for them and this—”

“Yeah, no problem.  I can do that.”  I was so grateful that he wasn’t making this difficult.  “I should probably get the hell out of your bed then.”

But first he kissed me…and when my eyes were closed, our ages didn’t matter one damn bit.

 

* * *

 

THE KIDS LEFT for school and Brandon left for work, so I was alone.  I tried to do some yoga and couldn’t focus.  Writing was definitely too difficult, so I did some journaling.  The truth was I was far too giddy, feeling too free to really concentrate on anything other than my riled-up emotions.

But there was also some guilt underneath it all.

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