Page 72 of Fighting

“Look!” I push the canister across the table, and as he examines it, I take the quiet moment to go back to my stream of mixed thoughts and feelings.

“What’s that highly educated brain of yours thinking about right now?” He stalks around the table, moving closer, slow and soft, like a jungle cat. He’s trying not to spook me.

“A lot of things. I’m trying to figure out why you are doing this for me.” I sigh. “Wondering if maybe it’s just for your own financial gain. I’m thinking about how relationships are complicated and I understand them better than most people. How, because of my work, I’ve seen some of the most dark and depressing moments of many, many people’s lives, yet I can’t recall ever seeing a man other than Aba washing dishes by hand. I am thinking that you don’t seem real, and that if you are real and I get it wrong, then I’m going to be furious with myself for missing out on more.”

As I fight back tears, he bops my nose and winks.

That’s pretty much all I need to pick a side in this internal war I’ve been fighting. I stand and fist his shirt at the collar, then pull him in for a kiss.

With his arms wrapped around me, he lifts me, abandoning our half-empty mugs on the table. He carries me back to my room and places me on the bed gently. Straightening, he scans the space, and when he spots my water cup, he snatches it and motions one finger for me to stay put, then steps out of the room.

Soft clinks and tinkling noises drift to me, the padded bop of the dishwasher closing.

Then I find myself accidentally eavesdropping. “Thanks for coming,” Delia says. “Your sister text you too?”

“Yeah. Everything okay?” Mateo asks, his tone soft and full of concern.

“I think it will be, but the way she ran out when Caleb got up to speak, flushed and ill, has me worried. She’s dancing around it, but?—”

“But she’s allowed to have things that are only hers,” he says. “We just need to keep her away from that asshole.”

My chest swells with each word. The two of them are practically fighting over me.

My mom’s words echo in my ears. “You deserve the goodness you put out in the world.”

This is good—my friends,him.

When Mateo returns, he has a glass of ice water in each hand. With an impish grin, he kicks the door shut behind him. He sets the cups on my side table, then joins me in bed, sitting with his back propped up against the headboard and his legs stretched long. With a fake yawn, he drapes his arm around my shoulders and rests a hand on my breast.

The move is so silly it pulls a giggle from me.

“I want to show you something,” he says, snatching the remote from the comforter.

My body goes slack against his, and I turn his way, finding him already studying me. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead.

“Mmm, that feels nice.” Eyes closed, I sigh and drop my head back to his chest.

He pulls a soft blanket over us, tucking us in tight, holding me in a way that suggests no expectations. No performance inlace required to be close—a kind of loving touch no man has ever shown me before.

“Good,” he says, pressing Play. “This is all supposed to feel nice.” With a sigh, he pulls me in tighter still.

I don’t even know what he wanted me to see, because within minutes, I drift off to sleep in his arms.

I dream of letting myself fall in love with this man, the one who’s working so hard to prove he won’t hurt me. We walk along the beach, hand in hand, with a tiny dark-haired toddler wearing nothing but a diaper ambling ahead. The child has dark hair, like Mateo, and my complexion.

A black cat appears magically, then a couple of bunnies.

Without notice, dark gray storm clouds blow in off the shore. The sea turns rough and choppy as the bunnies combine into a super-sized rabbit. The creature then tackles the black cat, and they wrestle for dominance before a wave sweeps in and washes them all away.

When I wake the next morning, all I find beside me is a note on the pillow.

Getting an early start and didn’t want to wake you. See you tonight

–M

thirty-one

Mateo

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