Page 39 of Hold You Close
“What are you making?” I ask as she sprinkles glitter glue on her picture.
“A princess. It’s for Uncle Ian,” she tells me. “He can take it to work.”
I smile, imagining him hanging up the glittery pink artwork in his office. “That’s so nice of you. He’s going to love it.”
My phone has another missed text.
Ian:I’m pretty sure I already know, but can’t wait to see if I’m right.
My stomach fluttersthinking about the two of us in any bed again. I shut it down, though. That’s a thought I don’t need to entertain.
Ian is bad for my heart.
Nine
London
Christopher comes in around seven and gobbles up dinner like he hasn’t eaten in days. After a second helping, he heads upstairs to shower without saying much. I’m concerned about him, but I don’t want to push. He doesn’t come back downstairs, and when I take Ruby up to bed at eight and then Morgan at nine-thirty, he’s still in his room with the door shut. After debating whether or not I should just leave him be for now, I decide to knock.
“Christopher?”
“Yeah?” His voice is muffled through the closed door.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Well . . . do you need anything?”
“No.”
I bite my lip. “Okay, honey. I put an empty laundry basket in your closet earlier. You can use that for your dirty clothes.”
“Thanks.”
I give it a few more seconds but can’t think of anything else to draw him out, and maybe he needs the alone time, anyway. “Goodnight. I’m here if you need anything.”
“Night.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I head back downstairs to switch the girls’ laundry into the dryer, but there’s a load of Ian’s darks in there. Tossing it into a basket, I transfer the girls’ things into the dryer and turn it on. Then, since I am the type of person who cannot stand to leave clean clothes heaped in a basket, I figure I might as well fold Ian’s things.
I bring the basket out to the living room, sit on the couch, and turn on CSI. As I work, it occurs to me this evening offers a little glimpse of what my life might have been like had things not gone so wrong with Ian and me. We might be married now. We might live in a big house like this with a pool. We might have three amazing kids like the ones sleeping upstairs. I might be here folding laundry on a Thursday night while he’s at work. I cringe a little at the traditional gender roles implied in this scenario—I like being a woman with a career—but the feeling is actually kind of nice. Cozy. Reassuring. And who’s to say I wouldn’t be getting up in the morning and hurrying into the office once I got the kids on the bus? Women don’t have to choose these days, do they?
I’ve folded a few shirts and matched a couple pairs of socks when I realize the load also contains a few pairs of underwear—short boxer briefs in navy and black. My stomach flutters a little as my mind wanders deeper into the fantasy. Maybe when he gets home, I’m already asleep in bed, but he slips in behind me and curls his warm body around mine. Maybe I feel him start to get hard as his hands move over my breasts. Maybe I reach behind me and wrap my hand around his cock and he says to me, his voice deep and gravelly in the dark, “Want something?” Then he—
“Aunt London?”
I open my eyes, realizing Ruby has just caught me swooning over a pair of men’s underpants. Shoving them behind my back, I clear my throat. “What is it, sweetie?”
“I’m thirsty. Can I have some water?”
“Of course.” I jump up, and she follows me to the kitchen. My nipples are hard and tingling, and my underwear feels damp. I focus on filling a glass with water and shove the thought of Ian naked and hard and reaching for me out of my mind.
It’s not easy.
I give the glass to Ruby. “Here you go.”
After she’s taken a couple sips, she hands it back. “Thank you.”
