Page 63 of Healing Hearts
When we get there, Emily is already parked near Omar’s grave, which is helpful, because I didn’t actually know which one it was. I put my vehicle in park, and Amir scrambles out, the two bundles in his arms. I leave Emily’s on the passenger seat, suddenly self-conscious about the choice.
“Who told you?” Emily asks when I get close enough. Amir is already deep into trying to “plant” the flowers around Omar’s grave in the dirt. Not exactly what I was expecting, but he’s five.
“Tyler,” I admit, staring at the dates on the headstone, how close together they are. Seeing them, it drives home how young he was, how surprising the whole thing must have been for Emily.
“We brought flowers for Grandpa too,” Amir says, gesturing to the other bundle he’s left on the ground.
Emily’s soft gaze meets mine, and I know I did the right thing. My chest swells at the proof on her face, at that tenderexpression she normally has when she looks at Amir. To think that I inspired that kind of emotion is pretty amazing.
“Thank you,” she says. “You didn’t have to.”
“I like taking care of you,” I say, and it’s true, in all the ways she’s now letting me do it.
She draws me into a tight hug, and I hear her shaky intake of breath near my ear. Her peach scent swirls around me with the light breeze.
When she steps away, her hand seeks mine, and she threads our fingers together. We’ve never held hands before, and I try not to read anything into it. If she needs some of my strength today, she’s got it.
Instead of cooking, I ask if Omar’s favorite restaurant is still open in town and if I can take them both there. She tells me that Bontaine Burgers is his favorite—him and three-quarters of the town. I’ve never tasted a burger like it anywhere else.
After we eat, we head home, and we play board games with Amir at the kitchen table until it’s time for bed. He asks me to put him to sleep, and so I trod up the stairs with him.
When I come back down, Emily has the game cleared off the table and she’s rearranged her flowers in the vase at the center. I gave them to her when we got back here, and she got a little teary over it and tried to hide her reaction from me and Amir.
I haven’t quite been able to pinpoint her mood tonight, just as Tyler predicted. A little rocky, but maybe it would have been that way no matter what I’d done.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I am,” she says, tearing her gaze away from the flowers. She searches my face for a beat, and I can almost see the wheelsturning, her deciding what she wants to say. “This is the first year since his death where I haven’t died a little inside,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “There’s no way to thank—”
I close the gap between us, and I kiss her. I pour every ounce of my complex feelings into that kiss so that I don’t voice any of them out loud. To know I’ve taken even an ounce of her pain away with my presence is a gift I didn’t know I needed.
“I want you now,” she says against my lips.
“Tell me where,” I say, lifting her up. Her dress hitches up almost to her waist.
“Here,” she says.
“Here?”
“On the table,” she says.
I turn and shut the kitchen door, snapping the lock into place, Emily still in my arms. The benefits of an old house with smaller rooms and lots of doors.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“You’re not really going to make me beg, are you?”
“I should,” I say, laying her down on the wooden surface. “Full-circle moment.” I push up her dress and tug down her panties. “But fuck me, I love the sight of you too much to wait.” I run my calloused hands along her thighs, and she visibly shivers.
“You’re taking too long.” She rises to tug on the button of my jeans.
“I had to take a moment to admire what’s mine.” I kiss her deeply as she shoves my jeans off my ass, and they pool on the floor at my feet. She makes short work of my boxer briefs next.
Then I’m sliding into her, and she’s clutching onto me. As I move inside her, my thumb rotating on her bundle of nerves in a way that I know she loves, I can recognize that there’s something different about the vibe between us tonight. Every time we make eye contact, I see that affection I saw earlier mixed with desire, and I’m sure I’m looking at her the same way.
“I don’t know why I love this so much, why I can’t get enough of you.” There’s a hint of awe in her voice, as though it really is puzzling.
Instead of saying it back, which is what I should do because it’s how I feel too, I kiss her. And I keep kissing her so that neither of us says anything we shouldn’t.
