Page 79 of Love in Riverbend
“Your eyebrows can stop. We already laid the ground rules.”
“You know the best part about rules?” she asks.
“They keep you between the lines.”
“No. They can be broken.”
“I’m going to sleep,” I say.
“Right. You sleep and don’t worry about Molly. We’re good.”
My next call is to my mother. She tells me that they’re moving Dad to a room, and once she has the room number, she’ll text both me and Justin. When I tell her I have her things and that Molly is at Chloe’s house, she tells me to rest first.
Right.
Rest.
Turning on the shower, I let it heat up. In no time, the stall fills with steam. I didn’t bring any toiletries of my own, so once inside, I squeeze some of Dax’s bodywash onto a cloth and begin to suds myself. As I do, I realize that today’s rest has no chance of going to the next step.
When you haven’t been with anyone for six years, you can let things go.
In a nutshell, I’ve let things go.
I need a new razor or an appointment for wax before this body is ready for anything other than a nap. As the warm water rains down, the scent of Dax’s shampoo fills the air, and I am certain that sleep won’t be hard to come by.
When I get out of the shower, the clothes I’d brought with me are gone, and in their place, is a long t-shirt that reads Cubs. After drying off and combing out my hair, I slip the t-shirt over my head, certain that this is a sacrilege to my dad. It falls to my thighs. With no other choice, I open the bathroom door to the landing. Downstairs I hear noises, making me think Dax is cooking more than toast.
I peer in each bedroom, but my clothes are MIA.
Holding the hem of the t-shirt as low as I can, I step down the staircase and turn toward the dining room and into the kitchen. My smile broadens at the sight of him. With bare feet, low-hanging blue jeans, and no shirt, Dax is ready to be a model for a magazine or the cover of a romance book. There’s a pan in front of him and he has a spatula in his hand. His gold stare comes my way.
Seeing the shirt, he grins. “You found my shirt.”
“It’s the Cubs. My dad would never approve.”
His head tilts. “It’s not too late to get Molly to cheer for the Cubs, is it?”
“Oh, it was too late when she was three months old. Dad had her wearing Cardinals onesies from birth.”
Dax takes a deep breath. “I’m not giving up. If I can get you to be standing here with me” —he comes closer and lifts a few strands of my wet hair— “freshly showered, wearing only a Cubs shirt, nothing is impossible. Molly will be cheering for the Cubs.”
With his bare chest only inches away, I look up and grin. “The strangest thing happened.”
“What?” he asks, looking too innocent.
“The clothes I took into the bathroom disappeared. Not only that, but the ones I took off are gone.”
“Hmm. That is strange. Do you think the house is haunted?”
I reach up to his damp hair. “Is this from the rain or did you shower?”
“Shower. Don’t worry. You had all the hot water.”
A laugh bubbles to life. “Seriously, do you know where my wet clothes are?”
He tilts his head. “Laying out in the laundry room. Mom had all the old appliances taken away. Unfortunately, a new washer and dryer have yet to be ordered. Buying a new pair is on my list of things to do.”
Looking at the stove, I see scrambled eggs and my stomach growls. “Those smell wonderful.”
