Page 94 of Love in Mission City
And, as I sat across the couch from Cullen, I could admit these were things I’d wanted to do with him.
The remnants of the pizza we’d nearly demolished lay abandoned on my coffee table.
“Do you need to head home? Are the kids expecting you?”
Cullen offered me a small smile. “I…might’ve said I might not be home tonight. Edith might’ve told me to enjoy myself.”
“That’s a lot ofmights.”
“Yeah.” He met my gaze. “I haven’t spent a single night away from them since my son was born. That’s seven years.” Hecocked his head. “Actually, from the day I was married. I never left Catherine’s side, either. And I’m so fucking glad, because of the limited time we’d had. We hadn’t known at the beginning, of course. We just assumed we’d have fifty or sixty years.”
As we sat next to each other on the couch, easing toward him and holding out my hand felt natural. Unplanned. Unschooled.
He grasped my hand as if I offered a lifeline. “I didn’t know.”
“Did you leave anything on the table? Were there words unsaid?”
“No.” He exhaled the word. “We lived life to the fullest from day one. Always going a hundred trying to keep everything together, yet never straying far from each other. And when they told us she was sick? I dreaded even going to work. I never went out with the guys. We limited time with friends. And maybe that wasn’t healthy, but she needed her strength to fight. Only when they told us she was losing the battle did we start to let people in. Well, Catherine did. Because she didn’t want me to be alone when she passed. She knew…” He sniffed. “And she told me to find you. She wanted to contact you herself, but I asked her not to.”
“I would’ve been there for you.”
“I know. But I could’ve easily come to depend on you. And you would’ve seen me as weak.”
“Cullen—”
He shook his head. “After the way I treated you? You deserved better.” He idly stroked the juncture between my thumb and finger. “I wanted to come to you whole, healed, and with a degree.”
Guilt swamped me. I could’ve reached out. When Marta told me about Catherine’s death, I could’ve gone. Should’ve gone. But damn pride kept me from taking that step. “I should’ve come.”
“I might’ve turned you away. Or I might’ve become reliant on you and never achieved my dreams.” He turned his blue eyes tome. “I needed to grieve, Gil. Properly. There are stages of grief, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard something about that.” I should’ve looked them up when my grandfather had been so deeply mired in grief for my grandmother, but I hadn’t. “You’ve worked through the stages?”
He nodded. “Some were easier than others. I stayed in anger too long, and acceptance took longer than I expected as well. But yeah, I’m…I don’t want to saygoodwith Catherine’s death, because that makes it sound like it’s okay she died, which it totally isn’t. Twenty-seven is too damn young.”
I completely agreed. Of course, I wanted people in my life to live forever. But life didn’t work that way.
“Gil?”
“Yeah, baby?”
Crap.
That slipped out way too easily.
A small smile crept across his face. “Could we…?”
“Yeah, we sure can.” I was ninety-nine percent certain of what he was asking from me. But even if I just held him all night, I’d be totally okay with that. I needed more of him. I’d never get enough of him.
He rose from the couch, then pulled me up.
I stepped into his space and pressed myself against him. “Whatever, okay? No pressure.” Because I could think of a million reasons why this was a bad idea. That being said, if I could offer him comfort after that very intense discussion, I was okay with that.
“Do you have condoms? I mean, you said—”
I pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m an optimist, Cullen. I always have condoms.” And they weren’t even expired.
Grasping his hand, I led him up the stairs. My house was large for a bachelor—four bedrooms and four bathrooms, plusa finished basement. In my mind, I’d always hoped I’d have a family to share it with. Or, at the least, space if I could convince my grandfather to move in.
