Page 92 of (My Accidental) Killer Summer
“God, baby.” Noah buries his head in my neck and clutches me to him tighter. “I fucking missed you so much.”
I want to say something like in return. I did miss him. More than anything. And I hope he means it when he says he’s back. With all my heart I hope it. But fucking isn’t going to fix the issues we’ve had. We have.
And…
Fuck.
“Noah, we didn’t use protection,” I whisper.
“Babe, we don’t need anything like that.”
“Don’t we?” My question hangs in the air between us.
“Elle—” he starts.
“I haven’t been with anyone since you, Noah.” I turn in his arms to face him and brush the lock of hair from his forehead that fallen there. I let my statement hang right alongside my question.
His silence says everything I need to know. I want to go back to that moment a few hours ago where I didn’t give a fuck that he’d been with someone else. But that’s harder to do with his cum dripping out of me.
“I… I’ve been tested,” he says.
“I need to pee,” I say, untangling myself from his embrace and getting off the bed to head to the bathroom. I need a minute to regroup. But instead of giving that to me, he follows me.
“Elle.” He pushes at the bathroom door when I try to shut it in his face. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you take a piss before.”
“That was before,” I say, closing the door gently in his face and locking it audibly.
“You are and always will be the only woman I’ve ever loved. I’ve ever wanted.”
I finish. Flush. Wash my hands. And study my reflection in the mirror. I look love struck. And who can blame me. I just got fucked into never-never land by my ex-husband who I’venever stopped wanting. I hate this back and forth I’m feeling. One second everything is fine. The next second I’m afraid of everything and convinced he’s going to burn it all to the ground again.
I smooth back my hair as best I can and throw on a robe before I open the door and paste a smile on my face. “I’m going to go downstairs and start breakfast for the kids. They’ll be home from the sleepover any minute to get ready for school. Even though Jill is suspended, it’s in-school so she still needs to go. And, even with everything that happened, I think Jaq should go to school. I need to tell you about the meeting with the Principal and Guidance Counselor at some point. Feel free to shower or whatever.”
“Elle—”
I move to brush past him.
“Don’t do this,” he says, fingers firm around my arm. Not bruising. Anchoring.
“Do what?” I ask, breath steady only because I practiced it in the mirror sixty seconds ago. “Be a responsible adult with a functioning bladder?”
His jaw flexes. “Pull away. Pretend that didn’t mean anything.”
“It did,” I say. “It also meant we didn’t use protection.”
He flinches. It’s small, but I catch it. “I’ll go to the pharmacy,” he says. “Right now.”
“It’s almost seven a.m. and the kids will be here any second, if they aren’t already,” I say. “And we’re not explaining to them why Mom and Dad need Plan B while serving up their breakfast.” I exhale. “We’ll handle it after school drop-off. Together.”
Relief hits his face like shade on a too-hot day. “Together,” he echoes, softer.
“But that’s logistics,” I add. “What I’m not doing is sprinting back into the thing that blew us up. I can’t… I won’t sign up for interrogation in my kitchen and secrets in your car. If you’re here, you’re here.”
His shoulders lower a fraction. “I want to be.”
“Then today, be here,” I say. “No cross-exam. No case talk in front of the kids. We try an actual day. Like normal people.”
He nods once, carefully, like he’s afraid to jostle the agreement. “One rule for me,” he says. “If I say, ‘be boring,’ you listen.”
