Page 69 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
But no.
The old, metal door handle turned, and he stood in the darkened hallway.
“Baby?”
I still didn’t say anything.
The floorboards creaked under his feet as he approached my bed. His movements felt quiet and tentative. Not the usual brash Mikey, but the soft, gentle Mikey. This was veterinarian Mikey trying to diagnose an animal who couldn’t talk to him. Trying to figure out what was wrong based on clues.
I think the clue that my body was curled up in the fetal position and in a different room than him hinted that something was wrong.
Without saying anything else, he lifted up the cover and came into bed behind me. Then he wrapped his massive arms around me and squeezed tight. And he held me, with his nose in my hair, without saying anything.
Silent.
The morning made the room lighter little by little.
And still he held me. He didn’t loosen his grip. He stayed put.
I was scared that he fell asleep on me so I turned over.
But his dark eyes were right on mine.
“What’s going on, Jessica?”
I didn’t say anything.
He gave me a half-smile. “Was it really that bad?”
I couldn’t even laugh.
“What have we done?” I whispered. “We changed everything. And now it’s the morning, and you’re gonna leave me.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he trailed his finger down my cheek.
“Does this look like I’m leaving you?”
I shook my head.
“This is how it’s gonna be.”
“But I slept with you. I slept with a manwhore.”
“I’m really not a manwhore. Not anymore.”
“Serial monogamist?”
He shrugged, which didn’t make me feel better. But then he said, “You may be the one to break that procession, baby.”
My stomach started to unclench. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Really.”
And he kissed me gently, then pulled back.
“You needed Doritos after we had sex?”
I nodded.
