Page 125 of Stuck With You
“That hunk of a man was carrying your sick, worn-out body to bed, and you should’ve let him. You also should’ve had him crawl in with you. Just sayin’.”
A warm rush crawls through me at the thought of snuggling his big, firm body. I inhale through my newly opened nostrils, wanting to conjure up his unique scent. He smells so damn good.
I shut it down immediately. I will not be thinking about how any man smells, especially the broody, blunt grump across the street.
“What do you have to lose? You’re already pushing him away.”
She can’t see my massive eye roll, but it’s noteworthy.A man I’m really beginning to care about, along with my only remaining microscopic specks of trust.
When I don’t respond, she pushes. “What are you afraid of?” Her gentle question slams into the truth.
This, I’m willing to answer out loud. “Uh. . .maybe the truckload of judgment and ridicule that comes when people find out.”
I admitted things to Slade that I haven’t told anyone. I don’t know if it was the fever or his fingers running through my hair that coaxed it out of me. But I told him about Miles, how stupid I was, and the mortifying details of my marriage.
Did I tell him everything? No, but enough. And now, he’s avoiding me, which is also probably my fault.
“I know most people don’t understand what you accomplished and what it took, but you’ve got to toss out those trolls, the wenches you called friends, and Miles completely out of the picture. His stupid ass will prance around with his ding-dong leading the way like Rudolph-The-Freaking-Times-Square-Reindeer.”
I smile, knowing she’s right, but also, she didn’t have to face the brunt of the comments and insinuations. People judged, mocked, and liked to make uninformed assumptions about what I actually did. I don’t know if I can handle one of those people being Slade.
“You’re not giving him enough credit,” she says lightly.
I kiss the top of Frankie’s head. Maybe I’m not. But it’s been over seventy years, and there’s still a shitload of misconceptions and false ideas. The truth is, I care what Slade thinks. I really care.
That realization settles like a giant rock in my gut.
There’s a knock on the door, and Grover barks, his tail wagging. I see the outline of a figure beyond the frosted glass, and my heart jumps a little at the thought of it possibly being Slade.
“Rox, someone’s at the door.”
“Ok. Just talk to him. Tell him or don’t, but at least talk to him.” There’s another knock. “K. Love you. Bye.”
I carry Frankie with me, using her cute smiley face as a shield against the grumpy scowl that could be present on the other side of the door.
I yank it open.
“Hey. You’re home,” Krissy says, holding a brown grocery sack. “I’ve wanted to stop by and see how you all are since Slade said you were sick, but my schedule has been crazy.”
I step back, inviting her in while the flickers of anticipation are snuffed out.
She holds up the bag. “I’m super late to the party, but I brought you some soup. It’s only a jar from the store, so you can save it for next time.”
“Thank you. That’s so thoughtful.” I step back, inviting her in and she sets the sack on the small bench by the door.
“Kissy!” Ollie jumps up and grabs her hand, tugging her to the floor.
Grover nuzzles her with his wet nose, and she accepts his kisses.
“Pout-Pout is the a-a-aircraft carrier. See.” He’s lined two jets on top of the flattened fish.
“I see that.” She smiles as one jet takes off. “So, you’re feeling better?”
I nod. “Yeah, finally. It’s taken a few weeks, but we’re back at it.”
Frankie crawls into Krissy’s crossed legs and makes herself at home in her lap. She runs a hand over Frankie’s growing mullet.
“I’m glad. Slade said you were pretty sick.”
