Page 93 of The Mistakes I've Made
“Where did you go?” I asked, wondering just how long I’d been out.
Oh God, I thought, remembering all the tears as my fingers traced my puffy cheeks and swollen eyes.I must look like a hot damn mess.
Like he was reading my mind, he reached up and took my hand in his. “You look just as beautiful as ever.” He smiled warmly, flipping on the bedside light. “And I was out, grabbing provisions.”
“Provisions?”
He nodded, reaching into a small paper bag with his other hand. He drew out a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, instantly making me laugh.
“You’re a man of many talents,” I said.
“My mom is a widow,” he said plainly. “There were often tears when I was growing up. I’d do just about anything to make them go away.”
I pictured a smaller, sweeter version of Taylor sitting on his mother’s lap, sharing ice cream on a warm summer afternoon.
“And ice cream worked?” I asked, fairly certain my heart was melting faster than the ice cream in his hand.
He shrugged. “Ice cream and humor.”
“No history lessons for Mrs. Sutherland?” I asked, reaching for the pint of Karamel Sutra. I didn’t want it to go to waste after all.
“Who do you think taught me all of them in the first place?” he said, handing me a spoon. “You won’t meet a person more passionate about Ocracoke than my mom. Our family was one of the first, you know?”
“I didn’t.”
“Yep, generations of Sutherlands have lived on that island. If you want to hear a history lesson, just give her a hand with Sunday dinner. That’s how I got hooked.”
A smile spread across my face. “So, that’s where you learned all those cooking skills.”
“It was purely selfish on my part. I figured out early on that if I helped out, we would eat sooner.”
I shook my head, laughing. “I highly doubt that.”
“It’s true.” He chuckled. “I’m a pretty selfish guy.”
I swallowed hard. “No, you’re not,” I said, knowing exactly what selfish looked like. I’d seen it firsthand tonight, in the eyes of my own father. “You’re the exact opposite, Taylor.”
He seemed to sense the change in emotions, the carefree banter gone, replaced by something heavy and deep. He reached out for me, his hand gently stroking my cheek. “I’d take it away if I could.”
I blankly looked up at him.
“The pain,” he said, taking the ice cream from my hands and setting it aside. “I’d take it all, Lani.”
Pressing my cheek into the heat of his palm, I assured him, “You do, just by being here.”
He slowly shook his head from side to side. “I wish I could do more.”
“Make me forget,” I said without thinking. Reaching for him, I said it again, “Make me forget, Taylor. Just for a couple of hours, for a night. Make me forget everything that happened and—”
He kissed me. “You don’t have to beg,” he said breathlessly, his eyes intense and dead set on mine. “You don’t ever have to beg me to—”
He didn’t finish his sentence, and I could feel the mystery of his words hanging in the air as our lips met.
What was he going to say?
“You don’t ever have to beg me to…”
Have sex with you?
