Page 59 of Bar Down, Baby

“Hey,” I say.

“Hi.” She places her folded hands over her book.

I shut the door behind me and walk into the room, standing at the end of her bed. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine, Derek.” The way she says it is so gentle, but also so precise. As if she knows exactly how much I needed to hear that she really and truly is fine.

“Megan,” I start, but there’s something wrong about this. Me standing as she sits in bed. I shouldn’t be looking down on her. It’s all wrong. I get down on my knees next to where her feet dangle over the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, Megan. I’m so sorry. I knew I was fucking it all up and it was like I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop saying all those horrible things. And none of it was true. You know that, right?”

A hint of a smile curves the corner of her mouth.

“It’s okay.” Her words nearly fell me. She says them so easily, gives them so freely. My chest squeezes and it’s almost too much.

“It’s not though. I’m just so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she says, cupping my cheek. I lean into the warmth of her palm as my vision blurs. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too.”

“I know you are, princess,” I say, cupping her face. “I don’t want you to be. Everything is just… it’s so much. I think part of me freaked out when I got here and you were gone.”

“Partof you?” She lifts her eyebrows.

I laugh. “Maybe more than part of me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your texts. Or the ones from Ainsley or Freddy. I bumped the ringer button and didn’t feel it buzzing. I’ve reset it so that when you text or call, it has a special buzz, so I won’t miss it.”

I let my forehead fall against her knuckles and laugh.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

“It’s done. And I do have another pair of shoes. They were under my bed. I’ll make sure I’m wearing them when I go on errands.”

“You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to wear. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’ll wear what I want, and I just forgot I had those shoes. They’re bright red.”

“I bet they’ll look great,” I say, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Obviously,” she says, and a blush comes into her cheeks. “And I filled the ice cube trays.”

“Wait,” I say, reaching into the bag. I pull out two ice packs and a box of instant ice packs. I break one open, cracking it to activate it, and I pass it to her. She squeezes it, her eyes going wide with wonder as she feels the crystals cooling instantly in her hand.

“I’ve never really needed to take care of myself. Not like this.” She blinks up at me from under her dark fringe. “It’s a steep learning curve.”

“You’re doing an amazing job. I’m sorry I said what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” she says, running her fingers through my hair and pushing it back off my forehead. “Still, I can do better. I can meet you halfway.”

“I can work with that.” I grin, and then lean in, and brush my lips against hers. It feels so natural, so right, that I do it again.

She smiles against my lips and then brushes a soft kiss against the tip of my nose. She yawns, covering it with her hand. I know I should leave, let her get some rest. But I can’t seem to pull myself away.

She lifts the lightweight blanket and scoots over.

“Come on,” she says, her voice an almost whisper as if she’s afraid to break the spell.

I kick off my shoes and flick off the lights as I slip out of my jeans and t-shirt. Then I slide into her bed, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her tight against me. I let my hand settle on her stomach, feeling the adorably round, hard belly. We lie there, quietly, and I allow myself to just absorb the incredible feeling of rightness of holding her like this.

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