Page 95 of Give & Take
I can’t help but think of how safe he made me feel today; how he still makes me feel, even when he’s asleep, just by being here.
Tears clog my throat once again as I think of this morning.
I blink them away.
I could wake him up, tell him he’s free to go home. But honestly? That’s the last thing I want.
Instead, I lay another blanket over his exposed feet, then pull the first one up over his shoulders.
He mumbles something, slinging his hand out until he finds mine. He tugs me toward him. “Sunshine,” he mumbles. Then kisses me sleepily on the back of my hand before resting it on the pillow next to him.
I’m not even sure he woke up there.
My chest squeezes. Something else squeezes too as I look at the way his stubble stretches down his jaw. How his hand, with its long fingers, tapered nails, and couple of rings stretches over his chest. He could cup a lot in that hand.
Lest I do a repeat of the other night and do something inappropriate while he sleeps, I quickly go upstairs. It’s too early to eat, and I’m not hungry anyway. So I run a bath.
He might wake up and hear it, and come investigate. And if he does?
A tingle runs through me. Then he does.
Or he might sleep through it. He’ll probably sleep through it.
I don’t know if it’s the warm water and Epsom salts or the healthy-sized glass of Cab Sav I brought with me, but the moment I drop my clothes and slip into the nearly scalding water, I let out a long, blissful breath.
Sometime later, my phone buzzes.
Chris, probably.
But when I reach for it on the shelf next to the bath, I see it’s not Chris.
RAPH: Where is everyone?
My heart thumps. Outside, rain begins to prick against the window.
I tell him about Chris taking the kids out. I’mtempted to tell him I’m out too, just so he can go home and we can pretend everything is totally normal. That he didn’t just see me sob through a whole movie, or leap out of a second story window to save us.
Or that all I’ve been able to think about for days…weeks…is him. And what I want to happen right now.
With a whirring in my stomach, I text him back:
LANA: I’m upstairs.
RAPH: What are you doing?
LANA: I’m in the bath.
Three dots pop up. I can barely breathe.
They disappear.
Then:
RAPH: Are there bubbles?
I laugh. The feeling unspools me almost as much as the risk I’m taking in basically issuing him an invitation to come upstairs.
LANA: Yes, Raph, there are bubbles.
