The three of us, all together, hugging all at once like we used to.
Mom pulls back. “I love you.”
Chance laughs. “I meant, ‘I forgive you,’ but that’ll work too.”
* * *
It’s late.Or, early. I’m not sure what time it is, only that Gram, Mom, Erin, Chance, and I spent hours in Gram’s kitchen, talking. Gram made dinner, and then we had ice cream for dessert. Chance related some of his story. Mom informed me that she’d sold the house I’d grown up in and now lived by herself in a one-bedroom condo not far from here and was about to finish her doctorate—with plans of moving up to the university level as a professor, after a decade of lower-level teaching at the community college. Erin was engaged, I learned, to a man who worked in her office building. They’ve been living together for a year—I remember him, an attractive, kind, quiet man a few years older than Erin, a perfect match for her. He’d only proposed a few weeks before, and I oohed and ahhhhed over her ring, a beautiful princess cut single-carat.
Finally, well past midnight, Mom had to leave, since she had a nine a.m. class to teach. Erin left with her, having ridden to Gram’s with Mom. Gram had gone to bed shortly thereafter, with hugs and kisses for me, and a smile for Chance, with a reach-up to pat his bearded cheek, and then instructions for us to use her spare bedroom.
That left Chance and me alone in Gram’s kitchen.
Silence hung between us for a long while.
Chance, toying with a spoon, looks at me. “So.” He looks at me. “Better?”
I nod, fighting emotions. “Yes.” I’m sitting kitty-corner from him at Gram’s table. “I can’t even tell you.”
He nods. “Good.” He tosses the spoon back into the empty bowl and leans onto the table, toward me. “Alvin’s dealt with and you’re reunited with your family. What’s next?”
I shake my head. “No clue.” A tilt to the side. “Well, that’s not true. There’s one more person I need to see. Or at least try to.”
“Your partner?”
I nod. “Kelly.”
“She live in LA?”
I shake my head. “Not anymore. San Diego.”
“You want to stay and visit with your gram, or head down to see if you can connect with Kelly?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
He lets out a breath. “I think you’ve had enough for one day, mama.”
I nod, holding my breath, eyes closed. “I’m…” I swallow again. “I’m really overwhelmed by today, Chance.”
He stands up, extends his hand to me. “Come on. Let’s crash, yeah?”
I nod. I’ve been sitting for a few hours so my knee is stiff and sore—I have to lean hard on my cane as well as pulling hard on Chance’s hand. Once vertical, I keep hold of his hand for balance and stretch my knee to loosen it. Then, I lead him to the guest room—it’s across from Gram’s room. It’s been the same for as long as I’ve been alive: a queen bed with a handmade flannel quilt over a thick wool blanket, a pale pink floral sheet set with four thick pillows. White, lacy curtains over the window. Next to the door, a white bureau with fancy scrollwork at the feet and corners, a porcelain dish of potpourri on top. A painting of a pastoral scene over the bed, a classic red barn with pine trees in the background and chickens in the foreground.
Chance turns back the covers, kicks off his slides, and slings a hip onto the bed, reclining half on the bed, one leg trailing on the floor. He’s watching me. I don’t know what to do with myself.
“Lay down, mama.”
I look at him. Shirtless, massive, beautiful. Comfortable. At ease despite the unfamiliar surroundings and the intensity of the day. “I…” Another hard swallow, my throat thick, my tumultuous emotions roiling just beneath the surface, a confusing, churning welter of too much.
He sighs. Moves to his feet and stands in my space, touches my chin to tilt my face up. “Annika, babe. You’ve had a hell of a day.” He rests his hands on my shoulders, tugs me closer. “Take a deep breath for me.”
I suck in a deep breath, hold it, let it out slowly. And again. And again. On the third breath, I find myself falling forward until my forehead meets his breastbone. Which is, in itself, a surreal feeling for me. I’ve never been with a man I fit with like this. But then, I never knew a man like Chance existed, either. Yet, here he is, and here I am. His arms circle me, gather me closer. I shuffle a half step, and his hips are there against mine, his belly against mine, his chest against mine. His arm cradles me close. His breath is slow and steady and even.
He holds me like that for an amount of time I couldn’t begin to measure. Then, he pulls back. “Shoes off, mama.”
I comply, lifting one foot and removing my sandal without looking, then the other, tossing them with a soft thump to the rug near the foot of the bed.
“Skirt.”
