I wrap my arm around his stomach, pulling him closer to me. He leans his head down and kisses the top of my head.
“I was close to my dad; he was my best friend. I’m an only child so I was close to both parents, but we just had this bond.” I smile, thinking about one of the last memories of him.
“What are you thinking about?”
“One of my favorite memories of him. We had this tradition. We’d go on what he called dad dates. I grew up in a small suburb, about forty minutes outside the city so there wasn’t a ton to do but we always found adventures. We’d either go to the bowling alley or the arcade and Dad would always let me win whatever game we played. He’d let me eat nachos and drink my weight in soda because my mom never would. Then afterward we’d always go to Mike’s Chill, this tiny little ice cream stand that had the best homemade ice cream.”
“That sounds like a wonderful memory.”
“Yeah, it was. That was the last thing we did before he died. We’d do that once a month and we had gone out that Sunday. The next day, he got hit by a truck driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel.”
The room goes silent and I can tell he doesn’t know what to say.
I sit up partially and crawl my way onto his body so I’m lying on top of him, our bodies touching from head to toe. I fold my arms over his chest and rest my chin on my hands.
“You’re going to awaken something if you keep moving around on me like that.” He smiles and snakes his fingers through my hair.
“How does it still have any… lift?” I say and he laughs.
“That’s all you, baby. You drive me wild, like nobody has before.”
I hate myself for it, but I immediately want to ask if that includes his wife. I don’t, of course. I know that’s a boundary I have no business crossing.
I reach up and trace the tattoo on his shoulder. “I didn’t expect this.”
He looks down to where my fingers touch his skin and pulls them to his lips, kissing them.
“That’s a story for another time. It’s late, baby. We need to sleep.”
I pull myself from him and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up. He darts his hand out and grabs me. “Whoa, where are you going?”
“To bed,” I say.
“You’re in bed.”
“Did you want me to sleep in here? With you?”
He doesn’t answer; he just wraps his arm around my waist and pulls my body back against his, dropping his leg over mine and pulling the blankets around us.
I snuggle into him, my mind threatening to go down the road of what will happen tomorrow, but I tell myself not to ruin tonight. I close my eyes as my body relaxes against his.
“Good night, Mr. Hayes,” I whisper.
“Mmmm,” he groans against my neck as the hand on my waist squeezes me. “Don’t tease me,” he says sleepily. “Good night, temptress.”
Within minutes, his nose is buried in my hair and we’re both drifting off to sleep.
18
GRAHAM
I reach my hand out across the bed, opening my eyes when instead of Margot’s warm body I feel the cold, empty sheets.
I sit up, looking around. I lean over and grab my phone. It’s just after six fifteen a.m. Maybe Margot went downstairs to get coffee. Or maybe she works out in the morning. I realize I don’t actually have a clue what time her day starts or what her routine is.
“Did I dream last night?” I say to myself as I look around once more.
I pull the sheets off my body and stand up to stretch. Nope. I definitely didn’t dream that last night. I smile, my body already ready for a repeat.
“Down, boy,” I say, walking to the bathroom to start the shower.
After I dry off, I get dressed, picking out a charcoal suit with a black tie. I make my way downstairs, stopping on the second floor briefly to see if she’s with Eleanor. Both of their bedroom doors are closed. I lift my hand and knock softly on Margot’s door, not wanting to wake Eleanor if she isn’t up yet.
“Margot?” I say, but there’s no answer. I contemplate opening the door but decide against it. As much as I’ve pushed her boundaries last night, I don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have her own private space here.
I turn and make my way downstairs, in serious need of a double shot of espresso this morning.
“There you are.” I find Margot standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in her hands.
“Thought I might have dreamed last night.” I sidle up against her as I reach to grab a mug out of the cabinet to her right. I place my hand on her lower belly, planting a kiss on her temple. “You okay?”
She nods, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Margot?” I tip her chin upward.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired.” Her smile seems halfhearted. “Needed this.” She lifts her coffee.
I place my mug under the spout of the espresso machine and select the double option. The machine sputters and hisses to life, the scent of the coffee already making me a little more awake.
“Is that why you left without waking me?”
She stares at her pink fuzzy slipper as she draws little circles with her foot.
“Yeah, I know neither of us slept much so I just wanted to let you sleep in.” I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at her. She’s lying. “Okay, fine. I was worried it would be weird this morning,” she huffs before placing her mug on the counter next to her.
I reach for her hands. “Weird how?”
She sighs. “Look, last night was—well, I can’t even put into words how good it was, but I also don’t want to complicate things—for Eleanor. I don’t know what this is and that’s okay. I don’t need an explanation or a label, but I also don’t want to confuse her. You were pretty adamant about that a few weeks ago and I agree with you. She’s too young.”
I had a feeling that’s what it was about and I don’t blame her. I’ve had the same thoughts and concerns in the back of my head. It’s part of why I tried to resist her.
“I get it and I agree. I’m not being irresponsible and not thinking about those things, about her feelings or yours. I want you to know I’m considering all those things and I’m trying to make the right choices for my happiness, for—” I hesitate. “Our happiness. I am a father first and foremost; I don’t want to confuse or hurt Eleanor either.”
She listens quietly.
“Just promise me you’ll let me worry about that—as her father. Trust me that I will make the right decisions for her?”
She nods, her smile a little less apprehensive this time, then she pulls her hands slowly from mine and goes to walk around me. I shoot my arm out, capturing her around the waist.
“You know I care about you, right?” She stares up at me and I pull her closer. “You mean something to me. I don’t know what’s going through that pretty head of yours but don’t question that. Last night was”—I feel myself stir in my slacks with just the mention of last night—“special. I don’t regret it this morning if you’re worried about that.”
“I know, I understand.”