“I’ll ask, alright.”
We go back to work, but still trade small jabs and small smiles between brushstrokes.
When the first coat is done, Petyr opens the window and checks the vents, and I sit in the rocking chair to catch my breath.
“You happy?” he asks from the ladder.
He means with the room. “Yes,” I say, even though that’s not whatImean. Not exclusively, anyway. “Are you?”
He looks at me then. The answer is in his face before he says a word. “Yes.”
This time, I don’t think he’s talking about the room, either.
Despite the strange edge that still runs through the house, things between us remain good. Better than good, even. We’re connected again. We talk about baby names, stand in the doorway at night and stare at the crib like it’s already full, our hearts fuller.
I’mhappy.About us, and about our future.
We haven’t defined what it is yet. There’s still a lot to smooth over. But we’re working on it.
After nearly a week of something close to normal, Petyr sets his fork down at dinner. “I have to go into the club tonight,” he says. “There’s work I can’t do from here.”
I glance up from my plate. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
He shakes his head. “If it could, I wouldn’t bother. I’ve been working from the office too long as it is.”
I sigh. “You mean you’ve been pretending to work while hovering over me.”
“That’s part of the job description.”
I stab another bite of food and shrug. I don’t want to be clingy. God knows I spent weeks hammering over the point of personal freedom.
But the truth is, the emotions of that night still haven’t faded.
“Fine,” I give up eventually. Walk the walk, right? “Go. But if you’re not back before sunrise, I’m sending Luka to drag you home.”
“It won’t take long,” he assures me.
“It’s fine.” It’s really not, but I have to get over it at some point. What else am I gonna do? Lock him in a room for the rest of our natural born lives? “Go handle your mob stuff.”
His mouth twitches. “You make it sound like I’m hosting karaoke night.”
“Are you?” I ask. “Because that is something I’d actually attend.”
He gives me one of his almost-smiles, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes but still softens his face. “I’ll be back before you wake up.”
You’d better.
I kiss him goodnight in the hallway. His warmth lingers on my lips and makes me feel all fuzzy inside.
Then he’s gone, and the house feels too big without him in it.
Later, I’m in bed with a book I’ve been trying to finish for weeks.
The words blur together, my eyes heavy. The lamp casts a soft pool of light across the blankets.
I turn a page on my e-reader. Then another. Eventually, I give up. The baby’s been calm all evening inside me, and the silence feels peaceful.
I set the book on the nightstand, switch off the lamp, and sink back against the pillow.
