“It was my pleasure,” Vera says, and I swear I can hear a smile in her voice. “Have a good rest of your evening.”
“Thank you. You, too.” My hand tightens on my phone, and I hold my breath, waiting through the silence until the phone beeps to indicate the end of the call. Then I hit the power button to black out the screen and exhale sharply.
It’s fucking over. Finally. And it went well. In fact, I think it went really, really well.
I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly. Then I slip my phone into my pocket and stand. I don’t sway on my feet, like I did earlier, and while I’m a little stiff, I don’t feel shaky or weak. Even my shoulder feels okay, although that might just be the large dose of ibuprofen Alex’s mom gave me after we left the urgent care center. I am exhausted, though, and for a second, I contemplate just collapsing into bed.
But then I hear a familiar laugh from downstairs, and feelings of warmth and love and acceptance fill me. Shifting my left arm to rest better in the sling, which I’m quickly learning to despise, I open Alex’s bedroom door and then head for the stairs, needing to see him.
When I reach the bottom step, he’s there, like he heard me coming, and he must be able to see it on my face—that the interview went well—because he grins brightly and immediately wraps both of his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he just dips his forehead down to rest against mine.
“It went well?” he asks.
“Yeah, I think so.”
He smiles even wider and straightens up enough to place a light kiss on my forehead. My stomach swoops with the most wonderful warmth, and I close my eyes and let myself lean into him.
“Mom just took the cornbread out of the oven, and the soup’s ready, if you’re hungry.”
I just hum a nonresponse and bury my head into his chest. He laughs quietly, kisses the top of my head, and then backs up a step so he can see me. He seems to study my face as though looking for something, and I guess he finds it, because he smiles again and then bends down and kisses my lips as his hand slips into mine.
“Come on,” he says, squeezing my hand gently.
With a deep breath, I nod, and we start across the room towardthe kitchen. Ahead of us, his mom is setting a small glass casserole dish on top of a pot holder on the table. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles softly.
“Dinner’s ready.” She straightens up and takes off her oven mitts, pausing to look from me to Alex and back again. Then her eyes seem to get a little misty, and she shakes her head. “You two are adorable together, you know that?”
My cheeks heat up, and I drop my eyes to the floor.
Next to me, Alex coughs roughly. “Mom!”
“What? It’s true,” she argues, her grin turning teasing. “And anyway, I’m allowed to say that.”
“Are you, now?”
“Yes, I am,” she declares without any other explanation. “Now sit and eat before dinner gets cold.”
Alex sighs. “That huge pot of soup will be scalding hot for at least another half hour, even if we don’t touch it, Mom.”
“Nonsense.”
I let go of Alex’s hand to muffle a laugh, and Alex groans and shakes his head. It all feels something close to normal—watching the two of them joke like this—and it helps. Alex steps ahead of me and pulls out my chair, and this time, it’s his cheeks that are red when our eyes meet.
“Oh, see, she’s right. Youareadorable,” I tease with a smirk. His cheeks redden even more, and from the other side of the table, his mom snorts a laugh. He flashes her a look, but she just laughs again, and when he glances back at me, there’s amusement in his eyes. I shake my head, then stretch up and kiss his lips before slipping into my seat.
Dinner is amazing. I didn’t think I was hungry, but the taco soup and cornbread are the perfect meal. I’m too tired to talk much, but they both seem to understand, and beyond a few brief questions about how the interview went, they don’t push me. Theconversation steers to other things instead, like the new painting Alex’s mom is working on and some details about housing stuff Alex received in an email from Stanford this morning.
When we’re all finished eating, Alex’s mom stands up and starts to gather her dishes. Alex moves to join her, but she shakes her head.
“I’ve got it tonight,” she says. “The two of you go relax. It’s been quite a day, and I’m sure you’re both tired.”
Alex seems poised to argue, but I reach over and set my hand on his thigh to stop him. He glances at me, and I smile weakly and tilt my head toward the stairs, hoping he’ll understand. I’m exhausted, and I need him tonight.
He hesitates only another second and then covers my hand with his and nods. “Okay, yeah. Thanks, Mom.”
Together, we both stand up, and his hand finds my back as we start toward the stairs. I’m more tired with each step, and by the time we reach his bedroom, I’m ready to collapse.
Wordlessly, he guides me over to the bed, helps me sit, and then starts undressing me, every touch soft and tender. He kneels down in front of me and takes off my shoes and socks first. Then he unfastens and removes the sling, being extra careful not to hurt my shoulder. Still gentle and slow, he slips off my slacks and my polo shirt, and then he helps me lie down and get under the covers. He lingers there with me for a second before getting up to turn out the light and undress himself. By the time he joins me a few moments later, immediately scooting in behind me and gathering me up in his arms, I’m feeling more loved than maybe I ever have.
