“I had no idea what I was doing.”
“Then you have amazing beginner’s luck. You did great.”
“Well.Youare great. And brave. Just so you know.”
My insides twist in a familiar, heated way, but it’s different this time. This is no sweet young rush of love, or the first explorations of passion. This is deeper. Wrong, maybe. I don’t care; the feeling is unexpected, but I understand it.
It’s when you choose something. You recognize something.
I think Jasper appreciates me, but it’s going to be a long time before I can fully trust someone, isn’t it? It would be stupid to think I could leave one relationship and dive into another.
Right?
“Thank you so much for saying that. Saying and doing all the right things.”
“Look, sweatpants and underwear were simple. I just guessed a size medium and clicked. I’m going to need help with anything I missed.”
“You bought out the baby section of the internet,” I tease.
“Well, I’m going to buy out the mommy section now. Damn it, that sounded wrong, too.”
I reach for his hand and realize I’ve been doing it all day, as a gesture of comfort, of leaning on someone stronger. Right now, it feels almost affectionate.
“I think you’re awesome and generous. I won’t need much more.”
“I have so much to give,” he says, and I know he isn’t talking about shopping.
“You do. You really do.”
“So do you. For the right—” Jasper’s voice shuts off suddenly, mouth snapping shut. “Uh. My laptop is on my desk. I can bring it to you.”
“I could shop in here with you, so we don’t wake Arianna?” I suggest.
“Good plan.”
NOVEMBER NIGHTS AREcold up here.
I ask if Loretta would like a fire while she browses. I almost ask about wine, but change it to milk and cookies.
My God, the look she gave me could burn through an iron pair of briefs.
“Want to see a movie?” I ask when I come back up to find Loretta shutting the laptop after ordering a few necessities I missed. I let myself pretend that this is the way it will be. My wife and I, hanging out in the nice, big bedroom, television on low, fireplace crackling, snacks in hand.
Bed beckoning.
But not every night, of course.
When Loretta finishes her snack and the last of some old musical comedy dies away, her head droops. I wait for a little bit before scooping her up and carrying her across the hall to her bed. She wakes up, sees it’s me, and doesn’t flinch. She smiles sleepily.
“Night, Jasper.”
“Night, Loretta.”
“Thank you again. A million, billion thank yous,” she whispers. Her fingers hold onto my sleeve. “I can’t repay you somehow?”
I shake my head. “You can start work tomorrow. You can start by babyproofing the living room, and then dragging Christmas stuff out of the storage room. Might as well set up the decorations while I have someone around to enjoy them.”
Loretta nods.
