“You scared ofbein’ alone,honey?”he asked.
Man, it was crazy how well he knew me.
“A little,” I whispered.
He gently rolled me toward him so I was more full-frontalagainst his side, murmuring, “I got you.”
I closed my eyes tight.
I had not been “got” in a really long time.
I did not want to be one of those women who could not dowithout a man.
But I feared I was one of those women who couldn’t dowithout a man.
Or, alternately, I lost the man who had me my whole life,and like Mom said, I’d gone reeling.And at the time when I was ready toattempt to stand on my own two feet, God had thrown into my path the man whowas perfect for me.
But I was on a long, ugly roll of losing men that meantsomething to me.I’d barely survived the most important one.
What would happen if I lost the only one on this earth whowas perfect for me?
“It’s allgonnabe good, Rosie,”he said.
I really wished I could believe he was right.
“Okay, Snapper.”
“Go to sleep,” he ordered.
“All right, honey.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it go.
I kept my eyes closed (I just didn’t do that tight).
It didn’t take long before I fell asleep.
The pain in my ribs drove me to my back in the middle of thenight.
But now, here I was again, tucked to Snapper’s side with hishand resting on my hip.
“Awake?”Snap asked, his deep voice thick with sleep.
“It’s past dawn,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“And right now I’d totally kiss you if I’d grabbed mytoothbrush last night and wasn’t terrified of morning breath,” I declared.
I just got out the word “breath” before I found myselfhauled full on top of Snapper’s long, lean body and I was looking in Snapper’sdowny-snowy-sleepy eyes.
“I don’t give a fuck about morning breath,” he growled.
So be it.
I tilted my head.
And I kissed him.
