I can’t handle it. I never want it to end.
“I mean it, Jack,” she says emphatically, coming to a stop at the back edge of the dance floor. “I don’t know how I haven’t noticed it before. You’re…unreal.”
“Alright, pretty girl, I think it’s time we get you home,” I say evasively, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Get you some water, some comfy clothes, a hundred baby kisses.”
“I miss her,” she says, eyes watering. “And I feel guilty for having fun. And for…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but her eyes drop to my mouth, then back up to lock on mine.
“And for what?”
“For feeling like this,” she says quietly.
Without warning, she stands up on her toes and places a soft kiss to my lips–tentatively, like dipping your toes in the pool to see how cold the water is.
She must decide the water’s fine, because she does it again, more firmly this time, hands sliding up and around my neck.
This is everything I want, my wildest dream come true.
She’s also tipsy, and emotional, and vulnerable. And you’re…there. Don’t be selfish. Don’t make this about you.
Even though every part of me is screaming not to, I put my hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away and taking a step back.
“Oh shit,” she whispers, eyes going wide with shock. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay,” I say, voice straining with the pain of accepting that this isn’t real, that it’s simply a product of alcohol and loneliness, and not anything more. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you home.”
Without another word, we head back to the booth to grab our things, giving rushed goodbyes to our friends before stepping into the cool night air. We stay silent as we walk to my car, as we drive home, as we go through the front door.
Granny gushes over Erin, how much fun they had and how easily she went to bed. She and Abby discuss every way Erin is perfect in great detail, at length, before I finally interrupt them.
“Thanks for coming over Granny,” I say a little too loudly. “I know Abby really appreciates it.”
“Well, I hope you two had fun,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“It wasn’t just us, it was the whole group,” I counter.
“But we did have soooo much fun,” Abby sighs happily, her voice slurring slightly.
Granny chuckles, patting her on the cheek before turning to kiss mine.
“Come over soon, Jack dear,” she says, quiet enough for just the two of us. “I think we have some things to discuss.”
“There’s nothing to talk about Granny,” I whisper furiously. “Nothing at all.”
She hums, hoisting her bag on her shoulder and turning the knob on the door.
“We’ll see about that.”
She leaves it at that, mercifully, and I turn around to find Abby gone, a ruckus in her room letting me know that she’s changing her clothes, and with great effort apparently.
She pads out of her room in an oversized shirt that hangs halfway down her thighs, her auburn curls released from the half-ponytail that had been pulling them back. She curls her index finger, beckoning me toward Erin’s nursery.
We stand in the doorway silently, watching our tiny pretty girl sleeping peacefully.
Her girl. Not yours. There is no “ours”.
“I’m sorry about before,” she murmurs.
I’m not.
