Warmth swells behind my breastbone. I slide off my stool and move to him to hug him. His strong arms come around me, so safe and secure.
“You know what I wanted to do?” he murmurs.
“What?”
“I wanted to rip that phone out of your hand and tell your grandma to fuck right off. But in more polite language.”
A laugh bubbles in my throat.
“Like, please fuck off.”
The laugh breaks free. “But you didn’t. I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I lift my head to look at him, his face wearing a pleased expression.
“I also want to drive over to Uncle Ernie’s and give Ernie shit.” His expression is rueful. “But I won’t do that either. Unless you want me to?”
I grin. “That’s okay.”
“I know I can’t fix all your problems.” He gently pushes my bangs out of my eyes. “But I promise you won’t ever face them alone.”
30
AYLA
I look around my new “office”. Or study space, I guess.
We’ve been working on redecorating this room that was Kane’s for the last month and it’s almost done.
Pink is my favorite color and the first thing I found was a beautiful blush-pink velvet office chair. It’s not just pretty, it’s ergonomic, so I’ll be comfortable here studying for hours. Oh my God. Do I have it in me to study for hours?
I guess I’ll find out.
So I designed the rest of the room around that chair. We got a built-in desk and storage cabinets custom made for the room, which are white with a marble desktop. I have a loveseat upholstered in shades of pale pink, green, and cream in the corner. The walls are the palest blush pink with framed prints. Long cream drapes frame the window overlooking the backyard and I have several gold planters with lush plants sitting in front of that window. Bookshelves line the wall above the desk and I’ve already arranged some of my books from college there.
Right now, I’m unpacking the desk accessories I ordered—all gold and pink. I arrange the pen holder and pens, the pinkmousepad for my computer, a pink candle because I have to have candles, and pink coasters for my coffee cups.
I spin in my chair.
I like it.
I still sometimes worry that I’m “erasing” memories of Kane. But memories live inside me, not in a room. I still have photographs and mementos of him, like the first little sleeper he wore and the tiny hat and socks. I have a bunch of framed photographs of him on the counter and the walls, and framed baby footprints. I’ll never forget him.
I hear Carson come in and I jump up and run downstairs.
“Oh, good, you’re back.”
“Hey, angel.” He flicks through the mail he brought in and drops it on the console table.
“The chairs for my office arrived.” I point at the two boxes sitting just inside the living room.
“Oh, great.”
“Can you help me build them?”
He plants a big smooch on my lips. “Okay, but you’ll owe me sexual favors.”
