The bedroom door is open, and I stand in the doorway for a moment. It’s not hard to see down here. Kenna installed several nightlights around the whole apartment. My eyes fall on the air mattress up against the far wall with Amelia’s small form curled around a stuffed Horton, sleeping as peacefully as a child should.
A sound pulls my attention to the bed. Kenna is tossing and turning, and I can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep. I assume the latter, or she probably would have screamed at the shadow of a man in her doorway.
I shouldn’t be down here.
Despite the warning in my head, I cross the room to the bed and sit on the edge of it.
Her eyes open at the shift of weight. She blinks repeatedly, probably expecting to see Amelia beside her, not me. Her gaze immediately darts to her daughter’s side of the room then back to me. When she goes to speak, I put a finger on her lips. “Shhhh.” Then my hands snake underneath her and I hoist her off the bed and into my arms.
Part of me expects her to protest. Squirm out of my hold. Slap me across the face even.
She doesn’t do any of those things. Probably because Amelia is a mere six feet away.
When her head nuzzles between my neck and shoulder, however, I feel like the most powerful man in the world. I kiss the top of her head and carry her upstairs to my bedroom.
Only the dim light from my bathroom makes her visible to me as I place her on my bed. I go around and crawl in beside her. Not on top of her. Not straddling her. I’ve never had a more gorgeous woman in my bed, one I’ve wanted with every fiber of my being, yet surprisingly, at this moment, I’m not craving sex. I just want to look at her.Behere for her.
Her eyes are open and she’s staring right back at me. There are no words exchanged. No touches shared. No expectations.
With the bathroom light behind me, I’m not sure she can see my eyes. But I sure as hell can see hers. And they tell me the opposite of what her words have. That she wants this. Wants me. That she’s comfortable in my home. My bed. My embrace. That she doesn’twantto leave, but must.
It’s the last thought that has me breaking the silence.
I rub her soft-as-sin shoulder. “You want to talk about it?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“Okay. Tell me something else then.”
“Tell you what?”
I shrug. “Let’s start with an easy one. What’s your favorite movie?”
Her mouth morphs into a sleepy grin. “Wow, you’re really crossing the line there, Carter.”
“I’ll go first then.The Hangoveris great. It’s my feel-good movie when I need a laugh. Then there’sShawshank Redemption.It’s the one I always stop and watch when I’m flipping through channels.”
“I have one of those.Thelma and Louise.”
“The one about the two women on the run who drive off a cliff at the end?That’syour favorite movie?” I shake my head. “I don’t know, Kenna. That’s pretty twisted.”
“It’s not about the plot or the ending. I’ve just always wanted a friend like that. The ride-or-die friend I read about in books. I’ve never had someone I was that close to.”
Me, my head screams.I want to be that person.
It would be idiotic to say, and would for sure have her racing back downstairs, so instead, I ask, “What about Tina? The friend from the dance parties?”
Her eyes become sad. “We had a falling out last year.”
“I’m sorry. And there aren’t any others?”
“Are you asking me if I have any friends, Carter?”
“Maybe. I mean, I have noticed that you’re never on your phone. I figured you for kind of a loner.”
She huffs. “I never set out to be. It just sort of happened.”
“Back to movies,” I say to lighten the mood. “IsThelma and Louiseyour feel-good movie as well as the one that stops your channel surfing?”
