Hold On

I held his eyes and gave a careful shake of my head so I wouldn’t lose his hand on me. “No. Ethan and me…the way things have been…how our lives are…” My quiet voice dropped quieter. “I only ever get his mornings guaranteed.”


“I get that, honey,” he repeated. “I stepped over a line. It might not have been right how you communicated that, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t right to be angry.”

I gave another cautious shake of my head. “No, I was totally out of line being that ugly.”

“Cher, you love your kid and that’s your time. Lots of shit is goin’ down, not the least of which I was pushin’ at a time when I should have been goin’ gently. You’re you. You reacted like you and like the mother you are. It happened. It’s done. You apologized and I’ve admitted I didn’t play that right. We’re movin’ on.”

That was good. I wanted that. I wanted us to move on. I wanted the quiet understanding he was giving me. I didn’t want him to be angry. I wanted him back in my life.

I also wanted to explore where his manner was saying we were going.

But what I needed was to get him to understand completely.

“It was ugly and it might have been right why I did it,” I told him. “But it was also wrong. Ethan talked to me about it and he liked havin’ you around.” I saw a flare in his eyes I liked, but I didn’t take time to let it register deep. I had to get this done, so I powered forward. “He liked you two doin’ somethin’ together to look out for me. He gets that I look out for him all the time and he’s a good kid. He wants me to have that sometimes too. And he liked doin’ that with you for me.”

Merry didn’t say anything, but he did glide his thumb along my cheek to edge the bottom of my lip and then back.

That meant he actually did say something, and what he said was unbelievably sweet.

I fought pressing my lips together or leaning in and pressing everything to him.

It was difficult, not only with his touch but the soft way he was looking at me. Another something from Merry I’d never gotten from another man in my life. And I was glad. I was ecstatic. Because staring into his eyes, getting that from him, if I knew that kind of thing existed and I went for days, weeks, years not having it aimed at me, I didn’t know if I could keep breathing.

This feeling caused me again to blurt out more words.

“I texted you the next day.”

I lost the look as his brows drew together in confusion.

“I didn’t send it,” I told him quickly. “I erased it. But I apologized. I explained. Then I erased it all.”

The look came back, and in those mere seconds from losing it to getting it back again, I became a junkie, knowing down to my bones I’d do anything—any-fucking-thing—to get that look as often as I could aimed at me.

So I kept fucking talking.

“I texted you more. I told you I’m worried I’m not feedin’ my kid right. I told you I tried to get him to eat carrots. I told you that didn’t work.”

Humor mingled with that look in his eyes and, fuck me, that was even better.

“I told you other stuff too,” I shared. “I texted you all the time, without texting you.”

“Glad you finally hit the right button, sweetheart.”

I actually hadn’t.

Or I didn’t think I had.

I was about to explain that to him when a knock came at my door.

I looked that way, and unfortunately, Merry dropped his hand as he twisted to look too.

We were in a part of the living room where I couldn’t see what was in the diamond window, and although the front curtains were opened, our angle didn’t show my stoop.

But I knew who it was. A package had been delivered yesterday for my neighbor on the other side, Bettina. I’d put a note in her storm door. Bettina worked a job where she had occasion to have some weekdays off.

She was probably coming to collect.

“That’s Bettina, my neighbor,” I told Merry, and he looked back at me. “A package was delivered for her.”

I tipped my head to the door where a thin but long and wide box was resting against the wall.

Merry looked, then returned his attention to me.

Another knock came at the door.

“I should give it to her.”