I kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep, liking being tucked into Hector’s heat on the couch.
After my latest trauma was finally over, Hector took me to his house and not, as I reckoned, to refinish the floors. He took me straight to his bedroom and we had the best sex ever in the history of man (in my personal opinion).
Then, there was no other way to describe it, he pretty much passed out.
I stayed with him for hours as he slept. Sometimes, I’d doze. Sometimes, I’d daydream. Sometimes, I’d kiss his chest or neck while he slept. But mostly, I just got used to feeling warm and safe and happy.
He woke up when Buddy called, inviting us to dinner.
We showered (yes, together!), he “did” me in the shower again and then we laid in bed, him wearing his cutoff sweats, me wearing one of his flannels and my panties and him holding me while I called the prison to talk to my father.
Cordell had already reported that I was all right. The conversation was short and uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say, neither did my father. After, even though I tried not to, I cried again, quietly into Hector’s neck. He held me while I did that then held me after I was done.
We got dressed, went to Ralphie and Buddy’s, Hector and I took YoYo for a long walk, we had an early dinner then we crashed in front of the TV to watch Veronica Mars.
This time, I burrowed into Hector’s side without prompting and put my feet into Ralphie’s lap for a massage. Neither man disappointed, Hector’s arm curled around my shoulders, Ralphie’s hands were pure heaven.
After awhile, I fell asleep.
Now, as I laid tucked into his hard body, my head on his chest, I was deciding that this was my third best day ever.
“Mamita, I know you’re awake.” Hector’s voice rumbled over my head at the same time it rumbled in my ear that was pressed to his chest.
I pushed up and twisted to look at him, my hand pulling my hair out of my face.
He looked rough. He needed a haircut even though he’d just had one. His stubble was back even though he’d shaved only ten hours ago. He was wearing a tight, long-sleeved, army-drab t-shirt and faded jeans.
And he never looked better.
“We gotta talk,” he said, his voice firm, serious and slightly ominous.
My body froze and I felt a small spiral of fear in my belly.
“About what?”
“About you and me.”
Oh no.
No.
Somebody, tell me, no.
Here it was.
I knew it.
I just knew it.
I pushed further away but his arm slid up my back, catching under my shoulder blades, he curled it at the same time pushing himself to a less lounging position on the couch and twisting me so I was in his lap.
Then he started talking.
“I got a few things to say. I know you’ve had a rough time but it’s better this shit is out and you understand.”
I stared at him, mentally girding, preparing for the worst. Namely, it being over. Namely, me being too much trouble. Namely, him losing interest and moving on to the next Sadie or Natalie or whatever.
With these dire thoughts in my head, mentally girded, I nodded.
Might as well get it over with and then revisit my opportunities in Crete.
I wasn’t going to pack beach towels. I was going to fill my luggage with Kleenex.
“First off, I want you movin’ in, not in a few months, now. I want you in my bed, I want you in my house, I wanna come home to you.”
I blinked in shock, mainly because what he said was shocking and not at all what I expected.
“What?” I breathed
“You heard me.”
I blinked again then, for some fool reason, I asked, “Don’t you think we should, I don’t know… date? At least for awhile. You know, like normal people.”
His mouth started moving like he was fighting a grin and I felt my blood pressure rise. “Mi amor, you are definitely not normal people and this is definitely not a normal relationship.”
I decided to ignore that and went on, again foolishly, “It’s too soon.”
“I’ve known you over a year,” he returned.
“We’ve only been together two weeks!”
His voice got low and his mouth stopped moving like he was fighting a grin, clearly Mr. Mood Swing’s mood was swinging. “Mujer, we been together a lot longer than that and you know it.”
I had to admit, he had a point.
And he wanted me to move in with him!
Yay!
I smiled, mentally ungirding, I snuggled closer and said softly, “Okay.”
His body, which I hadn’t realized was tense, relaxed under mine and his hand sifted into the hair at the side of my head, his fingers curling around my skull.
“Now that’s decided, we gotta talk about your money.”
I should have regirded.
Instead, in Innocent and Happy About to Move in with Hector World, I asked, “My money?”
He nodded.
“What about it?”
“You just agreed to move in, that means you just agreed to officially becoming my woman. I take care of my woman. I pay the mortgage, I pay the bills, I fix up the house. We go out, I pay. Your money is for you. I take care of us.”
Now hang on a ding darn minute.
My body went straight.