With You and Without You by Deborah J. Wolf

Author:Deborah J. Wolf [Wolf, Deborah J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2014-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

24

I ask Michael to stay. Just like that, it rolls right out of my mouth without any premeditated thought.

“Just stay with me tonight. Please,” I say to him when a silence falls between us.

We’ve moved inside. Michael’s wrapped in a towel at his waist; I’m clutching mine tight in both hands, wrapped around my body, like a child clinging to her favorite blanket.

Michael’s back is to me when I say this; I can’t see the expression on his face. He’s reaching into the refrigerator for bottled water and when he turns and hands me mine, all he says is, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Sarah’s gone, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then, yes. Please. I don’t care where you sleep, you can have your pick of rooms. I’m just not ready for you to go home and I don’t want to be here alone.”

“I’ve got to go to work in the morning. I’ve got a breakfast meeting at eight.”

“Okay.”

We’re staring each other down, each of us daring the other to take an out. Neither of us makes a move.

“You running in the morning?” he asks me, twisting off the cap on his bottle and taking a long swig.

“Probably.” I’m still standing on the large square kitchen tile floor, towel wrapped tight around me, and shivering now.

“Okay. I’ve got to be out of here by six so I can make it home, shower, change. You promise me you’ll get up and run, I’ll stay.”

“Fine.” I start down the hall toward the stairs. “I’m showering. Do you need anything?” He’s watching me from behind. I can feel his eyes on my back, and when I turn to see if he does, he’s braced against the countertop, arms crossed against his chest and smiling.

“Nope. I’ll shower down here.” He pauses then before saying, “In the guest room.”

I laugh, my voice trailing after me as I take the stairs.

When I reappear, my hair combed back and wet against the back of my sweatshirt, Michael’s watching CNN, stretched lengthwise on the soft leather sofa. He’s so long his feet touch the armrest on the far side of the couch. I stand under the arched doorway separating the family room from the hallway, watch him set intently on the television, until my stare and the shuffle from my slippered feet make him turn and look at me.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Do you want to watch something with me?” He starts to sit up and change his position on the sofa.

“Don’t,” I say, holding up a hand to him. “Don’t move. You look so comfortable. Can I come lie with you?” I shut the overhead light off, leaving a reading lamp on so that it’s not completely dark when I stumble over to him.

He moves over to make his body as slim as it can be on the couch, leaves a spot for me, and I walk over and fold myself into the space he’s left. We fit together nicely, comfortably. He flips through the channels before turning the television off altogether.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Uh-uh.”

I kick off

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