by Indra Vaughn
“Likewise,” I managed.
“What were you going to ask?”
“If . . . if you wanted to go downstairs and watch some TV.” I swallowed hard and bit my lip. “And maybe cuddle.”
He broke into a slow smile. “Is that all?” He moved infinitesimally closer. He had faint freckles on his nose, a very small scar running through his left eyebrow that I’d never noticed before. Something inside me gave way.
“No,” I said and gripped his T-shirt. “No, it’s not.”
His hand tightened on the back of my neck and we shared—right there in front of the room where his child slept, in this house where I had dreamed of a future with Sam—a real first kiss I would never forget. We slipped together like lock and key. My mouth fit to his so perfectly, it was as if we’d been kissing our whole lives.
Without a second thought I opened up for him, and his arms tightened around me. All I could think was yes as, for a few blissful seconds, my body and mind let go of the grief. Sam was with me, for the briefest of moments, and then his warmth was gone. I didn’t need it anymore.
Thomas moaned softly as I shifted, pushing closer. That little sound nearly undid me, because I heard what it meant for him too. I felt how his large body trembled, and the happiness in me grew so huge I could hardly stand it.
When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to mine and petted my hair, running his fingers through the strands as if he’d wanted to do that for a long time.
“Wow, Ollie,” he whispered, laughing softly. “That was really . . .”
“Yeah,” I said, my mouth throbbing a little. “I would definitely be in favor of moving this to the couch and doing more of it. TV can be on or off, I don’t actually care.”
He gave me a look like he thought maybe the couch bit was optional too, and the carpet right here would do fine, thank you, but he angled his body in such a way that I immediately understood it wasn’t going to happen. He stroked my arms at the same time, so I tried not to feel rejected. He sighed.
“I really want to, Ollie. But for one thing—” he nodded at the baby monitor he’d dropped and I hadn’t even noticed “—and for another, I kind of want to take this slow right now. There’s too much . . .” He shook his head. “I’ve wanted this for too long,” he whispered. “I can’t fuck this up.”
“Aw, Thomas.” I cupped his cheeks and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “You’re not going to fuck this up. But slow is good. You have enough change going on in your life right now.”
“Okay.” He pulled me against him and hugged me. “I meant it though. You’re amazing.”
I closed my eyes and smiled against his chest even as I reminded myself that letting my hands drift down to cop a little feel of his nice, pert ass would ruin the moment.
We parted in the hallway, and he went into his bedroom while I went down to wait for Mom.
She got back around ten and sat beside me on the couch. From the way she said nothing for a long time, I knew she actually had a lot to say, and I could sort of guess what direction her thoughts were taking.
Just as I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, she said, “If you do this, you can’t go into it without considering all the consequences. Not when there’s a child involved. You haven’t been in a relationship since Sam, and it might hurt in the beginning. So if you decide to go for it . . . make sure you know this is really what you want.” She took my hand in hers and squeezed it.
“He’s great though, isn’t he?” I asked.
When I looked at her, she had tears in her eyes, but they only made her smile shine even more. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got it bad,” she said, and laughed. “Go to bed, because tomorrow will be another long day.”
“Did Thomas ask you about the babysitting?”
“Yes, he did. And of course I’ll do it.” She kissed my temple and rose to her feet. “Night Oliver.”
“Night, Mom.”
Exhaustion seeped into my bones as I brushed my teeth and changed clothes. I sneaked between the covers, too tired to even do something about the hard-on I was carrying around.
Sometime during the night I did think I heard the baby crying, but I slipped right back into sleep until morning.
Milo woke up everyone at once early that Sunday morning. While I’d barely heard him during the night, that siren wail at 6 a.m. was unavoidable. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and ratty T-shirt to make coffee for whoever was on diaper duty—because it wouldn’t be me—and bumped into a bleary-eyed Thomas who was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a tiny baby pressed to his naked chest. If I had ovaries, I’d have been instantly pregnant.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mom said. I hadn’t even noticed her standing there. “Thomas, I’ll get Milo changed. You grab a shower and put a shirt on before Oliver spontaneously combusts.”
My face went so hot I thought it might actually catch fire. I mumbled something about coffee as I hurried down the stairs. Mom followed at a more sedate pace. She wrestled Milo into a new diaper and change of clothes as if he weren’t screaming the house down. My left eyelid kept twitching, and for the first time since I’d lived in the house, I worried about the neighbors.
“You hold him while I make his bottle,” Mom said, then pushed a crying Milo into my arms.
“Okay, little man,” I said, wishing Thomas would hurry the hell up. “It’s okay. Your bottle will be here soon.” I shushed him in any way I could think of—singing, bouncing, making silly facing, putting him down, picking him up—but he was inconsolable. By the time the bottle was ready, I’d lost part of the hearing in my left ear.
Since I was holding Milo and his mouth was wide open anyway, I decided to pop the bottle right in there. His mouth closed, his eyes flew open, and his cheeks began to work like a hungry chipmunk’s.
“Hey,” Thomas said a minute later, looking freshly scrubbed and completely scrumptious. He glanced toward the kitchen and dropped a quick kiss on my mouth. “I tried to hurry.”
“It’s fine. He’s happy now.” I looked down at Milo. “And don’t worry about my mom. She figured it out last night.”
Thomas gave me a wide-eyed look as he sat down beside me. His hand went to my leg, and he stroked me lightly. “How?”
I shrugged. “She knows me too well.”
“What did she say?”
“To be careful. It’s not just you and me now.”
“No,” Thomas said, his gaze drifting to Milo, who was happily scarfing his formula down. “It’s not.”
“She also wants me to be happy,” I said. “So there’s that.”
He gave me a sweet smile. I put my head on his shoulder when he scooted closer. Tentatively he put his arm around me. “Will it be weird, you think?”
“You and me? It didn’t feel weird last night.”
He made a small noise, then turned his face to nose my hair. “No,” he whispered. “It really didn’t.”
I wanted to stay like that forever, but I needed to burp Milo, and he needed entertaining, and by the time he went down for his morning nap, I was still in my sweatpants and ready for a nap of my own. Mom had made breakfast, and I told them to help themselves while I quickly showered.
Sunday had always been us time, and over the past year it had been me time, and yet once I had showered, changed, and turned human again, I didn’t mind it one bit that my house was filled with people. Mom was sitting on the couch while Thomas lay on the floor, with Milo in tummy time on the colorful little blanket.
“Go on,” Thomas was saying. “You can do it!”
Milo lifted his head, tried to look around until it began to wobble, stuck out his tongue, and put his head down again. Mom and Thomas applauded, and I looked at them like they were aliens.
“What a strong boy,” Mom cooed. “Yes, you are. Such a strong little boy.”
I bent down and said to Milo, “Now they’re cheering for you carrying the weight of your own head. Next thing you know, bringing home straight As won’t even get
you a congratulations.”
“That was one time!” Mom cried, and I laughed and danced out of the way as she tried to pinch my arm. “I had a lot on my mind.”
I pressed my hand to my chest. “Scarred,” I told her. “Scarred for life.”
“Go get your breakfast, you,” she huffed.
I caught Thomas smiling at me and fled before Mom saw me being all moony-eyed at him. She’d never let me live it down.
The rest of Sunday was relaxing and hectic at once. We went through bursts of madness when everything had to happen at once and we were all scrambling to entertain the little fella. Then suddenly we had to have an absolutely quiet house as he slept.
In the afternoon we finally tried out the stroller as Mom made another trip home.
“So are you back to work tomorrow?” I asked Thomas.
“Just for the morning,” he said. “Tuesday and Wednesday I have to go in all day, and I have Thursday afternoon and Friday off. I’m on call for the weekend though. The on-calls are planned ages in advance, and I couldn’t get out of that.”
“It’s fine. Mom and I will be here.”
Thomas took one hand off the stroller and slipped it into mine. “Thank you.”
“Sure.” I took a deep, slow breath. I knew that Sam’s death hadn’t been a hate crime, but I still felt exposed for some reason. I’d never cared about who saw me out and proud before, so it didn’t make sense to be jumpy now. I pushed it aside. It was fine. I squeezed Thomas’s hand and kept walking.
“What about you?” he asked. “Working all week?”
“Not on Wednesday afternoon. The trial starts.”
“Oh no, Ollie.” Thomas stopped the stroller and peered down. Milo was taking in his new surroundings with big eyes. Reassured, Thomas looked back at me. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry. I promised I’d go with you and now . . .”
Everyone had forgotten, including me. I tried to ignore the hollow anxiety gnawing at my gut.
“That was before the sudden-baby moment. I understand, Thomas. Seriously, don’t feel bad about it.” I knew I couldn’t come first, and I’d have to be okay with that or we’d have no future.
I turned away, but Thomas tugged at my arm. He looked into my eyes for a long moment and winced a little. “But I do. I’m really sorry I forgot.” He rubbed his thumbs over my cheekbones, and I swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to go through that alone.”
“You’ll be there when I get home, won’t you?” I asked. Thomas said nothing, just put his arms around me, and I buried my face against his chest. He smelled so good, so familiar, I couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what he smelled of. He was . . . Thomas.
“Of course I will be,” he said.
Milo made an impatient noise, and we resumed our walk.
“If he wakes up more than once tonight, I can change him,” I told Thomas. “You have to work too tomorrow. We should split the awake time.”
“You don’t have to do that. And besides, as long as he only wakes up once, I can deal with it.”
“I’m going to leave my door open regardless,” I said, and flushed when I realized that sounded like an invitation. Thomas didn’t bat an eye though, so we clearly weren’t in that stage of our budding relationship yet.
Secretly, I hoped it wouldn’t take too long.
It took forever. By Wednesday we still hadn’t had the chance to do more than kiss each other quickly and surreptitiously on the mouth. For supposedly sleeping fourteen hours a day, babies were awake a hell of a lot. Between work, baby, more work, more baby, a quiet minute here and there with Thomas, and my mom keeping us company, I suddenly found myself sitting in the stuffy courthouse before I felt ready for it. I’d barely slept the night before, thanks to Milo waking up four times for unfathomable reasons, and I didn’t feel too confident about being there.
Because the whole thing had been caught on CCTV, I hadn’t had to do more than sign a statement, but I did not look forward to being in the same room as the killer for however long. For some reason, I’d imagined the place would be packed, but apart from me there were a few journalist types and other bored-looking people who could have been waiting their turn for all the interest they showed.
The guy’s name was Kurt Boons, alleged meth addict, and the minute he walked in, I went tense all over. My knee began to bounce, my heart slammed, and my clothes became glued to my skin with cold, nauseous sweat. I sat there for an hour and a half, unable to hear a thing the judge said because of the blood roaring in my ears.
Kurt had trouble sitting still. I could only see his back, but he was fidgeting restlessly the whole time. A few times his lawyer leaned across and said something to him, and then Kurt would remain motionless for a little while, but before long he’d start up again.
I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if he regretted taking a life. If he even remembered. I wondered if he ever thought of the consequences, the gaping hole the murder he committed had left behind.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed out. Someone tried to stop me at the door, but I tore myself free and reached the bathroom just before I lost my lunch.
I’m sorry, Sam, I thought. I can’t do this.
Who did it benefit anyway? Not Sam, that was for sure. I didn’t want to exact any revenge on this guy. It wouldn’t bring Sam back. They caught the killer. Hopefully whatever punishment he received would prevent him from causing this amount of grief to anyone else. That was all I cared about.
I washed my face and patted it dry with paper towels, ready to go home. For a split second I wished I were going back to an empty house, if only for an hour or so, to soothe this thumping headache.
As I aimed for the door, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Another email from Stan. My heart fluttered anxiously in my throat as I opened it up.
Oliver,
They declined our offers of forty and forty-five percent. Are you still ready and able to go ahead with the buy-out at fifty?
Regards,
Stan
I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, too defeated to stand on my own. What would Sam say if he knew what my relationship with his parents had become? Shouldn’t I have tried harder to remain on good terms with them?
For a split second I wanted to email Stan back, tell him to let them have it. I was exhausted. But I thought of Milo and Thomas in that beautiful house, how maybe, just maybe, the three of us could turn it into the home of a warm, loving family someday, as it was meant to be. I knew I couldn’t let go yet.
I’ll pay the fifty percent, I emailed back, then gathered my strength and went outside.
The courthouse was a gorgeous building on the south side of Antwerp, and I adored the design. It always reminded me a little of the Sydney Opera House, although in this case the sharp peaks represented sails as a nod toward the international harbor. Regardless, when I stepped outside, it felt like I was escaping the bowels of the darkest dungeon.
I could’ve taken a tram home, but the day was bright and warm, so I walked instead. It did me good to be alone with nothing but my own thoughts, and when I finally opened my front door, the house was quiet.
I found Mom in the backyard, reading a book.
“Oh, hello. How did it go?” She took one look at my face and stood up to hug me hard. “Tell me you don’t have to go back. Don’t go back, Oliver. This isn’t helping anyone.”
“No, I pretty much came to that conclusion myself. I don’t even know if this was the only day in court. I don’t care. I’m done with it. And I’ll tell Sam’s parents that if I have to.”
“It wasn’t fair of them to ask you to go.”
I sighed and gave Mom another one-armed hug. “They’re afraid people are going to forget Sam.”
She tsked. “Like you ever would. Just because you’re falling in love with someone else—” A wail interrupted her, thank God.
“Oh, hey, they’re back!” I said and sprang away from her to hurry into the house.
Thomas’s h
air was in disarray, and he had tight tension lines around his mouth as Milo screamed and screamed in his stroller. I quickly bent down to unstrap him and lifted him into my arms.
“Walkies before dinnertime, bad,” Thomas said, and I laughed even as my headache sharpened a little. Turning around, I handed Milo to Mom. I peeked up at Thomas, stood on the tips of my toes, and kissed his cheek. His eyes went wide. Behind me Mom laughed softly, and I heard her retreat.
“Well, hi,” Thomas said and began to draw me closer, but I pulled back.
“Um,” I said, covering my mouth. “I should probably brush my teeth first. I, uh, barfed at the courthouse today.”
“Oh, Ollie.” Thomas’s dark irises seemed to turn liquid with empathy. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. Do you have to go back?”
“No, I’m done with it now. No more.”
He pulled me into a hug so tight I could feel my ribs creak. I held him just as hard.
“Why don’t you go brush your teeth,” he murmured, his eyes on my mouth. “And then—”
And then Milo began crying louder. I laughed and patted his arm. “I’ll help you feed him and play with him, until we’re so exhausted we’ll fall asleep on the couch again. With all the sex we’re not having, it’s like we’re married.” I grinned but Thomas didn’t smile back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know this is a huge inconvenience. I want . . .” He looked at me in a way that made me wish I could pay my mom to babysit for a week so I could take him somewhere private and let him do all the things his eyes promised me.
“Be right back!” I squeaked and sprinted upstairs to hide in the bathroom for a while.
Mom was changing Milo when I came down, so I went into the kitchen to help Thomas with the bottle. We were getting the hang of it, but there was still a lot of peering at the schedule and carefully measuring the formula and double-checking all the settings on the bottle warmer.
“Does this get easier at all?” Thomas asked me as he mixed the powder and water.