Page 150 of Reeves

"I can take him." Reeves doesn't hesitate. "Sorry I didn't wake up earlier. Didn't consider that my phone might die."

I reach out to swat his shoulder, aiming for a playful nudge, but my palm stays against the cotton longer than necessary. The warmth of his skin underneath registers before I pull away.

"I know you can do better than that, soldier," I say with a smile.

I walk to the kitchen, and Reeves follows. I hear a thud as he drops his bag on the floor in the living room. Benjy runs in immediately after, jumping into his seat at the island.

I put a bowl of Gorilla Munch cereal in front of him and add the milk.

"The school is on Percy Street," I tell Reeves, grabbing a sticky note out of the junk drawer and writing the address. "Turn right at the stop sign, then it's the second building on your left. Drop-off line starts at seven-thirty."

"Got it."

I glance at the clock. Seven-fifteen. "His teacher is Ms. Lin and she will be in the drop-off line."

I look at Benjy. "Make sure you help Reeves know which one is Ms. Lin. You know not to get out until a teacher?—"

"Charli." His voice holds quiet amusement. "I can handle it."

"Oh, the booster seat." I start toward the garage door, but Reeves catches my wrist gently.

"It's still there. We're good. I promise."

Benjy inhales his cereal and slides down from the stool. "Ready!"

I kiss the top of his head, breathing in that little-boy smell of sleep and strawberry shampoo. "Have a good day, baby. Listen to Ms. Lin."

"I will." He looks up at Reeves expectantly. "Come on!"

They head toward the door together, Benjy's small hand reaching for Reeves's larger one without hesitation. And they're off. And I'm left to try to understand how I feel about the father of my son taking him to school instead of me.

I stand in my kitchen, still wearing my robe, listening to the Hummer's engine fade down the street. Once the truck is out of sight, there's nothing.

The silence presses against my ears in a way it never has before.

I've stood in this kitchen alone thousands of mornings. After Benjy leaves for school, after my parents pick him up for the day, after bedtime stories and tucked-in kisses. This quiet used to feellike space to breathe. Room to think my own thoughts without little hands tugging at me or questions I need to answer.

Now, I'm not sure how to describe it.

I wrap my arms around myself, the terry cloth robe suddenly too thin. My reflection catches in the window over the sink. Hair tangled, eyes wide, mouth slightly swollen.

I turn away from the window and head toward my bedroom. The unmade bed stops me cold. Sheets twisted and pulled free from the corners. My pillow still holds the indent where Reeves's head rested.

His pants are still balled up at the bottom.

The memory hits before I can block it. The weight of his body. The way his fingers slowly traced around my entire body.

I should make it, but I'm not ready to confront all of that right now. So I leave it and walk into the bathroom.

The shower calls to me like a sanctuary. I twist the handles, waiting for the water to heat, then let my robe drop to the floor.

Steam rises around me as I step under the spray. The water pounds against my shoulders, my back, washing away the night sweat and the lingering scent of him that clings to my hair.

I close my eyes and try to think about normal things. Benjy's summer musical in two weeks. The insurance forms on my desk. Grocery shopping for dinner.

But my body won't cooperate.

Every nerve ending still remembers. The scrape of his stubble against my shoulder. The way his mouth moved down my collarbone. How his fingers pressed into the curve of my waist, holding me like I might disappear.