Page 74 of Learning at 40

“And what? Now you want to build an eight-foot fence around the place or place a bubble around me?” I exhale. I can’t even address the fence issue yet. “Zack, you need to forgive him.”

“Never,” he hisses in that toughened voice he used upon our first meeting.

“Do you remember me telling you that love and gratitude are not the same thing?” Zack’s eyes meet mine. “Maybe you can’t love him again. Maybe it’s not an option, as you say, because you don’t know him, but you need to come to terms with having him at one point in your life. You need to be grateful for the father you had when you had him.”

“He took everything away.”

“He did.” I sigh again. “But now it’s time to forgive him. Forgiveness isn’t for the faint at heart; only the weak can’t forgive.” The world according to Grandfather number two point three seven nine.

“I don’t think I can.” His voice lowers, as does his head.

“You’ll be a better father if you do,” I whisper, knowing that doesn’t explain it well enough, but Zack needs to let go of his anger at his own father to open himself up better to his boys.

“I don’t know how,” he states, even lower. His lips twist, and if I didn’t know he was forty-one, I’d guess him to be all of seventeen with his hesitant, strained expression.

“Maybe just talk to him. Or better yet, listen.” My grandfather would say talk is cheap, but listening doesn’t cost anything. However, I hold back that Grandpa-ism. Comparing something to money might not be appropriate for Zack’s situation.

“Quincy wanted to make amends with his children as he lay dying. His children didn’t. They have to live with the loss of him all over again. They’ll never have answers because they couldn’t listen to him.” I sigh, thinking this comparison isn’t getting through to Zack any better. I don’t want him to regret never hearing his father’s side of the story. I don’t want him to be bitter like Daniel Quincy.

Zack closes his eyes for a second. “Can we not talk about my dad right now?” His exhale warns me that he has a lot going on in that head of his, and he can only tackle one issue at a time.

I have my own questions.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, wondering why he left his boys, drove across the state, and stands before me this late at night.

“I had things on my mind.”

“Like what?” I whisper.

He licks his lower lip and bites the corner. “Why did you do it, stubborn woman? Why did you pay for the fence removal?”

“I don’t need you to pay for things. You don’t owe me. You aren’t indebted to me. Not apologies, not gratitude, nor any other thing you’ve worked up in your head.”

“I just want to take care of you.” His face shifts, his expression confused.

“Then take care of me.” I point at my chest, and Zack’s eyes follow the motion. “I don’t need your money. I only want you.”

His fingers reach for my jaw, and his mouth lowers, brushing over mine as they did during our first kiss. He’s holding back again.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want,” I whisper against his mouth after another swipe-of-a-kiss I hope to never receive again. This isn’t my Zack. This isn’t how we kiss. As much as he needs to learn about respecting boundaries, he also needs to learn it’s okay to want things. All he needs to do is ask for them. Hell, even take it in this situation. Take the kiss.

He reads my thoughts, and his mouth crashes to mine. Teeth and tongue. Lips and licks. We meld together in apology, forgiveness, and desire. His hands drop to my hips, and he lifts me to the countertop. My knees spread, and he steps into the space, pressing us together while our mouths continue to speak for us. His hands return to my jaw, and mine wrap around his head. For a moment, it feels like there’s no beginning or end between us. We are one, and this is love. A circle that goes round and round, in dips and lifts, spinning, spinning, spinning.

He called it flying instead of falling, and I love the difference. Flying feels freeing while falling sounds fearful. I’m not afraid to love him.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I say, needing our circle more complete. Our connection to be deeper.

Zack helps me down from the counter, and I lead the way. If he wants to inspect the house, investigate as we go, he doesn’t. His gaze is on me as I cross the family room and head up the staircase. Down the hall, we go to the last door. I pause outside the room, knowing this was once Zack’s parents’ space.

“Will you be okay going in there?”

“I’ll be okay, as long as anywhere we go, you’re by my side. I’ve already lived too long without you, and I don’t want another day to pass without us together.”

“You’re getting better at this compromise thing,” I tease.

“I’m better because of you.”

At his words, I leap upward, and he catches me under my thighs. Wrapping my legs around his waist, he steps forward, and I turn the knob at my back. We enter the room with Zack’s mouth on mine. He stumbles. He trips, and then we’re both floating down to the bed. I bounce on the mattress and giggle while Zack catches himself over me.