Page 40 of Parentmoon

“Same, darlin’.”

I can’t imagine there is much he hasn’t experienced, therefore me being a first for him at anything seems unbelievable. Other than being the only woman who has been here with him.

He also called our first kiss a once-in-a-lifetime experience, though, which was sweet. A woman could get used to words like that.

My heart is warning me not to.

And my sour mood knocks at my chest again, then steps inside me without permission.

+ + +

After showering, Dallas pulls a terrycloth robe out of the closet. “Put this on for a bit.” He doesn’t cover himself with the second one hanging in the closet but slips into another pair of athletic shorts and a tee.

We head for the kitchen, and he pours us each a glass of wine while I take a seat on one of the kitchen stools. After handing a glass to me, he lifts his own. “Now speak.”

“About what?”

“What had you in a mood today?” He watches me over the rim of his glass, eyes focused on me.

I shrug.

“Not good enough. Talk.”

“It’s silly.” I swipe at my wet hair, curling it over one ear as I glance at my wineglass where it still rests on the counter.

“I’m asking you to talk. That means I want to listen.”

“My mom called this morning.” My voice is quiet as I toy with the stem of the glass between my fingers. “It’s stupid how she can make me feel like a failure in my forties.”

“No one can make you feel like a failure. You take on that unnecessary feeling.”

While I understand what he means, it doesn’t make me feel better. “It’s just, sometimes, I wonder if she’s right. I failed at love and marriage. Maybe raising my child.”

I lift my glass, taking a hardy slug of wine. Dallas stares at me, assessing me from where he stands on the opposite side of the cabinet, strong arms spread, bracing him against the surface. To avoid the prying gaze, I look away and lower my glass to the counter.

“I call bullshit.” His tone is so fierce, I flinch. He continues, “A marriage takes two, like a dance, and someone stepped out of line in yours. It wasn’t you. As for raising your kid, Michael is a competent, responsible adult. That means he makes decisions, and mistakes, accordingly, but the sturdy foundation of him is there and it came from you.”

Dallas’s entire body vibrates with his explanation. One hand fists on the counter.

“Do you think the mistake was calling off a wedding or planning to get married in the first place?” I remember again that tonight would have been their rehearsal dinner.

“It isn’t up to me to decipher their mistakes. I’m here to listen and process, when asked, and I haven’t been asked. Keli doesn’t need my advice. I wasn’t ever engaged or married.”

“And why is that?” My fingers twirl the stem of my wineglass again, puzzled how a man like Dallas never committed to one woman.

The contours of Dallas’s firm cheeks harden, visibly upset by my asking and he looks away a second. He exhales and turns back to me, those blue eyes like mini lightsabers. “Because the woman I asked, turned me down. Told me I wasn’t enough.”

My breath catches. “Impossible.” I hiss, stilling my hand, fingers tightening on the delicate stemware.

“The turning down?” His voice roughens, eyes narrowed.

“The not being enough.” I pause, watching his face. I can’t imagine anyone turning him down. “You’re attentive, considerate and generous, both physically and emotionally.”

My face heats recalling the orgasms he’s given me and the reason the last one meant so much to me. He got me out of my own head. He’s listened to me ramble about my mother and he’s giving me truths he’d rather not share. He’s trusting me.

“You are more than enough.” My tone is defiant, upset that someone would ever say he wasn’t equal or surpassing. I lower my voice and stretch my hand across the counter toward him. “Much more than enough.”

He sighs, shoulders relaxing a bit. Fingertips brush mine, then retreat. His gaze remains on me. “Her father disapproved. She agreed with him.”