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“I hate to say it,” I start awkwardly, “but I really need to check on Ethan. I mean… Sorry to let reality come crashing in.”
He pulls back to look at me with a happy smile.
“Of course you do,” he smiles. “I bet he is still absorbed in his game and didn’t even miss us.”
He kisses me lightly, breathing softly against my cheeks before I slide from the bed and duck into the bathroom to clean up a little bit.
Just like Clay thought, Ethan is still immersed in his game. I sit on the sofa behind him, pushing his hair to one side and then the other, like I used to do when he was a baby.
“It’s bedtime, don’t you think?” I suggest. “I don’t think you even checked out your bedroom. All your stuff is in there already.”
“Yeah… okay,” he agrees with just a little bit of attitude.
But I am no fool. I stick around and watch him demolish a few more cars before he powers down the game and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. It’s so strange to see him from this angle, when I’m sitting and he is standing. Soon he’ll be an adult. A grown man, even. I still marvel at the fact that I made a person, somebody I am 100 percent responsible for.
“If you need something, I’m just upstairs,” I advise him.
“Aw, Mom, I’m fine,” he rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to worry all the time. Everything is fine.”
I leave his door open an inch after he shuffles into his new room, just out of habit. Suddenly exhausted, I return to my own room, half surprised to find it empty. I guess that makes sense. Clay has a room of his own. It is his house, after all.
Still, as I settle back into the sheets that are slightly aromatic with sweat or lust, I feel something good. Some kind of tight tickle in the middle of my body.
It’s hope. I almost want to laugh out loud when I realize what it is, to take care of the last time I actually had a feeling that I could identify as “hope.”
Maybe everything will be all right, after all.
Chapter 15
Clay
I couldn’t decide between French toast and frittata, so I just decided to make both. From what I remember, Penny will eat just about anything. I hope that Ethan is the same way, but even if he isn’t, I am sure I can whip something up.
As I beat a bowlful of eggs with some cream, I find myself whistling over the sound of the crackling bacon. It’s a lot of food. Way too much, but hopefully it won’t all go to waste.
I feel her watching me from the top of the stairs for a few seconds and don’t respond, giving her time to adjust. She pads down the stairs in her bare feet and out of the corner of my eye I watch her glide over the slate tile floor.
“Good morning,” she murmurs sweetly, settling into a chair on the opposite side of the kitchen island. I let myself steal a glance at her, happy to see that she’s smiling.
I am pretty sure that I am smiling too.
“Good morning. There’s coffee if you want it.”
She sighs with gratitude. The sound reminds me of her moans last night and shivers race down my torso.
“Wow, this is fantastic.” She smiles as she pours herself a healthy cup, topping it off with whipping cream.
“If you have any requests, I usually keep a list on my cell phone. Just shoot me a text and I’ll pick up whatever you need.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Requests? Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I shrug as I pour the egg mixture into the hot pan where potatoes have already sautéed and cover it with the lid. “Berries, snacks, beverages. Whatever you are used to.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she muses. “I guess I just eat the same stuff I always have.”
“So, Cheetos and Ramen?” I quip.
She points a finger at me and squints. “Ah, there it is. I knew you couldn’t just be all sweetness and gourmet cooking.”
