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Trace: Want to talk about it?
Me: I tried that with Mom. Didn’t make me feel better.
Trace: Maybe because you weren’t talking to me. ;)
Suddenly, I realize what I need. My fingers move fast.
Me: Reassure me, Trace.
I hold my breath as I wait. He’ll know what I mean, but will he say the right words and tell me what I need to hear? Is that possible when I don’t even know myself? How can he know if I don’t? A whoosh of air leaves me with the incoming text.
Trace: I love, want, cherish, need, and trust you. We’re in this for the long haul. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to. Believe it or not, but you make me sane when I’m going mad. I don’t care how many times I have to reassure you, remind you, or convince you, you are mine, and I am yours. When we fuck up, we’ll recover. We’ll come out on the other side stronger. Got it? Good. I love you.
Me: Thanks. I love you, too.
Trace: Any time, Britt. Take a nap or something.
Me: Nap might not be a good idea. I stopped by a bookstore the other day and bought a book. I’ll read that.
I literally walked in, wandered around until I found the romance section, and picked up the first book that caught my eye. I can’t ever remember reading for fun. It’s always been about reading because I had an assignment to do or a test to take. I don’t even know what genres I really like. Can’t go wrong with romance, though, right? At least, I hope so.
Every time I’ve woken up this morning, I’ve rolled over and fallen back to sleep. It’s like gut instinct. As if my body knows it needs to spend a day in bed. Or my mind is trying to convince itself that’s what I need. Actually feeling tired, I’ve given in and gone back to sleep. However, my phone is ringing. And ringing, and ringing, and ringing.
I blindly reach for it, keeping my eyes closed, and swipe at the bottom of the screen. “What?” My voice is groggy from sleeping.
“You’re still in bed.” Trace doesn’t ask; he can tell. Before I can say anything, he tells me, “Come open the door for me.”
“You’re here?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, give me a sec.” I hang up without waiting for a response, throw the covers off, and grab my robe since I slept naked last night. Hmm. That’ll definitely have to stop if I stay with Trace since sex is still off the table for the time being. Don’t want to tempt fate. I open the door, standing behind it with only my head poking around, to see Trace with a bunch of bins in his hands.
“I came to help you pack. I used these when I moved, so I figured you could put them to use now,” he says. “I also brought lunch.”
“Lunch?” I close the door after him.
“Yeah. Lunch.”
“I didn’t realize it was that late. I didn’t mean to sleep in.” I feel like I need to add more and defend myself.
Trace sets the bins on my coffee table and starts to say, “How are you fe—?” His words die as he turns to face me, catching sight of my attire. His gaze devours me. Heat flushes my cheeks, I shiver, and then quickly head to my room, muttering about getting dressed. I feel…almost embarrassed? Is that right? Whatever it is, it’s ridiculous. It’s not like we haven’t had sex since the breakup. Then again, we haven’t had sex since we’ve gotten back together. But still.
After finding a shirt, panties, and shorts, I leave my bedroom fully dressed and in the process of pulling my hair up in a ponytail. Based on Trace’s expression, I probably should’ve put on a bra, or a sports bra at the very least, but who wants to wear a bra when they don’t have to?
“Burgers?” I ask, seeing the logo on the fast food bag he pulls out of where it was sitting in the bins.
“Yeah. Are you hungry?”
I nod. We sit on the couch. He passes me my burger and fries, and then goes to grab drinks from the kitchen. He clears his throat and tries again.
“How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “Tired, but otherwise okay. You?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m fine,” I mock in a terrible imitation of his voice. “Maybe you’ll rub off on me then.”
