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She nervously grabs it from me, shaking her head through broken chuckles. “Oh my God, Ethan. I am mortified. Do you think he opened this up?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t either. Freaking kids, man. And to answer your question, no, I don’t think he did—because if he had, there would be many more questions to answer.”
She takes the box back over to her nightstand and puts it in the bottom drawer. “Apparently, my home isn’t very kid friendly. The next item for purchase on my list will be a safe for all of my sex toys.” She puts her face in her hands again as she walks back over to me.
“Well, my son shouldn’t have been up here in your room, to begin with,” I counter. “And don’t worry, we’ll have a long talk about it later.” Sighing, I pull her into my chest and kiss the top of her head. “It’s okay. He’ll be fine. But I should probably check on him and make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”
“Are you guys leaving now?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Do you want us to?”
Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “I mean, I still have popsicles for us to eat…”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m not ready for you two to leave just yet.”
“I’m not ready to leave either.” I grab her hand, kiss her lips, and lead her out of her room. “Let’s go eat some popsicles, Amelia.” And with a smirk over my shoulder, we traipse down the stairs and back to my kid, knowing that the questions over what just happened will plague me all night, especially those from Oliver.
But here’s the thing—with any other woman, I’d be running out the door. Hell, I never would have let Oliver get to know another woman like I’ve let him get to know Amelia. And as Amelia brings out the popsicles for us to eat and cues up a movie for us to watch, I make sure Oliver’s head is okay. We settle into the couch, just the three of us, spending the rest of the day laughing and being together—that should be enough for me to know that things with her could never be the same as they were with anyone else because she’s not just anyone else.
She’s the woman making me question every notion about love I’ve ever had. And even though I’m terrified, I want to believe that things happen for a reason too.
But deep down, I’m afraid that something or someone will fuck this up—and that someone might just be me.
