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Annoyance settles uneasily in my belly. “I don’t need your pity.”
His hands frame my face. “I don’t pity you, Davis. But you deserve so very much more than this.” His eyes drift past my shoulder, mouth falling open in surprise. “Is that….is that…her?”
I know instantly who he’s talking about and my heart seizes with emotion. Pulling out of his embrace, I remove the picture from the wall and place it gently into his waiting hands. Varying emotions drift across his face as he assesses the image; my lips pressed against her tiny cheek, eyes filled with love for my little girl. She’s peacefully lying with her belly across my arm, her back pressed against my chest. I remember that exact moment as if it were yesterday and how I’d been silently pleading with God to spare her, to let her live. BeggingHimto grant me this prayer, and promising I’d never ask for more if he did.
Merrick slowly lifts his head, eyes landing on mine as he whispers, “Look at you. You’re a dad.”
Thick emotion settles in my chest at the words he’s chosen. He doesn’t say ‘you were a dad’ or ‘you would have been such a good dad’. No…the three words he speaks are ones I’ve never felt worthy of until this moment. And he’s right; I am a dad. I will always be a dad to my sweet baby girl. Finally, I can claim that title without guilt overshadowing it. Finally, after all these years, I can own that position in her life, even if her life was cut short.
“Yeah, I am. Aren’t I?”
Wrapping his hand around my head, he pulls me close and kisses me softly, the picture trapped between our bodies. “Ah babe, yes you are.”
“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips, so extremely grateful that he sees me how I’ve always wanted to see myself: Whole.
Our embrace lingers as the heaviness of the emotion begins to subside. When I finally pull away to replace the picture on the wall, Merrick stays silent, as if he somehow knows that I need a minute or two to put my thoughts in order. Turning to face him, I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to be whatever he needs to me to be; friend, lover, partner. Doesn’t matter to me. Simply put, I just need to be near him.
Stretching out his hand, he offers a silent plea. He won’t ask me again, because he isn’t the type of man to push or coerce. He leaves the invitation out there in the air, and gives me the time I need to agree or disagree.
Surprisingly, the decision takes no effort on my part. “Let me just toss some clothes in a bag.”
His smile is warm, but there’s still surprise flitting through his blue eyes as he offers me a nod, then steps toward the door to patiently wait for me. My heart continues to race erratically as I shove some things into an old backpack of mine. I toss in my phone charger and my keys to the office, just in case. My expectations for tonight and tomorrow aren’t high, but I also don’t feel like traipsing back in here early Monday morning in a pseudo walk of shame.
Our hands meet in silent agreement as we head back downstairs and into the dark house. Upon entering, he severs our touch without comment, his way of showing respect for my tattered union, I suppose. He continues walking ahead of me out the front door, down the sidewalk, then up his driveway.
But the moment we’re once more locked inside his home, the silence ends. He nudges my body against the wall, burying his face in my neck as he whispers, “Let me take care of you.” I feel his lips against my skin, one hand sliding slowly down to my hip. “Let me please you.” He places warm kisses against my jaw, my cheek. The last words he speaks are said against my lips. “Let me love you.”
Ever patient, he steps aside and once more holds out his hand to me. I wish I was strong enough to resist him or take time to reconsider what may be about to happen. But hesitation is the last thing I’m feeling. Whatever we are together—friends, lovers, eventual partners—none of that matters. What matters is how we make one another feel. What matters is the trust I place in him, and him in me. What matters is this moment, this amazing man, and the big, open heart he unselfishly allows me to crawl inside of. Again and again and again.
