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His response is slower, and I’m in my Jeep and almost to the Y when it pops up.
He fucking better be good to you. And stop saying that shit—you deserve anything and everything, Nala, that asshole included if he’s who you want.
I bring back the memory of Mal, how devastated he looked this morning, and then how strong, how he put me back together with just words.
He is. He’s who I want.
+ + +
Mal comes to me later that night, after I’ve drunk champagne with Jordan and Isa and her mom and sisters. After I’ve watched Isa talk on the phone with her man, and tell him she couldn’t wait to marry him, and after I’ve wondered if that kind of life is possible.
He slips in to my side, hands sure and quiet in the dark when they pull me close. I wait, ready for him to turn me and bring me astride him like he so often does, ready for him to strip me of the small tank and panties I’m wearing, and take me to those places only he can. But he doesn’t. I hold my breath and wait, but Mal’s hands never wander from their hold around my middle, just like his lips never veer from their spot on my shoulder.
“Mal?” I ask.
He nods, and then he grabs my hands, linking our fingers while his arms stay around me, holding me even tighter.
“I needed to hold you.”
Those words…they melt me. I curve my back and let him wrap farther around me, keeping me close and holding me tightly while his lips rest on my neck. That’s all he does, all he’s still doing in the morning when I wake up, body on fire and hands asleep from being gripped tightly in his. And I wonder what it means.
