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Before he can sit down, I say, “You don’t have to wear clothes.”
He freezes. I haven’t taken my eyes off the book.
“I know you like to sleep naked. Just do it.”
I lift my eyes from the book. He looks like a deer in the crosshairs – working out if this is some sort of trap.
“I’m not sleeping naked,” he says, his voice sounds thick. He clears his throat. “I’ll wear pants.”
“Suit yourself,” I say, returning to my book.
He pulls off his shirt and gets under the covers. He grabs a book he’s left on the other nightstand, and we both read for a half hour. When my eyelids are heavy and I can’t stop yawning, I say, “Can you help me to the bathroom one more time?”
He jumps out of bed and comes around to my side. I let him take my arms this time, and he pulls me out of the bed. We’re almost in an embrace, my face is so close to his shirtless torso. His smell washes over me, and I want to bury my face in his chest and just breathe him in.
“You alright?” he says. I jerk my face up to him. I’m not going to admit thathis smellwas making me dizzy. “Yeah. Of course, just getting my balance.”
He nods and helps me into the bathroom again. When I’m finished and have brushed my teeth, he helps me back into bed, settling the pregnancy pillow around me and pulling the blankets over me. His tenderness nearly makes me cry, especially considering the fight we had before I got sick. He switches off my lamp and then returns to his side of the bed.
Once his light is off, we lay in silence for a minute until I can’t keep my emotions at bay. Tears slide down my face, spilling onto my pillow. My body shakes with sobs.
He places his hand on my arm and lets me cry. When I’ve settled a little, he says, “I’m sorry all this is happening.”
I put my hand on top of his hand that’s still resting on my arm. “It’s not that. I mean, itisthat, but...”
“What is it?”
I take in a deep inhale and then say, “I was so terrible to you.”
I feel his body tense.
“I was awful, and you’re being so kind.” The tears keep coming along with the wave of guilt washing over me.
He doesn’t respond for a minute, and then I feel his hand squeeze my arm.
“Get some rest,” he whispers.
Not forgiveness. I don’t deserve it anyway, but I don’t move my hand and he doesn’t either.
I fall asleep thinking about all the things I should have said but didn’t.
