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“Yeah.” I’m barely aware of what I’m saying now. “Love being touched like this. Been a long time since anyone touched me.”
His hand moves higher, caressing my neck and head. “Has it?”
“Yeah. Long, long time.”
“I know how that feels.”
“Do you?” I’m fighting to stay awake, to make sense of this conversation. “So no one touches you either?”
“Not in a long time.”
“What about your girlfriends?”
He exhales a short huff. “What girlfriends?”
“Don’t you have girlfriends?” I’m sure I recall some talk about him dating, but maybe that was just in my dream.
“Not for a long time. I used to date. I wanted sex, and I wanted some sort of connection. But it was always empty until...”
“Until what?” I rub my cheek against his shirt again, too lethargic to make any other gestures of comfort.
“It felt empty. Even when I was trying to make it real, it felt empty. Eventually the emptiness was worse than being alone, so I stopped trying.”
“You shouldn’t be alone. You’re too good to be alone.”
“I’m not that good.”
“Yes, you are.” I squeeze him, wanting him to know I mean it. In the process, my forearm brushes up against something hard and intriguing and exciting in his lap. I move against it again, sleepily eager.
“Okay,” he says, moving abruptly in a way that jars me out of my investigations. “That’s enough of that.”
“But I wanted to—”
“I know. But you’re half-asleep, and even if you weren’t, you need to be mentally clear enough to make that decision. You’re confused, so it’s not going to happen. I might not be good, but I’m notthatbad.”
I keep trying to cling to him even as he stands up. “You are good.”
“Thank you for believing that. Come on, baby. Let’s get you to bed.” He leans over, reaching for me, and before I know what’s happening, he’s lifted me up and settled me in his arms.
“You’re carrying me?” I ask foolishly, wrapping an arm around him and lolling my head against his shoulder. I can’t remember ever being carried like this. Not since I was a child.
“Yes, I’m carrying you. I’m not completely decrepit yet.”
“You’re not decrepit. You’re nice and strong.”
He chuckles at that as he starts to walk out of the room.
“What about Fred?” I ask, suddenly remembering the beloved dog who has been sound asleep on the couch all this time.
“He can come with you.” He makes a short whistle between his teeth. “Come on, boy. You come to bed too.”
I hear a scuffle that must be Fred jumping to the ground. I peer fuzzily around Arthur’s shoulder and see the dog following at his heels. “Good boy.”
Fred pants happily. I lean my head against Arthur again as he strides down the hall and then up the back stairway.
We’ve reached my bedroom when I ask groggily, “Did you call me baby?”
“Of course not.” He lowers me onto the bed. Pulls off my slippers. Then adjusts the bedding so he can pull the sheet and duvet up over me.
