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He doesn't finish his sentence, but I think we both know what's happening between us. Something real, something good.
My head spins with endorphins and adrenaline as I come with him, the two of us going together. I can't keep my thoughts in line as I whisper something to him, and he whispers something back--words that don't mean anything compared to what I'm feeling. There's no room for rational thought with him.
All I know is that I don't want to be alone anymore.
He pulls out after who knows how long, taking me with him and covering us up under the blankets. Evan kisses my forehead and strokes my hair, his chest rising and falling under my hand. My wedding band is still on my finger, and it reminds me of lying like this with David, once upon a time. All of a sudden, this blinding fear creeps up on me that Evan is going to be gone soon, that I can't trust how good this feels because I need to guard my heart...
...so I lie still and listen to his heartbeat.
Alive.
Here.
Evan turns toward me and I look up at him, finding a goofy, post-sex smile on his face. He looks so relaxed--like he doesn't expect anything to go wrong.
It's nice.
"You're really something, Samantha Valdez," he says.
I smile. "Poetic."
"Can't find the words right now," he says. "But I will."
We don't say anything else; we just stare at each other in the light of the lamp until we fall asleep. And even if this only lasts for one night...
I know I won't regret it.
Chapter twelve
Sam
WhenIwakeupalone the next morning, I almost think last night was a dream. There were moments when our night had some very dreamlike qualities, for sure--the way I kept waking up with Evan already kissing me, his lips on my throat, his hands on my breasts or between my legs. Every time, we had sex...again and again, until it felt like the world got smaller and smaller until it was just us and the bed.
Now, though, I'm alone.
The ceiling fan hums above me, loud enough that I don't hear the noise from the living room at first. But then it comes filtering through the door--dogs barking every so often, along with Alex's laughter.
Oh my God.
Alex.
I whip the blankets off and stumble over to my dresser to grab a t-shirt and PJ pants, hoping he didn't see Evan stumbling out of my bedroom this morning. I have no idea where Evan is; I didn't hear him leave. I fling the door open and step out into the hall, my eyes wide--
--and I find Alex sitting on the floor with the puppy, Evan at the stove, the smell of pancakes in the air.
Evan is dressed in a t-shirt and green basketball shorts, steam rising from the coffee pot beside him and a sizzling sound from the stove. Alex is still in the astronaut PJs I put him in last night.
It looks...domestic.
It hurts a little to see the two of them like this. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but it's like I'm stealing something that was supposed to belong to someone else.
Then Alex looks up at me and that sadness fades away as a rubber ball collides directly with my stomach.
"Mom!" he says. "I'm teaching Fred how to fetch!"
I have to admit, it doesn't look like he's been very successful. The dog is ignoring the ball he just threw, prancing around my ankles instead as the rest of the pack joins her. Evan glances over his shoulder at me and grins, and I wonder if he already broke the rule we set that we wouldn't confuse Alex.
"You're doing a good job, buddy," I say, ruffling Alex's hair as I walk past him. "When did you wake up?"
