He nods. He’s somber. I should have known how this would affect him.
“Now that you know where I came from, I understand if you want me to leave.” I turn to reach for my bag, so that I can gather my things.
“What the fuck?” he says, his arm snaking around my stomach as he picks me up and lifts me into his lap. I turn to face him, my legs over his thigh. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I heave a sigh. “I have no idea.”
He tips my face up and looks into my eyes. “I want you here. Will you stay?”
“Will you be satisfied with what I told you?”
He nods. “For now, yes.”
His eyes narrow and I know what his next question is. “Will you tell me your name?”
I shake my head. I can’t. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He nods, settling me against his shoulder. He holds me like that for a minute, and then he jostles me out of his arms. He pulls the covers back and picks me up, tucking me. He climbs in behind me and turns me to face him. “I had hoped for more. But I’ll take what I can get. Thank you for telling me what you did.”
“Thank you for listening.”
I lean forward and touch my lips to his. He’s hesitant. “What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning back.
He pulls me into him, and I feel the length of him against my hip.
“Oh,” I say. My belly clenches. My need matches his.
He brushes my hair back from my face with gentle fingers. “Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “It’s like this crazy torment, having you this close to me.”
“You know we could-” I start. But he puts a finger against my lips to stop me.
“I can wait,” he says. He reaches over and turns off the light. He rolls me into him, and the light dusting of hair that’s on his chest tickles my cheek.
“I think I might love you, Logan,” I say to the darkness.
His head lifts. I can see it in the sliver of light that’s falling from the open curtain. “Did you say something?” he asks.
I shake my head, letting my nose brush his chest so he can feel my answer.
“You sure?” he asks.
I nod, my nose brushing him up and down. He kisses the top of my head, and hitches my leg up over his hip. I wrap an arm around him and snuggle in deeply. “Go to sleep,” he says softly.
So I do.
***
I wake the next morning to a gentle tap, tap, tap on the side of my nose. I blink my eyes open and startle when I see a face looking into mine. Hayley grins at me. “You sweepy?” she says quietly.
I was, until she tapped against my face like a hungry bird. I scrub the sleep from my eyes and look over at Logan. He’s lying beside me with one arm flung over his head, his mouth hanging open. I snuggle deeper into my pillow. “Where’s your daddy?” I ask.
“Sweeping,” she says. She’s dragging a bunny by the ears. “I’m hungwy,” she says.
I cover a yawn with my open palm. I probably have awful morning breath. “Can you go and wake your daddy?”
She shakes her head. “He said to go back to sweep.”
I look toward the window. The sun is just barely over the horizon. “I want a pancake.”
A pancake? “How about some cereal?” I ask, as I throw the covers off myself and get up. I take a pair of Logan’s boxers from his drawer and put them on.
“Dos are Logan’s,” she says, scowling at me.
“Do you think he’ll mind if I borrow them?” I whisper at her.
She shakes her head and smiles, taking my hand in her free one so she can lead me from the room. “You don’t got to whisper. Logan can’t hear,” she says.
I laugh. She’s right. And what’s funny is that it took a three year old to remind me. I hold a finger to my lips, though, as we step out into the hallway. “But your daddy can. Shh.”
She giggles and repeats my shush.
She runs down the hallway, her nak*d feet slapping softly against the hardwoods until she’s in the kitchen. I search through the cupboards to find a box of cereal.
“Not dat one,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t wike dat one.” She points to a different box. One with a cartoon character and the word fruit on it. But I know there’s no fruit in this cereal. Or anything else healthy.
“Does your daddy let you eat this?” I ask.
She grins and nods. I shrug my shoulders and pour her a bowl of cereal with milk. She gets her own spoon from the drawer. She knows where everything is. She digs into her cereal, her feet swinging back and forth beneath the chair.
I go and lay down on the couch. I am tired. I think Logan and I got to sleep around five in the morning, and it can’t be much later than that now. I lay back with a groan and close my eyes. I am just getting comfortable when two sharp elbows land in my midsection. Hayley crawls on top of me on the couch. I think she must be part monkey. She holds a kid-sized board book in her hand. “Wead,” she says, shoving it in my face.
I sit up, tucking her into my lap. I take the book from her and open it, but the words jumble. I turn it upside down. “Once upon a time,” I begin.
“Dat’s not how it goes,” she complains.
She’s a smart girl. “I know,” I explain. “But books are magical and if you turn them upside down, there’s a whole new story in the pages.”
“Weally?” she asks, her eyes big with wonder.
No, not really. But it’s the best I can do, kid. “Really,” I affirm.
She wiggles, settling more comfortably in my arms.
I start to make up a story, based on the upside down pictures. She listens intently. “Once upon a time, there was a little frog. And his name was Randolf.”
“Randolf,” she repeats with a giggle.
“And Randolf had one big problem.”
“Uh oh,” she breathes. “What kind a problem?”
“Randolf wanted to be a prince. But his mommy told him that he couldn’t be a prince, since he was just a frog.”
I keep reading until I say, “The end.” She lays the book to the side and snuggles into me. I kiss the top of her head, because it feels like the right thing to do. And she smells good. “Your story was better than the book’s story,” she says.
My heart swells with pride. “Thank you.” If only it was this easy to please the adults of the world.
“Want to watch TV?” she asks.
I yawn. “Sure. Why not?”
She goes over and picks up the DVD. “You go start it,” she instructs.
The DVD player is under the TV, and it doesn’t look that complicated. I put the movie in and turn the TV on. The movie starts, but it’s not a typical kids’ movie. It’s a movie that teaches sign language to children. I drop onto the floor to sit beside her. There’s a lady teaching each of the signs, and there are pictures. There are words at the bottom of the screen for people who can read. But it’s an instructional DVD made for kids.
Hayley sits beside me and she starts to repeat the signs. “You do it?” she asks. “We wearn signing for Logan.”
I am enraptured. “We learn sign language for Logan,” I repeat with a nod.
When the first DVD ends, we move on to the second. I have an amazing memory, because I have to have one. So, I think I can remember some of this. I’m giddy with excitement. I practice some of the more basic signs with Hayley.
We’re almost done with the second DVD when Paul walks into the room. “Hayley, what are you doing?” He scratches his stomach. His hair is a mess, sticking out all over the place.
She pats my cheek. “I wearning signing with Logan’s girl,” she says.
I like that. I like it a lot.
“Did she wake you up?” Paul asks, smothering a yawn.
I wave him off with a breezy hand. “It’s no big deal. She was showing me the DVD’s.”
He nods, his brows arching. “Well, I’m sorry she woke you. You should go back to bed.”
“Do you think it would be all right if I watch the rest of them later?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy about it.
He chuckles. “Of course. That’s how we all learned.”
I nod. He picks Hayley up, jiggling her until she giggles. He laughs at her. “Next time I tell you to stay in bed, I mean stay in bed, little girl,” he says. She laughs all the way down the hallway, until he takes her in his room and closes the door.
I yawn. The bed is calling to me. I go back in Logan’s room, and he’s lying exactly like I left him. I draw the shades closed, so the room isn’t quite so bright. Then I take off his boxers and slide back into bed with him. He reaches for me immediately, pulling me into him as he rolls and covers me with his leg, his thigh across the backs of mine. “You all right?” he asks.
I nod. I’m all right. I can’t help but think that I’m where I’m supposed to be.
He brushes my hair from my face and nuzzles me with his lips. I settle deeper into him and go back to sleep with him wrapped around me.
It seems like only moments later when the bed begins to vibrate.
Logan
The bed vibrates and I reach over and smack the alarm clock. I hate early Saturday mornings. But I promised Sam that I would go and run some plays with him in the park before the shop opens. Sam’s a football player, and he’s being scouted by a few colleges. He thinks he might get a full ride, and I couldn’t be happier for him. He doesn’t have the grades to get a scholarship like I did. But he’s capable of getting an education through sports, and that works too.
The purr of Kit’s throat tells me that she’s saying something. I look down at her lips, but she’s laying with her face smushed into the pillow. “Did you say something?” I ask, rolling her to her back. I throw my leg across her.
She doesn’t speak, but she signs the word no at me. My heart leaps. She smiles, then her brown eyes open and she blinks at me. “Did I do that right?” She signs the word for right, but nothing more.
“Yes, it’s right. Where did you learn that?”
“I watched some DVD’s with Hayley this morning when she woke me up.” She yawns and turns toward me. “Will you sign with me? I want to learn your language so we can talk around your brothers.”
My heart swells.
“I can learn to sign,” she begins, like she has to justify her ability to learn. I put my finger over her lips.
“Shh…” I say. “I’ll sign with you any time you want.”
She’s lying on her back with my t shirt sliding up to expose a strip of skin over her panties. I reach out, and run my hand along the seam of her panties, dipping the tips of my fingers below the elastic. She squirms and her eyes open. They’re soft and warm and pleading with me.
I should move away from her. But I can’t. I haven’t been able to get away from her since I met her, and I can’t start now.
I bend my head and press my lips to that little strip of skin, lingering there as I kiss my way from one hip to the other. She arches her back, pressing her heat closer to me. If she were anyone else, I would be pulling her panties down her legs by now. But she’s not anyone else. She’s mine. And she’s special. I groan out loud, flip her shirt down and move up to kiss her quickly. I’m sure I have morning breath, so I don’t linger. But as I move to roll off of her, she grabs my shoulders and pulls me back to her. “I’m not a virgin, you know?” she says.