CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

“A HOUSE full of hardwood floors, Jolie, you gotta’ find the kitchen rug?”

Myah entered the fabulous wood and glass kitchen to find Keir on the floor scrubbing the life out of the soiled mat in front of the oven. Jolie sulked guiltily in a corner. Myah twisted her lips to repress the laughter at the “forgive me” eyes. Watching Keir, she tapped a nervous finger on her phone, and pocketed her keys. Truth be told, she wished she had ‘forgive me’ written all over her face, too.

Up the road, she’d pulled over to text she’d be there in five minutes to talk, hoping the short time frame would lessen the potential he’d turn them away. The customary response fired back, Fine. His door was unlocked, signaling an invitation, but to find him in this sullen mood after a hard night’s work, couldn’t bode well in her favor.

Grunting, Keir rolled up the victim and took it to the large trashcan outside the back door. When he re-entered, his expression showed no surprise at her unannounced entrance. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She gave a slight lift of her chin in return. “It’s all right me being here?”

He shrugged dismissively. Walking past, he entered the restroom. “You wanted to talk.”

She clamped her jaw when he drowned out whatever response she might have wanted to say with running water.

He emerged and turned down the hall. “Where’s Dyl?” In a few steps he saw Dylan asleep on the living room couch, but bent down to tidy up a couple of Jolie’s toys scattered in the hallway. “Put him in his room.”

Dylan had a room. She didn’t have a room. The one time they’d stayed overnight she’d shared Dylan’s bed. Never questioned before now which of the two remaining could be hers. Had Keir?

Without waiting for her to move, Keir walked ahead, scooped him up, and headed upstairs. Myah’s heart sank that he wouldn’t even stand still long enough to look at her. Perhaps he already displayed the answer she sought. She stooped to pet Jolie, who yelped at Keir’s heels and stirred Dylan. Dyl stared at his handler in a daze before holding up two fingers.

Myah covered her mouth to trap either a laugh or a cry. His sleep-dragged smile dwarfed under Keir’s.

“Hi, big guy. Peace to you, too.”

“Two,” Dyl slurred, reshowing his fingers.

Keir laughed, and soon had him out of shoes and jacket, and tucked into bed in under a minute. No indecision in the process involving a dead-weight, head-lolling, “two”-slurring, sleeping toddler. Not like Greg’s mechanical attempt.

He came near to her at the door, slowed, then watched Dylan over his shoulder. “You taught him that?”

“All on his own. He couldn’t wait to show you.”

Unadulterated pride infused his smile for under a second. He watched a bit longer in the glow of the nightlight, then brushed by on his way to the staircase. “What do you want then.”

Plenty of love for her son, not so much for her. Her only salvation came knowing that if he wanted her gone, he wouldn’t have put Dylan in bed—no matter how much he’d like to turn them away at twelve-thirty in the morning.

Myah half closed the door, then jogged downstairs and followed bits of noise to the kitchen. Keir placed fruit juice and water on the table. No kettle boiling. A good sign. She took a seat at one end of the semicircle table bench, but he remained on his feet against the opposite bookend.

After a glance at the ceiling, he studied her for a minute. “We haven’t done this in a while, and I don’t know where your head is at, but can we agree to be civil and honest?”

She felt lower than low that he had to ask. She nodded. His hesitation to sit suggested he didn’t know which frustration to release first. Myah closed her eyes, slid her purse to the seat, and took a breath for courage. When she looked up, Keir waved two fingers for her to stand.

She did, then allowed him to take her hands, and closed her eyes for a different reason. This was what they needed, for good or bad of whatever their outcome. This was the kind of treatment she couldn’t live without; someone to draw out her honesty, even if she didn’t want to be honest with herself.

Keir’s prayer coated her. Right then and there, whatever the consequence and aftermath of their relationship, they would come out better people. She vowed it. She’d fix what she damaged and let him be happy.

“Amen,” she whispered when he finished.

She looked in his eyes as he let her go. They sat on either side of the curved seat. He flicked a finger on the table like he’d already heard bad news.

“It’s so good to see you.” She meant it. Not even a week, and it felt like a year.

Keir raised his arms and spread them on the ledge behind him, drummed his hands and waited.

“I saw Greg.”

He huffed an incredulous puff of air. His head turned to the open window as though he tried to block out the image of her sitting across from him. An oh-so-fed-up tension creased his face.

“Not my choice. He came to the house last Saturday…” The air thinned, turned prickly and cold. Her time without Keir had been filled with that man. “He’s called a couple of times. He tries… He’s not good, Keir. He’s not like you.”

Head still turned, his eyes veered back as if to say, ‘I could have told you that.’

“I left here the other day, and it was wrong. We should have worked it out.” She stared at her balled hands. “All of your relationships are perfect. Everybody likes you. All of mine are messed up, save one, and that’s because I’m his mother.” A dry laugh escaped. “I don’t know how to do this, okay? I want to be the perfect girlfriend, but I don’t know how to be her.”

A slow minute buzzed by. The air-conditioner kicked in. Jolie padded out of the kitchen to yip at a loud motor rumbling by, which cracked the dead night.

“I don’t know what to say other than I wish I hadn’t messed up.”

His arms slid off the ledge and he folded his elbows on the table. “Was what we had not enough? You think you can’t cut it with me, so you wanted to go back to him?”

“I never wanted to go back to Greg.” She tried to understand his reasoning. “You have the perfect family. I don’t know how to be like you, be a woman you’d want to stay with. I’d fall short, and I don’t want you to see that part of me.” She breathed carefully. “I mess up with men.”

He blinked. His eyes measured her words.

“But I never wanted Greg. In all our time together. What I do want is for him to care about Dylan, acknowledge him so his own son doesn’t grow up with a father who makes him feel ugly and unwanted. I don’t want him to know what it feels like, what I experienced when my parents turned their backs on me. Or to feel you reject and hurt him. He loves you.”

Keir’s eyes lowered. “I love him.”

With a sigh, Myah turned to the table opening. Part one done, and she was still breathing. The loud ticks of the clock punctuated the thinking silence. Keir rose in a sedate manner and came to kneel before her. He covered her cold hands under his.

“You never wanted him?” His face creased in puzzlement. “And how could you think I’d not want you? We get along great.”

“Can it last? What if someone comes along who’s single, without baggage of a kid, someone prettier with—”

“Come on, Myah. I made my choice with everything that’s you. You’re…”

She lost track of his words; said it with his eyes, though. In wonder, she caressed down his face.

He inhaled. He stopped her hand. His eyes closed briefly while he held her hand still and turned into it to kiss her palm. He brought it to her lap and folded it in his. “No one touches me like you. Not just this… You get inside me and stroke my fears away. Stroke my insides awake, my curiosity, my confidence.” He chuckled. “I sound sappy, but I can’t explain it. Everything. Why would I give that up? You’re my good thing, what I look forward to. My…” He tapped his heart. “That never stopped, Myah.”

Oh, wow. He’d made her speechless. She studied him; the hurt, the relief, the love. Could she go further with him? “I’d be a waste on someone else because this only happens with you.”

She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb over his finger which showed evidence he’d recently removed his parents’ ring. She barrelled on.

“I came to just lay it on the table, so here it is. I left because I was scared, and I’m sorry. I regretted it from day one. Ruined everything because I thought I’d ruin it later on. But Dylan’s a better person because of you. I can’t ignore that, or how much you love him.”

“Not the same as how I love you.”

“I don’t want to ruin you,” she whispered. “Give me time to believe you won’t change your mind and want better.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and shook it as he sighed. “This is confession time?” He looked at her. “Look, I didn’t call you. I’m sorry as well. I battled questions of my own, and was afraid you’d grown sick of me.”

“Sick of you. Are you kidding? I think I’m addicted. Scratch that. I know I am, car man. You calm me, too.”

His smile drew sad. “Don’t forgive me so quickly. The other reason I didn’t call is because I didn’t want to get wrapped up in you if you had your heart set on leaving.” He stared at their hands where his finger traced her knuckles. “Dad knew I wanted to go to the scrap yard. He told me to tag along. He’d drop me off first, then take Mom and Caitlin to the grocery store and I’d be done by the time he got back. Simple. But we never would have been on that route if he didn’t take me first. I’m the reason we were there. On that road.”

“Don’t blame yours—”

“It’s okay, I don’t. I never told anyone that before though. The only people who knew were in the car. It’s done and I can’t fix it. I only ever wanted to fix it.”

He paused and glanced down. She expected to see panic, but he seemed fine when his questioning gaze came to meet hers.

“Being without you made me see the things I can control and the things I can’t. I couldn’t control the accident. I also can’t control situations, like your heart, if it’s set to go. I can pray, but no man controls the soul. That’s only God. But I should have called and fought for you. Should have done everything I could to help you stay.”

She needed to kiss him, badly. Checking his eyes for consent, she leaned in and gave him a brief kiss. “I love you. I think I’ll stick around.”

He chuckled, but regarded her seriously when her middle finger traced over his relaxed lower lip.

“Yeah, car man, I’ve loved you forever,” she whispered to the semi-plump, shy, sexy and bewildered half-leer under her fingertip. “With a passion. Craving every—”

Keir charged forward. Those undeniable kissable lips covered hers with insane surety. The past week vanished.

His fingers played in her hair before holding firm in demand. He rose from his knees but leaned over her. She pressed into the kiss; a tag team of him in control, but letting her set the pace.

His hand slid to her chin, whispered on her skin, and she opened to him, her heart, her love, her future plans. If she had to, she’d beg to be kissed like this the rest of her life. But not now. She pulled away. Stared into dazed hooded eyes.

He crouched before her again and wove their fingers on her lap. “No talk of passion and craving. I’m a man who’s been desperate to see you for six seriously long days.”

She wanted to laugh it off as something light, but they’d bypassed light two minutes ago. She curled her lower lip between her teeth instead.

His eyes followed. He curled his own, chuckled, and looked away. “All right, you’re going to make me kiss you again.”

Now she did laugh, and shoved at his shoulder, but held on to it. She gave it a squeeze. “Tell me we won’t do that again. The not seeing each other.” She’d come here to commit to a relationship, but her words anchored her roots into something deeper.

“We never have to. And while we’re on the topic, I can’t stand it when you talk about Dylan’s father like he’s still a part of your life. He gave Dylan to you but he’s not his dad. And I can’t tell you how much it cut me to hear you say you let him into your house.”

She nodded, understanding.

He touched her chin. “Don’t be sorry. I trust you. I want the whole world to see how incredible you are, but there’s an intimate part of you and Dylan I don’t want to share with anybody else.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Pushover.” His smiling, soft gaze ran over her face. He kissed her cheek before rising to his feet. Helping her stand, he guided her arms around his back and she gave in to his hug.

It felt good to have his warm body wrapped in her arms, the sense of him, the familiarity of home. “So, one day at a time from here on out,” she stated.

“With plans for the future.”

She took a deep, covert breath. What did she get herself into? She grinned. Whatever it was, it felt right, and not rushed.

Life balanced at an all-time high, her love was safe, her troubles manageable. At that moment, Myah held the warm, hard, beautiful body of the man to whom she gave her heart.

Able to set her mind at peace, fatigue swooped in with crushing insistence. She rested on Keir whose body core burned with heat like a furnace. Holding each other, exhausted, in need of a moment to let down their guard, Myah understood why he never assigned a room, or why she never asked.

He better lock his door tonight.

She kissed his chest and pulled out of his arms. “I’ll go check on Dylan.” And not leave the room.

“I’m going to stay down here for a bit.”

She understood. She made her way to the front hall. Another vehicle passed by on the street as she trudged up the stairs. What a dream-come-true turn of events her life had taken. Keir loved her and they reaffirmed to work things through for the long haul. She squealed in her throat and covered her face as she laughed.

“What a blessed life. Thank you, Father. Thank you for Keir. Guide us to make this work.” It would. She wouldn’t back out again.

After a trip to the restroom, she moved on to get some sleep. Inquisitive Dylan must have woken again. She tread lightly through the wide-open door and stared at the rumpled sheets.

Keir’s voice came from downstairs. “Myah?” It trailed off, then came back louder. “My? Why’s the front door open?”