Page 85 of When There Was You
“But?” he prods.
But I know nothing about being a mother. My mom wasn’t a great role model. I can barely take care of myself. This is way out of my league. I could fuck it all up…thisone thingthat’s more important to Butch than anything else. Plus, he’s embroiled in a legal battle with an ex-wife that sounds messy and equally beyond my purview. My mind races with intrusive thoughts, but I voice none of them.
“I just need some time to digest this.”
His shoulders sag. He’s not convinced.
He’s laid himself bare, and I’m backtracking like a spooked animal.
I’m proving him right about women. About trusting others.
I’m also, unwittingly, sealing my own destiny.
Forty-Four
Butch clears our cups, and we stand. I’m hoping the long drive back to the city will give me the space and time to sift through my emotions.
“Will you stay a while?” he asks. “We don’t have to talk about anything heavy. Just…stay. Hang out with Emmy and me. Please.”
I’m torn…wanting to, not wanting to. “Alright,” I answer.
He’s standing close, and our eyes connect. Cautiously, he pulls me against him. When I don’t resist, he tightens his grip. Tears threaten the minute I inhale his scent, the inexplicable safety and surety of him, the longing and ache that follows.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, and the warmth leaves its imprint even after his lips are gone.
Butch gives me the nickel tour of his home. There’s a spot probably meant for dining that serves as a playroom for Emmy. It’s brimming with toys and games, a desk, and a crafts table piled with various supplies and some project in progress. A powder room and laundry facilities fill out the first floor.
Upstairs are three bedrooms. Emmy’s is adorable with a sparkly pink bedspread, bright pillows, and a purple plush chair tucked into a reading nook crammed with books and more toys.A Jack-and-Jill bathroom adjoins with a spare bedroom that only contains a bed and nightstand, but a copse of lush evergreens fills the rear window. Butch’s suite is the largest and has a private bathroom with a huge tub, separate shower, and double-sink vanity. It’s impossible to avoid staring at the king-size, four-poster bed made from rough-hewn logs. A black comforter is draped on top of gray sheets and pillows. A stuffed leather chair, end table, and a sizable dresser give it a masculine vibe. His room also benefits from those glorious trees out his windows.
“It’s so…homey,” I say.
Butch raises an eyebrow. “That’s why they call it a home?”
I elbow him. “It’s just interesting to finally see where you live. You’re neater than I thought.”
He hums. “I try.”
My gaze lands back on his bed.
“I’ve thought of what I would do to you here,” he whispers, brushing a lock of hair behind my shoulder. I shiver and he notices. “I hope you’ll give me the chance.”
We head downstairs, and Woody Woodpecker’s signature laugh punctuates the air as we near the living room.
Emmy’s head rests on Hemi’s torso. The pair seem as thick as thieves.
“A certain someone mentioned you wanted to name her Hemi.”
He grins. “I did. It was vetoed.”By her mother.
“For a girl, Butch? Really?”
“What’s wrong with that? The Hemi engine is superior, powerful, badass. Sounds perfect for a female. That’s a don’t fu…mess with me kind of name.”
“You have a point,” I concede.
“That’s now moot.”
I shrug. “Suits the dog perfectly.” As if Hemi hears, his tail swooshes back and forth across the rug.
