Page 56 of Counting the Days

Rhea casually sauntered back inside and speed-cleaned her bathroom. She swept, scrubbed her claw-foot tub, and threw hershower curtain liner in the garbage because the lower few inches were black with mold.

She usually just left clean towels in a pile in her laundry basket because folding them seemed silly. She lived alone. Why did she need perfectly folded towels with crisp corners? But she carefully folded a towel for Danny and left it on the toilet seat. Finally, she lit incense, ensuring he would have a spalike experience, and sauntered back outside.

Danny’s crew was gone and he was spraying down the garden with a hose. Rhea stared at his capable arms using a hose that had never been used before and wondered how she’d willed this Harlequin fantasy into her backyard. He looked up at her, and at the same time, a hummingbird floated past. It was official:Rhea’s mother loved Danny.The giant scale reappeared, and the Danny side was slightly outweighing the six pounds and seven ounces.

—

She sat on the couchand listened to the shower running behind her bathroom door. She closed her eyes and could see him standing in her claw-foot tub, hopefully rubbing her bar of soap all over his body. She opened her eyes and looked outside at her new tea garden. The one he’d built for her. She was so tired of living at a crossroads: Danny or some imaginary husband who wanted a baby? A real man, who was standing naked in her shower, or a hypothetical man she had yet to meet?

She heard the water turn off. She noticed his backpack sitting by the front door and saw clothes sticking out of the opening. She picked up the backpack and tapped on the bathroom door.

“I think maybe your clean clothes are out here.”

“I just realized that.”

As he opened the door, steam poured out. She watched drops of water fall from his head down his chest and onto the towel wrapped around his waist. She offered him the backpack but he put it on the ground and pulled her toward him. She fell into his arms and kissed her favorite mouth, the one that always tasted minty. She dug her hands into his hair.

He pulled out of the kiss and said, “I’m getting you all wet.”

They silently acknowledged the unintentional double entendre. He picked her up and carried her into her room. He put her down on her bed and stood over her.

“I need to put some clothes on,” he said, referring to the lone towel around his waist.

“No, you don’t,” she said, pulling him toward her.

As he kissed her and moved his hands up her body, she started drowning. She tried to remember the weight of that ugly baby in her arms, that cloyingly sweet smell, but none of it came into focus. The only sharp image she could conjure was of the man on top of her who had just built her a garden.

She pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside. He looked surprised and enraptured as he took in her body. His movements were slow and intentional, as if he was trying to give her a chance to stop him.

He reached behind her and unhooked her bra. He gradually pulled it off, and his callused fingers traced the swell of her breast as her nipple beaded under his touch. He leaned down, capturing it with his mouth, and she was completely lost to the world. A soft moan escaped her as he slid her underwear off, agonizingly slowly. And when his mouth was finally between her legs, she cried out a bit too loudly. He stopped abruptly, and she raked her hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed her slick, sensitive skin. He continued until she was writhing beneath him.

How could she give up all this deliciousness for some baby she’d never even met?

The Danny side of the scale plummeted toward the earth, flinging the baby out into the ether. She did not see where the baby landed, and she did not care; the Danny side had won. The path ahead was obvious. She moved toward her nightstand and handed him a condom. He looked at her with dazed eyes, trying to clear his head.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his low voice hoarse with restraint.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re ready?”

“Yes, yep, I’m ready.”

“You’resuresure?”

“Yes, yes, please, God.”

“You’re not worried about liking me too much?”

“No, no, I’m not.”

“Or getting too attached?”

“Nope, no, don’t care about that anymore, happy to be attached.”

“…Good,” he said, his breath warm against her ear, “ ’cause I’m in love with you.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, trying to process the words that had just left his lips. She was about to speak, but the pressure of him inside of her took her breath away. A feeling of utter completeness swept through her body. He was the piece she had always been missing. He moved, and she gasped. They moved together, their mouths grazing, her hands clawing at his back, his hands digging into her hair. She pressed her hips into his, a silent plea for more of him. He moved deeper, and she called out his name.