Page 94 of When In Doubt

“What are you doing?”

“Shh, go to sleep.” He carries me through the apartment, almost knocking over a lamp as he goes.

When we reach the doorway of my bedroom, Oscar carefully lowers me to my feet.

He keeps hold of my hands as he speaks. “I can go if⁠—”

“Stay,” I cut him off. The thought of him leaving, of having to go to sleep alone, is too horrible to contemplate.

I don’t want to go any further, but I want more of this, more of him holding me, the way he makes me feel so safe, so precious. I stare up at him, my fingers reaching to trace the line of his beard. “Stay,” I say again.

He gives me a small smile that almost stops my heart. “Alright.”

I walk into my room, listening as he follows behind me. Something about his presence makes it feel more complete, as if it’s more like home with him in it.

I grab my pajamas from where they’re folded at the end of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

He hums a sound of acknowledgement, and then, for the second time tonight, I’m tucked away in the bathroom while he’s waiting outside. Except this time, I don’t feel the need to psyche myself up. I change fast and rush to wash off my makeup, eager to be back out there.

When I open the door again, the scene that greets me makes me pause. Oscar’s in his boxers and undershirt, the rest of his clothes folded neatly on the chair in the corner. He’s turned off the big light and the room is now illuminated by the lamps on either side of the bed. The light coming through the stained-glass lampshade casts flickers of color up the walls. I wish every night could be like this, so wonderful in all its normalcy.

Maybe one day, they can be, if I’m willing to be brave.

“You ready for bed?” he asks.

I nod, the words trapped somewhere in my chest. When he holds out a hand, I pad toward him until we’re wrapped around each other again, Oscar cradling my head against his chest.

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to do, you don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not worried.” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“Good.” He kisses my temple. “Which side do you sleep on?”

“The right.”

He pulls back, taking a second to run his thumb over the apple of my cheek before moving to pull the covers back on my side. He gestures for me to get in and I do, sliding between the cool sheets.

Oscar looks down at me for half a second that feels like forever, before rounding the foot of the bed and getting in beside me.

“You wanna cuddle some more?” he asks quietly.

Yes.

Always.

I reach out to turn off the lamp, Oscar doing the same on his side. Only once we’re shrouded in a cocoon of darkness, lit by the soft glow of the streetlamp outside, do I answer.

“Yes, please.”

I hear him shuffling, then feel an arm snaking around my waist. “Get over here.”

With a giggle, I roll over. It takes a second for us to arrange ourselves, me landing with my head on his chest. One of his arms comes around me and I feel the soft tickle of his fingers toying with the end of my hair.

“I thought you didn’t like being touched?” he asks gently.

My stomach sinks. “People think that a lot.”

“But it’s not true?”