Page 52 of Steele

He drained the rest of his coffee. “You ready to go?”

I nodded. He took both of our cups behind the bar and washed them quickly. “We can swing by the drugstore on our way to The Bearded Goat.”

My tummy took a bit of a tumble. I hadn’t forgotten about last night either.

***

Brett’s bike was the only vehicle in the parking lot of the restaurant. I drove alongside it and put the car in park, but I left the engine running. The small white paper bag from the drugstore sat in the console between us. We both knew what it meant. He didn’t want to risk pregnancy, and neither did I.

He took a breath to speak, but I spoke first. “Don’t apologize again.” I stared out the windshield. “I’m not upset.”

He was quiet for a moment. “It’s your choice.”

I turned to him.

“I’m not asking you to take the pill,” he clarified.

“Thank you, but neither one of us need another complication in our lives.”

“True.” He opened the door. “But I’ve never seen Lili as a complication.” He stepped out and closed the door.

I thrust my car door open. “Are you implying I do?”

He furrowed his brow. “Fuck, baby. No.” He came around the car and closed the space between us. “I’m not implying anything. But you’re grieving your child, and I’m trying to figure out how to take care of mine. Neither one of us is ready for another kid. But I knew the risks when I put my dick in you. Nothing is a hundred percent. I’d never tell you that you had to take the pill. I’m saying it’s your choice.” He folded me into his arms.

I nodded but before I could take a step back, he lowered his head and kissed me. For a moment, I lost myself in the sweep of his tongue and the flutter of my heart. Then I remembered we were on a public street less than a mile from my home.

I broke the kiss, took a step back, and glanced around the parking lot. We were alone, but groping in public was stupid and dangerous. “I should go.” I moved into the protection of my open car door.

“I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” Knots coiled in my belly. I couldn’t stay with him, but part of me didn’t want to drive away either. I waited until he climbed onto his bike. The engine roared, and he slipped his mirrored sunglasses over his eyes. His hair was long and loose around his shoulders. The leather vest showing his club, his colors, shone in the sunlight. Boots, jeans that hugged his body, the cut, and the tattoos. Everything about him turned me on and scared the shit out of me. After Jeff, I wasn’t sure I was ready for someone like Brett.

With the roll of the throttle, he rode out of the parking lot, and I wished I could’ve been the woman he had riding on the back.

Five minutes later, I pulled into the driveway of my home. Branches still littered the front yard. The flowers and grass had perked up from the storm. The gutters were filled with debris, but the sidewalks were clean. I remembered Matti’s chalk drawings and playing hopscotch on the concrete.

Those were good days. Those were the days that mattered. But those were also the nights Jeff worked late. The weekends he missed because he had to work. The hours he betrayed our family for the new one he was making.

I’d been too stupid to see the signs because I wanted to believe in what I thought we had together. I thought he loved me. Maybe he did. Maybe he loved her, too.

I sat in the car and remembered the day we moved into the house. Jeff had carried baby Matti, asleep in his arms, and he’d promised to teach her how to ride a bike. He’d promised to love us forever. He’d promised me he’d always take care of us. An overwhelming wave of grief crashed over me.

My throat tightened, and a rush of memories brought a tide of guilt. I couldn’t catch my breath as a sob crawled up my throat and poured from my soul. I tried to box breathe. Inhale. One. Two. Oh god. Last night… How could I? Exhale. One. Two. Three. I choked on a breath. How could I have laughed with those people? How could I have been so selfish? I snatched the paper bag from the console.

What had I done? Panic squeezed my chest. I’d made the same mistake. I’d forgotten…

I’d forgotten how much losing everything hurt. I’d forgotten that Jeff made promises. Brett was just a guy on a bike. At least, he was supposed to be. No. He was supposed to be my student’s father. He wasn’t supposed to make me forget where I belonged.

I’d forgotten… I gulped but couldn’t breathe. Last night, I should’ve been here. I tipped my head back. How could I laugh when my baby was in the ground? I stumbled out of the car because my legs were too weak to hold me. “I’m so sorry. Matti, I’m so sorry.”

Sunlight shimmered on her painted pet rocks in the flower garden next to the front door. The colors were starting to fade, weathered by the sun, rain, and time. One day, the beady-eyed creations would be gone, too.

Gone and forgotten. I was the only one left to remember how she loved to sit on the front porch with me in the mornings. She would sing nursery rhymes. Her favorite was Hickory, Dickory, Dock. I taught her to count singing This Old Man and her letters by singing the alphabet.

Tears filled my eyes as I tried to remember the sound of her voice. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard her laugh because all I could hear in my head was how I’d laughed last night.

I couldn’t remember the last time I held her, but I must have hugged her goodbye when I left her with her grandparents. I couldn’t remember the feel of her hands on my face, but when she was a toddler, she used to hold my cheeks. “Mommy, promise.”