It was also then I found, when he climbed into bed with me, turned out the one lamp then tucked me in his side, Tack wasn’t in the mood either.
And last, I found that in his bed, we had different sides. Not that we had sides, as such, since, in our limited experience, we slept cuddled together. But in my bed I was on the right. In his, he positioned me on his left.
I lay cozied up to him in the dark for a while before he spoke.
“Dinner was good, Red.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“And I get you. Dave from Storage Wars is the man.”
I smiled into the dark. Tack must have felt my cheek move on his shoulder because his arm gave me a squeeze.
We fell silent.
Then I started, “Um…”
Then I stopped.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing,” I whispered.
“Um… what?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Tack.”
“Start it, say it,” he ordered.
I sighed. Then I said it.
“The, uh… kids didn’t seem surprised you and I headed off to bed together.”
“They wouldn’t, seein’ as I called them and told them you were comin’ up to make dinner and you were spendin’ the night. Rush even went to get the food, darlin’.”
This was true.
“Is this a, uh, normal occurrence?”
“It ain’t normal. It also ain’t out of the ordinary.”
Damn.
Honesty was usually good except at times like these.
“Though, none of them made my kids dinner,” Tack continued then concluded, “Or sat around and watched TV with them.”
This was something but it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.
Tack’s arm tightened and he pulled me on him and up so we were chest to chest and face to face in the dark.
“I ain’t no choirboy,” he said quietly.
“I know that,” I said quietly back.