step at a time. I’ve waited for so long to see this look in her eyes again, to feel wanted, to feel the undeniable pull that brought us together twenty-two years ago.
But still … I think of Dorothy. Maybe I’ll always think of Dorothy. She will just have to be a scar, a permanent mark on my heart because I let her inside of me. And letting her go has been brutal and not without damage.
Julie rests her hands on my bare chest and presses her lips to my sternum. I close my eyes and slide my hand into her long, red hair. It’s not as soft as Dorothy’s hair. But the shiver it elicits in Julie is familiar. So that’s what I cling to—the familiar.
She feathers kisses up to my neck. My grip on her hair tightens like the suffocating pressure in my chest. Her lips pause at the angle of my jaw, and she waits for me to look at her.
I do.
But just as quickly, I close my eyes and kiss her so she doesn’t see the pain and regret in my eyes. I have to believe someday it won’t be there.
Someday I will be okay.
Julie doesn’t smell like coconuts. But that’s fine.
Fine …
She smells like roses. I used to love the smell of roses.
I drop the towel in my other hand and grip her hip, inching my hand up to her breast. It’s not familiar. It’s larger than it was when I last touched her like this. And much larger than Dorothy’s breasts, which I miss.
Julie’s fingers trace my erection along the outside of my shorts. I’m clearly turned on, and that’s good for us. I just really don’t know if it’s Julie or memories of Dorothy.
It doesn’t matter.
This is my life now. I will embrace it.
I will love it.
Blocking all other comparisons from ruining this moment, I walk us to the bed. We don’t rush anything, like there’s a need to get reacquainted, a need to let our bodies find their old rhythm. Our arms and legs tangle together on the bed as we continue this slow kiss. I remove her shirt and bra.
Julie sucks in a deep breath and holds it, eyes filled with apprehension and regret as I stare at her new body. She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s feeling a certain amount of shame for not loving herself the way I always loved her. For thinking something about her was less than perfect. But perfection changes and so does how we view ourselves. And that’s … okay.
Just as I get ready to say something comforting, we turn our heads toward the door and the sleepy-eyed boy with vomit down the front of his jammies.
“Oh, buddy!” I climb off the bed as Julie quickly covers her chest.
“My tummy …”
“Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up,” I say.
He cries a little then heaves, but I don’t get out of his way quick enough to keep the vomit from landing on me. Without giving a second thought to what was about to happen before Roman got sick, we clean up the mess and tuck him into bed between us with a big bowl for any more messes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Oops …
Dorothy
“What are you doing?”
“Jesus!” I jump at the sound of Dr. Warren’s voice. “Don’t scare me like that.”
He tosses his lunch wrappers in the garbage. “I ate my lunch, watching you pace a six-foot strip for the past fifteen minutes. What’s up?”
“Nothing is up.” I force myself to stand still, shoving my hands into the pockets of my scrub top.
Fifteen minutes. Fuck … my break is up.
No. This is a good thing. I need to work. Work is good. I should think about work.
“Haven’t seen you lurking around the lab as much. Does this have anything to do with the reconciled Hawkins-Hathaway duo?” Warren tips his chin up, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Oh. So the rumors are true? They’re back together?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah …” he says slowly.
“Good. That’s great. Just as it should be.”
Then the breakup and subsequent thirty-two journals used to sort out my thoughts weren’t all for nothing. It’s a silver lining. Silver linings are good.
Roman has his parents back together. That is all that matters to me.
Sort of …
“How many cups of coffee have you had today, Mayhem?”
“One. Why?” I stop myself from pacing again. When did I even start pacing again?
He chuckles, pressing the button to the elevator. “No reason.”
“He’s happy. Right?”
Dr. Warren pauses, holding open the elevator doors. “Sure. I mean.