“What if you moved them to another part of the house?”
He took a swig of soup. “Tried it. Didn’t work.”
“Maybe you should get some different plants. Ones that like to be watered.”
“Too late.”
He gulped the rest of the soup down, and then I handed him his pain pill. He knocked that back with the last sip.
Then I helped him get under the covers, and I tucked him in like he was a little kid.
He patted the bed next to him, and said, “Sit for a second.”
He’d be conked out again soon. “Just for a second,” I said, sitting to face him.
He held my gaze for a second. Then he said, “I hate nighttime now. I can never sleep anymore. Every tiny noise makes me jump.”
I leaned over to get his phone off the bedside table. I thought he’d closed his eyes again, but when I looked up, he was watching me.
“I’m going to download this white-noise app I love for you.”
Duncan kept watching me.
I played a couple of sounds for him. “What do you want?” I asked, trying to stay all business. “Ocean? Waterfall? Bath faucet?”
“You choose.”
But I kept going. “Car motor? Dishwasher? Campfire? You can combine them, too.”
“I trust you.”
In the end, I gave him what I had: thunderstorm, city trucks, and cat purr.
“This is going to change your life,” I said, turning it up a little.
“Perfect,” he said, eyes still closed. “I always knew you’d do that.”
“You should get some sleep now,” I said, setting his phone on the bedside table.
“Sam?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“I’m so sorry about your butterflies.”
Oh. “I am, too,” I said.
He let his eyes close again. “I just have to keep everybody safe.”
I couldn’t help it. I reached out and stroked his hair. “Nobody can keep everybody safe.”
He was half asleep. “I have to try.”
I watched him a minute, until I thought he was out, but when I shifted to stand, he took my hand and pulled me toward the bed. “Stay here with me,” he said.
“I can’t. I’ll be right nearby.”
“Stay here,” he said. He closed his eyes. “We’re never going to remember it, anyway.”
“You’re never going to remember it,” I said.
“Oh. Yeah.”
I stayed close by until he was truly out. And I could have walked back to the living room and curled up on the couch there. He never would have known the difference.
But I didn’t.
I edged around to the far side of the bed, kicked off my shoes, and let myself curl up beside him. And when Chuck Norris jumped up on the bed to sleep at our feet, I decided to just add it to the long list of things Duncan would be forgetting … and I let him.
fifteen
By the next morning, when I woke up at six, slipped my shoes back on, loaded up all of Duncan’s succulents into a grocery sack for a rescue-op, and snuck back down under the house to call a car, I had a lot to process.
Fact: I had slept with Duncan Carpenter.
In a manner of speaking.
It wasn’t quite as great as it sounded, but it was still pretty great.
I blamed the shirtlessness. And all his confessions. And the way he kept looking at me like he was in love.
Oh, and that epic, transformative, metamorphic kiss.
Jesus. I’m only human.
On the ride home I texted an APB to Babette and Alice to meet me in Babette’s kitchen.
Alice showed up first, which felt counterintuitive. But Babette was not much of a morning person.
“What’s up?” Alice said, when I let her in the back door.
“Shocking plot twist!” I announced. “Duncan Carpenter kissed me.”
Alice was not shocked. “You didn’t see that coming?”
“No! Did you?”
“We’ve been placing bets in the teachers’ lounge for weeks.”
“Alice! You can’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry, polka dots. I’m a vault.” Then, shaking her head: “I can’t believe it took so long.”
“Alice!” I scolded again. “He’s my boss.”
“Max was Babette’s boss.”
“No comparison!” I said.
“I’m just saying. Extenuating circumstances.”
“Alice! He’s the enemy! He painted over the butterflies.”
“With removable paint.”
“So he claims.”
Alice looked me over. “Are you trying to say it was a bad kiss?”
I shook my head. “It was an amazing kiss.”
She smiled, like That’s better. “Who kissed who?”
“He kissed me. But he fell on me first.”
“Case in point. You two had a spark from day one.”
I shook my head. “It’s a disaster.”
“Incorrect,” Alice declared. “Mathematically, it was almost unavoidable.”
“Alice,” I said, “there was no math involved. Trust me. This comes from a lady who never finished learning her times tables.”