He Bet I'd Still Drive Them to the Airport, So I Did novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: Porch Only, You Said

Padraig was in the shop with the saw off and a block of walnut in the vise.

He had changed his shirt.

He looked up when the bell over the door rang and put down the plane in his hand.

"You forgot something," he said.

"I didn't."

"The dog?"

"The dog is in my car with the window cracked. She is fine."

I shut the door behind me and turned the bolt.

His eyes followed my hand.

"Althea."

"Porch only, you said."

He went very still.

"I said that."

"You said it on Saturday, and you said it again at one in the morning with my hands on your face."

I walked toward him across the sawdust.

"I've been thinking about it all the way to Dunmore."

"You should go home."

"I should."

"You're carrying his baby."

"I'm carrying my baby," I said. "It happens to have his blood in it. That's all he gets."

"He's the father. You'll have him in your life for eighteen years."

He looked at the floor.

"You might get tired of fighting. He'll be sorry, and he'll cry, and he'll say it was one bad year."

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I'd be afraid of."

"Padraig." I stopped in front of him. "I would rather sleep in my car than go back to him."

His mouth moved.

It was almost a smile.

"I'm not going back to him," I said. "I'm standing in your shop. Tell me to go and I'll go."

He did not tell me.

He put both hands flat on the bench on either side of me, not touching.

He bent his head until his forehead rested on mine.

"We said until the divorce was final," he said, hoarse.

"I know."

"We said it so nobody could use us."

"They're already using us. They have a photograph."

"Althea."

"Then let's make it worth the photograph."

He laughed, once, shaking.

Then he kissed me.

It was not the careful kiss of the night before.

He kissed me hard, having lost the argument with himself, and he was glad.

My back met the edge of the bench and his hand came up into my hair.

I opened my mouth under his and tugged at his belt.

He caught my wrist.

"Upstairs," he said.

"Here."

"I'm not putting you on a workbench."

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