Chapter 22: Stay

Bethany's POV

The carriage house was dark when we got there, a little before three.

The paper lanterns still hung along the drive, gone gray with dew.

The banner over the door had slipped on one side and hung crooked.

Derrick reached up and pulled it down in one long tear, and dropped it on the stones.

I took my own key out of my evening bag.

It was the first time in two years I had let myself in without ringing a bell.

The rooms were empty and smelled faintly of lavender.

Dean's coats were gone from the hall, and so was Heidi's chair.

Somebody had left a baby bottle in the sink.

I switched on the kitchen light.

The kitchen table is old oak, and it has a chip out of one corner, from the winter I dropped a cast-iron pan on it.

Derrick stopped in the doorway with his hands at his sides.

I knew exactly where he would stand, and I knew he would stay there until someone told him not to.

"Sit," I said.

"Bethany."

"Sit down, Derrick."

He pulled out the chair beside the chipped corner, and sat.

I poured a glass of milk, and put it in front of him, and he looked at it, and his throat moved.

"That's mine," I said. "I'll have the next one."

"You remembered."

"You told me in a car. I heard every word."

I stood between his knees.

The gown had a long zipper down my back, and I could not reach it.

"Help me," I said.

He stood.

He did not undo the zipper right away.

He rested his forehead against mine, and for a moment we only breathed.

"No terms," I said. "No one night. You can talk about tomorrow all you like."

"Tomorrow," he said, against my mouth.

"Tomorrow."

He kissed me then.

It was slow and unhurried, and it went on until my hands were holding his lapels and my knees had gone soft.

The zipper came down one tooth at a time, with his knuckles brushing my spine.

The gown fell, and I stepped out of it onto the kitchen tiles.

He took his time looking, in the yellow light, with his hand flat on my belly.

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