Chapter 14: Say You're Staying

The door swung in, and he kicked it shut behind us.

The room was dark except for the streetlight through the blinds.

It smelled like him, cedar and soap and the cold he'd carried in.

He backed me against the door and kissed me again, slower, in no hurry now.

"Take it off," I said, and pulled at his shirt.

He got it over his head one-handed.

I had forgotten his chest, the width of it, the dark hair thinning toward his belt.

I put my mouth on his collarbone, and he swore under his breath.

"My turn," he said.

He took the hem of my sweater and drew it up, and his knuckles dragged over my ribs the whole way.

The sweater dropped on the floor.

He looked at me in my bra and jeans, and his breathing changed.

"I'm not who you married," I said.

I hadn't meant to say it.

It came out small, from somewhere under the two years.

"No," he said.

My stomach dropped.

"You're the one who stayed."

He went down on one knee in front of me, in the dark, with his big hands on my hips.

He unbuttoned my jeans and eased them down my legs, and when he reached my stomach he stopped.

The scar from the twins ran low across my belly, pale and thin.

I had never let him see it in the light.

He kissed it.

He kissed the whole length of it, slowly, his mouth warm and a little rough, and I had to put my hand on his head to stay standing.

"I never thanked you for them," he said into my skin.

"Keith."

"Both of them. Four years. I never said it."

"Get up here," I whispered, "before I cry on you."

He stood and picked me up in one move, my legs around his waist, and carried me to the bed.

The sheets were cold against my back.

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