Looking Inside

“Yeah,” she agreed, her throat tightening. “Do you usually put it there? In the window facing Lake Shore Drive?”

“Yeah.”

She wiggled on the couch, starting to draw up her feet before she realized she still wore her shoes. She slouched back into the couch, too tired to remove them. Trey noticed. He set down his water on the coffee table and matter-of-factly bent to flip off one shoe.

“I’m not going to put up my tree this year,” she said through rubbery lips.

“How come?”

“My sister and I used to get together to decorate our condos. It was a tradition.”

Trey went still in the process of pulling off her second shoe. Through her haze of fatigue, she recognized she’d startled him. She’d surprised herself, by bringing up Caddy when she’d thought she wanted to avoid the topic at all costs. The mention of his Christmas tree had ripped the bandage off the wound.

“We’d do it on the first weekend after Thanksgiving. Drink hot chocolate. Listen to Christmas music. Put up our trees,” she continued hoar

sely. “I just don’t think I can do it alone.” She blinked heavy eyelids and focused on his face. “There,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I’ve talked about Caddy in front of you.”

“You loved her so much.”

Unwanted tears swelled in her eyes at his simple declaration. He’d read the truth on her face. She hated it, but her defenses felt threadbare at that moment. Suddenly, his arms surrounded her and his mouth was pressed against her temple. A shudder of emotion went through her.

“Shhh,” he said, his lips brushing her ear. “I’ve got you.”

If he’d uttered some platitude, like, “Everything is going to be okay,” she probably would have been able to keep herself together. It was his holding her so securely and saying those three words that made her lose it.

She shook. She wept without constraint, in a way she hadn’t since Caddy had passed. He didn’t speak, but his actions said so much. He just held her while she cried out her sadness and her fear, her grief and her loss. At some point, he broke their hold only to take her hot chocolate from her and place it on the table next to his water. She’d forgotten she’d been holding it. Wordlessly, he snagged a box of tissues from the table at the end of the couch, plucked out several, and handed them to her. Mortifyingly, the tears kept coming. He didn’t seem to mind. He just took her back into his arms and held her fast.

In the following fifteen minutes, she managed to use up most of the Kleenex box.

Finally, she just sagged against him, utterly spent. She blew her nose loudly. He plucked up all the discarded tissues in her lap and held out his hand expectantly when she’d finished blowing her nose. She grimaced, staring down at the damp, crumpled Kleenex in her hand.

“No, it’s too gross,” she muttered hoarsely.

“No. It’s not.”

She felt his lean body start against her. Startled, she glanced at his face. Strangely, he was smiling. She realized he’d been shaking in subdued laughter. He noticed her confused expression and wiped the grin off his face.

“Sorry. Just thought of something. Give it, Eleanor,” he insisted wryly, nodding at the crumpled tissue.

Reluctantly, she tried to set the well-used, balled-up tissue on top of the others, but he just grabbed it matter-of-factly. He rose from the couch, holding the used tissues in both hands. He was back within a minute.

“Lean back,” he urged, his deep, gruff voice penetrating her groggy, post-crying state. She followed his directions without hesitation or thought, sinking into the couch on her side. He came down next to her, so that they were belly to belly facing each other, their heads resting on the same cushion. He whisked a throw over them, tucking it carefully around her back. She blinked open her eyelids when he cupped her jaw in one big hand. An anxious thought entered her sluggish brain and she opened her mouth to voice it.

His finger slid across her numb lips as if to silence her.

“I have the alarm set on my phone. I’ll make sure you’re up in time so that you can get back to the hospital early,” he said quietly.

She exhaled in relief, moved by the fact that he’d anticipated her concern, and that he took care of her so well. So effortlessly.

The last thing she was aware of before she succumbed to sleep was his kiss on her mouth, soft and sweet, asking nothing from her.

Only giving.

TWENTY-ONE

She awoke to the same sensation: Trey’s mouth moving on hers. She awoke to need.

It was dark, and she felt warm. Secure. So good. She pressed closer to his long, solid body, craving his heat. His strength. Her body quickened in arousal. He groaned roughly when she deepened their kiss, his big hand running along the side of her body, detailing her shape.