Finding Solace

“Why?”

I fess up, and by fessing up, I mean, I lie while pouring more wine to forget the real reason I didn’t bring the cobbler. “I burned it. It’s tragic, actually.”

“Damn. I’d say so. I was looking forward to it.”

“I’ll make another tomorrow. I promise.”

His knee knocks into mine. “Well, since you promised and all.”

Two bottles of wine are emptied before we decide to call it a night. After clearing the table out back, we bring the rest of the food inside and wrap it up. I’m trying to pretend I’m not feeling every drop of that wine running through my veins, but it’s hard. I don’t drink much these days.

Jason hugs his mom. “I’ll finish in here. You go relax.”

“Thank you, son.” She kisses his cheek.

She comes to me, and with my face between her hands, she says, “I’m so glad you’re back in his life.”

“Me too.”

“And mine, Delilah. It’s so good to see you smiling again.” She embraces me.

Meredith has always been a loving woman, but tonight, I feel closer to her than ever. “Thank you for having me over.”

“My pleasure, dear.” She glances at her son. “Jason, you’ll see her home safely?”

I find we both struggle to keep our eyes off each other. Hands too, but we’ve done a better job of that with his mom around. Though all bets are off when she’s gone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night,” we say in unison as she slips out of the kitchen.

After cleaning the dishes, Jason comes over and takes my hand. “Are you ready?”

“Born ready for you.”

His chuckle is deep, but he keeps it under wraps so it doesn’t travel through the house. “You’re drunk, Delilah.”

“Not drunk . . .” I waver, trying to pinch my fingers together. “Okay, maybe a little tipsy, but you make me feel the same way.”

“You get drunk on me?”

“You’re a very dangerous man to my self-control.”

A thumb runs over his bottom lip. “What am I going to do with you?”

Throwing myself at him, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Take me home and have your wicked way with me?” I hear the hope in my voice when I was going for sultry.

“Who needs dessert when I have other ways of satisfying my sweet tooth? C’mon. I’m taking you home.”

“I want you to stay the night.”

He holds the door open for me. “You couldn’t keep me away, honeysuckle.”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes me think he might be right. Luckily for me, I don’t want to keep him away.

He grabs a backpack by the door. “Change of clothes,” he adds.

“You’re prepared.”

“Always, baby.”

It’s pitch-black in the country. It’s not a long drive, but it’s long enough for the wine to settle my mind and lull me into the melody of the night. Parking out front, he comes around and picks me up. “You don’t have to carry me,” I lamely protest by completely relaxing in his arms.

“I want to.”

Just that simple.

I once believed I knew exactly where I stood with him. If I hadn’t been blinded by feelings of betrayal and hurt, I would have realized he hadn’t changed. He just opens up and tells it like it is. He says what he likes and what he wants with no room for misunderstanding.

“Bedroom or living room?” He kicks the door closed and then locks the bolt.

“Living room. Want to watch TV?”

“Sure.” He sets me on the couch and then clicks on some manhunt show that is way too boring to watch. I straddle his lap, and the show is forgotten as we find ourselves tangled in love right where we are. With our bodies joined in passion, I slow down on top of him and kiss his cheek. “I hate the years you were gone.”

Pushing my hair back, he stares up at me on his lap. “I never left you. You were always on my mind.”

17

Jason

Delilah snores.

I think it’s just from being drunk and sleeping so deeply, but I never noticed it before. It’s cute when she does it, like a little snuffle-snort. My body shakes from laughter. I’ve tried to hold it back so the disruption doesn’t wake her. I take her shoes off and work the covers over her, tucking her in and sitting beside her.

Being in her life wasn’t something I dreamed possible years or even months ago. Hell, two days ago, I was coming out here just to see if she’d even talk to me, so I’m not sure I can feel settled forty-eight hours later that everything will be all right. I want to, though. For her and for me. I want her. I want this life with her.

A slower pace would do me some good and having a home base would be even better. A companion. A partner. A lover. A wife . . . It’s something I never thought probable, but now that I’m in the middle of the possibilities with her, I don’t want to leave.