Текст книги "Wet"

Автор книги: Ruth Clampett

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Holy hell.

My eyes pop open and I peel her off me so I can hand the guy a ten and get my keys.

“You sure?” she asks as the Uber driver tries to get her attention.

I do what I did so many times back in the day and it makes me feel dirty but I do it anyway—the McNeill brush-off. It’s all in the presentation. I take her chin in my hand and run my thumb back and forth along her jaw, while looking in her eyes like I’m peering into her soul. “I’ll call you,” I say just loud enough for her to think she heard me right but can’t be sure.

I may be a liar too, but at least it’s to avoid hurting someone.

She winks with the thrill of what she imagine is up ahead, and turns on her heel before sliding into her ride.

I take a deep breath to get my bearings as the Uber guy drives off.

Thank God. Free at last.

I’m numb the next day. How do you process so much shit at once? The girl that had lingered on the edge of all my fantasies as a young man, has now taken a swan dive right into never ever land. I should be relieved to be free of all of those years of frustration but I’m more pent up than ever.

The feelings remind me of Chelsea, a girl I was really into my first year of college. I sat next to her in the History of Landscape Architecture class and we started talking. I’d never met anyone who had such similar taste to mine and shared my passion for landscape design.

She was beautiful too, in that quiet way that didn’t shout for attention. We had coffee after class once in a while, and we even studied together, but every time I’d ask her out for anything not involving schoolwork, she’d brush me off. I was falling for her, and her disregard of my obvious interest in her was making me crazy.

Right after our quarter-finals there was a department party, and I was hoping she’d show up so I could finally connect with her the way I’d hoped. Well, she showed up all right. Not only was she wearing a short skirt and make-up, she hard– core flirted with at least half-a-dozen upperclassmen, but avoided me completely. I was initially confused, then gutted, and finally angry.

I left the party that night with a thick shell cemented over my heart, and a redhead from our program on my arm. By morning, I felt high realizing that wild sex with strangers could be my crack. My days of chasing the right girl were over. The new me embraced the pleasures of being with all the wrong girls who put-out, and never made me feel like I wasn’t important enough. Instead these girls made me feel like a porn star and my ego inflated like a hot air balloon.

Unfortunately, for me casual sex, like crack, was incredibly addictive. My constant craving for release, led me into an insatiable obsession that I may always struggle with. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if my Dad hadn’t forced me to get my shit together.

As the afternoon passes it weighs on me that Elle called me late last night and didn’t leave a message. She knew where I was going and probably now wants a full report. Do I tell her about the kiss with Melanie, as disingenuous as it was? I’m not sure if she’d be happier if I had found a love connection, or disappointed. That mysterious part of her is usually a turn-on but right now it’s just unsettling. It’s too soon for me to upset her again. I’m determined to tread carefully so I decide to wait to call her until I’m ready.

But when I get home from my after-work run she’s sitting on the stair leading to my front door chewing her thumbnail. I’m sweaty, winded, and gross.

Great . . . just great.

She grins and gives me a little wave. “Hi Paul!”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, not hiding my alarm. I’ve never given her my address. It’s not like where I live in Beachwood Canyon is around the corner from Studio City.

Her eyes grow wide. I guess that isn’t the greeting she was expecting. “I was waiting for you.”

I peel the sweaty shirt away from my chest. “I can see that. Are you okay? Everything okay with the baby?”

“Yeah, it was a rough day at work but we’re okay.”

I finally remember my manners. “Do you want to come in?”

“Are you sure? You act like you don’t want company.” I can tell she’s trying not to not assume anything.

“How’d you get my address anyway?”

“Your mom. By the way she wants me to remind you that there’s no family dinner this week. They’re going to visit your aunt.”

I nod. “Yeah, I remember.” I jog up the steps until I reach her and I hold out my hand. “Let’s go inside. I just have to jump in the shower.”

She nods. “While you shower, do you have anything I can eat? I was so busy I didn’t have time today.”

“Elle,” I say in a stern voice.

She holds up her hand. “I know, I know.”

“You have to take care of the two of you.”

“That’s why I’m asking if you have any food.”

I let us in the house and head to the kitchen. “How about a turkey and cheese sandwich?”

“Perfect. Thanks.” She leans against the kitchen counter as I wash my hands and then watches me throw the sandwich together. I pull out some grapes and carrot sticks from the fridge and make a pattern with them around the plate before handing the sandwich to her.

She grins. “That’s so pretty.”

I shrug. It’s no big deal and she needs to eat fruits and vegetables. “It’s the designer in me.”

While she eats I gather the clothes I’m going to change into so she doesn’t have to watch me walk through the apartment naked. I know she probably wouldn’t mind that, but we’re still on unsteady ground so it’s better to play it safe. She’s humming a little song in between bites when I head to the bathroom and it makes me smile.

But I’m not even out of the shower for a minute and preparing to shave when she knocks on the bathroom door. I quickly pull a towel around my waist and yank the door open.

Her mouth falls agape as her gaze scans from my shoulders, across my chest, and then lingers right where the towel is wrapped tight. What did she expect?

Her cheeks turn pink as she looks back up to me.

“Your body,” she whispers.

“Yes?”

“It’s amazing. And you’re so tall and handsome too. You could model you know.”

“Uh, definitely not my thing, but thanks. I’m glad you think so.”

There’s a tightness of anticipation in my chest. It wouldn’t surprise me if Elle reached forward and tugged at the towel. I start to get hard just thinking about it.

She blinks, I blink. Damn, I want to kiss her so bad.

She sighs and looks at my shoulder and then just beyond.

What’s she thinking? “You want to take a shower?” I ask, hoping she knows I’m teasing.

“With you?” She actually looks hopeful.

I tip my head sideways and give her a half-smile before I shake my head.

“I just showered, where were you then? I would’ve liked having my back soaped up.”

Her eyes light up. “Just your back?”

She glances down as if she knows the damn towel is starting to tent, but then she reaches out to hold onto the door jam.

“You okay?” I ask, trying to get her to look up at my face.

She nods and clears her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m kind of dizzy. Do you mind if I lie on your couch?”

“You don’t need to ask that, of course you can.”

“But it doesn’t look like a couch you lie on.”

I roll my eyes knowing she’s right. That’s what I get for buying a designer sofa. All looks but no comfort.

“Do you know why you’re dizzy?”

“I over-did it today.”

I gesture to the doorway just past where we’re standing. “Please lie on the bed. I’m pretty sure I made it this morning.”

She nods and turns toward the bedroom.

After I finish pulling on clean jeans and a T-shirt, I check in the kitchen and grab her unfinished sandwich and a glass of milk. I find her stretched out on my bed with her eyes closed. I set the stuff down on the side table and rest my hand on her calf.

“Hey, you okay?”

She silently nods without opening her eyes.

“I brought your sandwich in. Why don’t you eat some more?”

“Are you mad I dropped by?”

“No, I’m not mad. Just surprised. But now that you know where I am you can drop by whenever you want.”

The corners of her mouth turn up and her eyes pop open. “Really?”

I scoot her legs over and sit on the edge of the bed. “Sure.”

She sits up and picks up the glass of milk, and taking several long sips she starts back in on the sandwich. While she eats she regards my bedroom, and seems to be taking everything in with great interest. It makes me see my stuff with a fresh eye.

She points to the black and white prints framed on my walls. “What’s with all the photos of bridges?”

I tip my head as I scan the images. “I think they’re fascinating. Bridges get you places. If they weren’t there you’d have a hard time going to those places.”

She looks at me with a surprised expression, like I have a milk mustache I forgot to wipe off or something.

“What?”

“That’s really great. I didn’t know you were so deep.” She winks at me.

“Oh, I’m deep, so deep—an endless well really. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on that until now.”

I’m glad to see her looking better.

“Well, now I know. And I like your place. It’s cool. Not exactly like I imagined.”

“And how did you imagine it?”

“Not so thought out. Everything works together design wise . . . it’s pretty sophisticated for a dude.”

“You still think I’m your sprinkler man, don’t you? I’m a designer, remember?”

“Well that explains the sage-colored walls and couch you can’t lie down on.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Are you really going to shame me for my couch?”

She bites her lip. She looks like she’s holding back a grin. “Nah. You know I love designer stuff.”

“I’ll say. Look at your place.”

“Watch out. I’m feeling hormonal.”

I drop my arms down to my sides. “Thanks for the warning.”

She pats the spot on the bed next to her. “Come sit over here.”

When I sit on the opposite side of the bed she slides a little closer to me.

“So which is your favorite bridge picture?”

I don’t even pause to think about it. “The one of the Golden Gate Bridge. I love how it’s rising out of the fog. It’s like you don’t know where you’re going to end up or how you got there.”

“But because it’s a steady bridge you trust that it’s going to be okay on the other side,” she says quietly.

I nod.

She slides farther down on the bed and I follow suit.

“So how was your date last night?”

“Is that why you came over?”

“Well you didn’t return my call, so I figured something big must have happened.”

“What if it did? Would you be happy?”

Her eyebrows knit together like she’s thinking really hard, but finally she says softly, “Yes, I would be happy.”

“Well yeah, something really big happened.” I’m about to tell her what a let– down the evening was when she jumps in with a true Elle inquiry.

“Oh my God. Was the sex phenomenal?”

“I promised you we wouldn’t talk about that.”

“But I need to hear.”

“Why?”

“If I can’t have mind-blowing sex at least I can live vicariously through you.”

“And what if it wasn’t mind-blowing?”

“Make something up, damn it! And make me believe it.”

“But I promised not to do this!”

She grabs my T-shirt in the center of my chest, makes a fist of it and pulls hard until we are face-to-face.

“To hell with the promise! I need it, Paul. I was up all night imagining it.”

Her cheeks are hot pink and I remember the hormone warning. At this point I’d tell her anything to keep her calm considering the shape she was in when she showed up here.

“Okay, I’ll tell you if it’s really what you want.”

She nods and lets out a sigh. Her fingers loosen on my T-shirt.

Where do I start with this fiction story? At least the first detail can be honest.

“So Melanie and I met at Osteria Mozza.”

She shakes her head firmly. “I don’t want to hear about the restaurant unless you had sex in the bathroom.”

This woman.

“So no build-up? Got it.”

“Yeah, get to the good stuff.”

“We’d both been drinking and the flirting was really intense, so when we got out to the valet stand she pushed me up against the building and ground all that sexiness up against me.”

“In front of everyone?” she says with her mouth agape.

“Oh yeah. I bet I could have fucked her right there and she would have gone for it. She dug her hand into my back pocket and grabbed my ass like she meant business.”

“Was the anaconda awake?”

“Hell yes,” I lie.

“Oh God, I bet she liked that.”

“Judging from the way she grabbed onto it and moaned I would say so.”

“Hot damn. So there was grinding and what else? Kissing?”

“Naturally.”

“Is she a good kisser?”

“Incredible kisser.” I’m full on lying now. What the fuck?

She sighs. “Oh man, I love great kissing.”

“Yeah, it was so hot.”

“Was there lots of tongue action? Was it so good you got dizzy?”

If she only knew how not dizzy I got. “My head was spinning it was so hot.”

“Oh God,” Elle says as she unbuttons the top button of her shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to get alarmed.

“Don’t worry. I’m just trying to get some air on the girls. I’m burning up.”

“Do you want some ice cubes to suck on? I’ve heard pregnant ladies like that.”

Grinning, she shakes her head. “So did you go to her house or yours, or wait! You didn’t do it in the car, did you?”

“Oh course not!” I respond, pretending to be offended. “I’m classier than that on a first date.”

“What about by the fourth or fifth date?”

“Anything’s possible by then.”

She chuckles. “Okay, but back to last night . . .”

“So we went to her place.” My mind scrambles to make up where she lives but Elle takes care of that reminding me that extraneous details are frowned upon.

“Did you go straight to the bedroom?”

I nod. “Most of her clothes were off by the time we got there, and damn she is fine. What a sexy body.”

Am I imagining things, or did Elle just snarl and bare her teeth?

“Of course, Ms. Perfect is fine. Don’t worry about the chubby pregnant hormonal girl over here. Let’s hear about her perfectly flat stomach and long, lean legs.”

“Geez, Elle, next time we do this can you give me the rulebook first? How am I supposed to know what you want to hear versus what will piss you off? Besides, what the hell do you mean chubby? You’re not chubby.”

She runs her hands over her hips and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. So did she worship the anaconda?”

“Are you asking if she dropped to her knees to blow me?”

She bites her knuckle and nods. I’m really wondering if this is a good idea.

She looks so excited but this could implode any second.

I let out a low whistle. “Yes, she did and she sucks cock even better than she kisses.”

“Did you run your fingers through her hair, and watch?”

“Naturally. What? You thought I’d close my eyes while that was going on?”

“My ex used to close his eyes.”

“And . . .” I prompt while waving my hand.

“He’s an idiot!” She grins.

“Believe me, Elle, if your mouth was on me I’d never take my eyes off you.”

I’m picturing it in my head and the heat moves down my chest straight to my groin.

She curls closer to me . . . too close. “Damn, you know how to make a girl feel great.”

“Well, I mean it.” And if she only knew how much I did mean it . . . how she was the only woman I fantasize about doing that with now. Elle’s pretty lips on me . . . oh man.

“Did she swallow?”

Geez.

Knowing I have to prolong my story, I shake my head. “No, I needed to fuck her, so I lifted her onto the bed.”

Elle is pressing her thighs together rhythmically. “Did you crawl over her like a wild beast?” She undoes another button on her shirt and pulls the collar further open.

“Is that what you would want me to do, Elle?” I ask, my gaze falling from her hooded eyes, to her flushed neck, to the sheen of perspiration at her cleavage now exposed.

She reaches over and digs her fingers into my forearms. “Oh, yes. That’s what I would want.”

“Well I did that. And she started to beg for it, so I pulled her legs apart and rubbed myself against her to make sure she was ready for all of me. Cause you know . . .”

“Oh God, she must have been so wet. I am,” she groans.

My eyes bug out. “You’re wet?”

“Hell yes. I’ve never been this turned on.”

Now that I think of it, neither have I. But I don’t want to tell her that. This is confusing enough as it is. I’m trying to find the brain in my foggy head—since all the blood is below my belt—when I suddenly feel her hand skim all the way up my fly. There’s no question anymore for her as to whether I’m aroused or not. I’ve never been this hard. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised my cock hasn’t done a Hulk move and busted out of my jeans.

“Wow, Paul,” she moans.

I’m barely holding on at this point.

She closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths like she’s trying to calm herself down. I’m not sure I’ll ever be calm again.

“Should I stop?” I ask in a ragged voice.

“Please don’t stop,” she gasps.

“Where was I?”

“So did you fuck her hard? How did she like it?” Her hand wraps around her flushed neck.

I imagine Elle spread out on the bed under me, and the look of want in her eyes. I know for a fact that I’ve never wanted anyone more. What if?

My impatient friend squeezes my arm. “Well?”

“Did I fuck her hard? No, not at first. Slow. I fucked her slow. I wanted to let it build so she’d feel everything. I wanted to watch her and see what she liked.”

“Of course you did,” she says with an envious sigh.

“And I kissed her, and gave her breasts the attention they deserved. She liked that a lot. It made her wild.”

She runs her hands up her torso and over her breasts, which only pulls her shirt open further. “Oh . . . I bet she did. Did she let you know how good it was?”

“She begged for more and thrashed and moaned a lot . . . so yeah.”

“Were her legs wrapped tightly around you?”

“Naturally. Her movements were in perfect rhythm with mine. It was unbelievable.”

“Please tell me you kissed her breasts, too?” She undoes another button.

We’re in the danger zone now. I’m already imagining I’m doing all of these things to Elle and not Melanie. I’m not sure how much restraint I have left in my reserve. I want her desperately.

I lean in closer to Elle’s face and look her in the eye. “I didn’t just kiss her breasts. I sucked them.”

As I look at her I find myself licking my lips, they’re so dry from my deep breathing.

The intensity must be too much because she shuts her eyes and turns away from me. I see a tear make its way down her flushed cheek. I slowly run my fingertip along its wet path to take it away as my mind tries to process where I screwed this up. Just because she said she wanted to hear about the sex, doesn’t mean it was the right thing for her.

“Elle?”

She’s taking short, choppy breaths and a sudden fury explodes in my chest. Why did I go along with this? Any man in his right mind would know this was the worst idea ever.

Rising up on my elbow, I gently take her chin in my hand and tilt her face back toward me. “Elle. Elle,” I say softly, “what’s wrong?”

She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, which sends new tears cascading down her face.

“Please tell me what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was making up that stuff. I swear, Elle, it didn’t go like that at all.”

“Really?” she asks with wide eyes.

“Really. I promise.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just sad because I want all that and who knows when I’ll ever have it again.”

The tears fall faster now.

“You mean sex?” I ask.

“Not just sex. It’s being intimate, and being touched. I’m just wired that way, Paul. I need to be touched. It grounds me. It’s only been a matter of weeks and I feel like part of me is dying inside.”

“I can touch you,” I say, in a lame attempt to soothe her. I run my hand up her arm and squeeze her shoulder.

She sighs and it’s the saddest sigh I’ve ever heard. “I adore you for that, but I want my body touched.”

“How about if you got massages. I know a place that’s supposed to be great.”

She looks at me like she can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. She runs her fingertips up and down my forearm. It sends an electrical charge right through me.

“Will they massage my boobs?”

“What?” I ask, trying to keep my eyebrows from darting into my hairline. The hormones have clearly rendered her with temporary insanity. What woman gets a boob massage?

“That’s what I want more than anything. I want my boobs touched.”

I clear my throat. “Um, I’m pretty sure this place doesn’t do that. And places I know that will I wouldn’t ever take you to.”

“You could do it, you know. You could touch them.” She bites her lip and looks up at me.

That doesn’t help—at all.

“That would be really difficult and complicated for me,” I stutter. She’s pregnant and hormonal for God’s sake. My physical desire for her is so far past my craving to get off with a hot woman. I’m desperate to make love to her, but every choice I make now, no matter how tortured, has to be what’s best for her and the baby.

She takes my hand in hers and slides it over her chest. “It’s really not that complicated. Pretend I’m a mannequin.”

“Right, a really chatty mannequin,” I say as she moves my hand over her chest in broad circles while I desperately try not to glance down.

As her movements continue her expression softens, almost melting. She looks positively blissful and it keeps me from doing the right thing and pulling my hand away. I realize that there’s heat emanating from my hand, like one of those creepy faith healers I’ve heard about. The question is, am I healing her or is she healing me?

A moment later I feel flesh against flesh and I look down to see that she’s opened her shirt completely and my hand is resting just above her cleavage while she unhooks the front of her bra.

Oh good God.

“Elle,” I groan.

“Please, Paul. Just a minute or two. Please?”

When our eyes meet she looks hopeful yet full of fear that I’ll turn her down. I know she needs this but how dangerous is it for me to be the one to give it to her? The thing that makes up my mind is wondering if not me, who? That’s unfathomable to even think about.

As I slide my fingertips down between her luscious breasts and circle her torso I take in her perfection. She is completely vulnerable and exposed, and her trust in me takes my breath away.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper.

Her breath catches as my right hand moves up to cup her breast, so full and perfect. When my left hand cups the other breast her back arches up to meet my grasp. I am gentle and slow as I touch her, and her tears are still flowing but I know it’s different now. She’s smiling like I’ve never seen her smile before.

I love her breasts. They’re my new favorite part of her as I palm and squeeze them and she sighs with contentment below me. Her skin is exquisitely soft and her nipples a ruby rose. I avoid touching them, even though I ache to. It’s just more than I can handle.

The next time I look up at her I can no longer remember tired, defeated Elle that sat on my top step waiting for me. This angel is luminous, her eyes softly shine and it’s taking everything I have not to run my lips along all her curves, marking her with my trail of kisses.

I press my lips against her ear.

“I’m going to need to stop,” I say with some urgency. I’m starting to lose my composure. I fear I’ll be pulling her panties off any moment if this doesn’t end.

She nods with understanding. She takes the edges of the bra in each hand and as I start to pull my hands away so she can close the clasp she gazes up at me.

“Can you just touch my nipples once?”

I can’t say no. With each hand still cupping a breast I run the pads of my thumbs over their peaks, and she shudders with such a moan that I feel like I’m going to lose it without even being touched.

I regretfully pull my hands away and she slowly fastens her bra shut and then fastens her shirt back up.

“Oh wow,” she says with a smile.

“Is that a good wow?”

“An all caps, bold font with several exclamation points, kind of wow.”

“I’m glad to be of service.”

“You have no idea how much I needed that. Can we do that on a regular basis?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Really? I think it’s the best idea ever.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make you happy but this is a lot for me to handle.”

She gestures to her open shirt. “I warned you they were bigger now.”

“It’s not that. Well, you know . . . I’m a man, Elle.”

She nods with a very serious expression. “And you have needs?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I could help with that,” she replies with an arched brow.

“That’s not what I’m asking for. I just want you to understand that touching you is . . . exciting. And when I get excited, all bets are off. You don’t know what I can be like.”

“I wish I could see you like that.”

I shake my head at her.

“You know what? I’m going to give you something that I’m pretty sure isn’t what you want but I think you need.”

“Oh yeah? What do you think I need?

“Affection.”

The idea of expressing affection isn’t high on my radar. I imagine her patting my head and giving me a teddy bear. “Is that so?

“It is. And I want to give it to you. Here, close your eyes and relax.”

This woman.

“Can you tell me what the difference between affection and sex is?” I ask. I’m really not sure.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”

“But, you don’t know?”

“I guess I don’t.”

“Affection is from the heart.”

“So what are you going to give me?”

“Close your eyes.”

Teddy bears be damned . . . my mind goes all kinds of wild places, happy places, Elle touching me in ways she hasn’t before.

She taps me on the chest and I realize that not only are my eyes not closed, they are wide in anticipation.

“Eyes closed, please.”

“I like when you ask nicely.”

She takes her fingers and gently brushes them down my eyelids until my eyes are shut. I feel her fingertips skim down my cheek and along my jaw.

“See, that’s nicely,” I say.

“Mmm, hmm.”

I’m acutely aware of every sensation: the way her body is leaning into mine, her subtle fragrance, and the tickle of the ends of her hair brushing along my forearm.

“What are you going to do?” I ask impatiently.

“Shhhhh.”

I feel pressure on my torso as she leans in closer to me and my heart starts thundering. I also feel pressure in my chest like I can’t catch my breath I’m so wound up to see what she’s thinking.

When I feel her soft lips brush against mine, it takes everything I have not to open my eyes. She pulls away as quickly as she arrived leaving me aching for more. I hold still as a statue. This can’t be it. There has to be more. I’m not even sure I’m breathing as I wait to see what happens next.

My reserve either inspires or challenges her, and she hikes herself up higher and her leg folds across my thigh. I grasp my hand in the bend of her leg to secure her against me.

Everything is different when her lips press against mine and seem to melt. She’s kissing me gently and slow, but the emotion I sense behind it feels like it’s important to her and I kiss her back with the same intensity. My arm slides around her to pull her close and her breasts press against my chest. Every second of this is unbelievably great, and I never want it to end.

Kissing Elle is unlike any kiss I’ve ever had. I’ve never felt so much . . . not just in the obvious places, but inside my chest. It’s fucking unreal. I run my fingers through her hair and kiss her back from the heart. I can sense what it’s doing to her and I like it.

Just when I think more has to happen she pulls away and snuggles into me.

Damn.

“How was that?” she whispers.

Words can’t define how I feel so I respond simply. “I liked it.”

“Me too.”

We lie silently for a few minutes while I trace my fingers over her back and try to figure out what to make of what just happened.

“Can we do that affection thing on a regular basis?” I ask.

She smiles and for a brilliant moment the room lights up.

“Maybe.”

I think of the look on her face when I told her I couldn’t handle touching her regularly. “Payback?”

“Maybe.” But then she reaches up and kisses me on the cheek.

What the hell are we doing? This is the weirdest relationship I’ve ever been in. What’s even worse is that I don’t just like it, I’m starting to need it. I need her and I’ve never been in this situation and it scares the fuck out of me. She’s pregnant with another man’s baby. I’m on the sidelines, hoping I’ll get called into the game to be quarterback before the fourth quarter. What if I don’t?

“Hey, Paul,” she whispers with a sleepy voice.

I can tell she’s going to fall asleep in my arms again and I want her to. “Yeah?”

“You know all that stuff you were saying about your favorite photograph of the bridges?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“How you said it’s like you don’t know where you’re going to end up or how you got there, but that it’s a steady bridge and you trust that it’s going to be okay on the other side?”

I nod. “I remember. Why?”

She sighs and rests her open palm on my chest.

“You’re my bridge.”