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The stitches that held me together had been ripped apart, and I would never pretend to be whole again without him. I would never attempt to fit someone in his place again. I would never know the power he held over me in anyone else.
“Why couldn’t you just let us be?” he asked, and I realized I had more tears spilling onto my cheeks.
“I was too afraid.”
He sat back against the wall.
I watched him with wide eyes, unsure what would come next.
“Do you want this?” His eyes were on his hands and when he looked up at me, I was tempted to look away. He was looking at me like I was everything.
And to be looked at like that, with my track record…
“More than anything,” I said.
He nodded and stood and I didn’t understand what was going on. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “You need time. After Theo, you need to be sure.” I opened my mouth to interrupt and he placed his fingers on my lips. “And I need it, too.”
I wanted to say more but he lifted my chin and kissed me.
“Don’t worry. I can’t stay away for too long, Blue. I love you too much.”
When he walked away and shut the front door behind him, I wished to have gotten a peek inside his head. To have felt what he felt when it was his turn to walk away.
And to no longer wonder if and when he’d come back.
Noa
Dexter did stay away.He continued to keep our Dylan schedule and when he picked him up or dropped him off, it was always the same. He’d smile, lean in, and kiss my cheek. I’d inhale him momentarily and sigh.
He’d tell me to call him if I needed him and then he’d leave.
But didn’t he know I needed him now?
I wondered how many of his fingerprints I wore on my skin. And I wondered how many of his words lived in my head. Mostly, I wondered when he’d come back to me to collect them, to reclaim them—or me.
When would I experience him again?
As the days turned to weeks, I tried to keep busy. I painted, I watched Dylan learn more and more words. He formed sentences, and he kept me grounded and focused on life. But every time I saw Dexter, I threatened to float free.
I wrote him little love letters in my mind. Ones that I imagined would make him smile. That slow spread of pleasure. I wanted so badly to be the curve behind his lips.
Then one day, Dexter came in. I was in the middle of making dinner, Salsa music blaring in my kitchen when he decided to step inside, a smile on his face. I ran to turn the speaker down. When I looked up, he was right in front of me.
“I like you like this,” he said as he reached up to tuck a loose strand behind my ear. “I never knew you listened to this music.”
I snorted. “How could Inotlove Hector Lavoe?”
He raised his brows and I shook my head, hoping he’d tell me why he was here. Hoping he was ready to finally be with me.
He sat at my kitchen table and I didn’t know how to react as I checked on the rice I’d been cooking.
“You know Dylan’s with Miranda, right?” I asked as I placed the lid back on the pot and looked at him.
He nodded, and I asked him outright what he was doing here, to which he chuckled.
“How’s Phoebe?” I asked him. I did miss seeing her. I hadn’t heard from Rachel. Dexter didn’t bring her up in the few minutes I’d see him, which made me happy. She was the last person I wanted to hear about.
“She’s good. I…I think Rachel is having a hard time. Every time I see her, she looks like she hasn’t showered or slept.”
