by Susan Crosby
Arianna was sitting on the stoop.
“Took you long enough,” she said, her voice shaking.
He didn’t tell her why. She would insist they go back inside and ask the questions. The answers didn’t matter anymore.
He sat beside her, not quite close enough to touch, but almost.
“Why have you been coming to see my father?” he asked, looking straight ahead.
“He was kind to me years ago. Truly kind. My mother shouldn’t have—” She stopped. “I just needed to be with him. Okay?”
“Okay.” He looked at her then, his heart in his throat. She was kind, too. “Did you miss me?” he asked quietly.
She met his gaze. Finally she nodded.
“You can’t say it?” he persisted.
“You first.”
He wanted to laugh. Instead he said, “I missed you.”
“Me, too.”
He wove his fingers with hers. “I wasn’t ignoring you last night. When I saw you about to get hurt, your life passed before my eyes. It twisted me up inside so much I could hardly think. All I wanted to do was carry you away and take care of you. The thought of you hurt…”
She leaned against him. He kissed her hair. His eyes stung.
“I had to do my job. I couldn’t do that and take care of you at the same time.”
“I know,” she said. “I was being selfish. After it was over and I realized how close I came to—” She stopped. “I didn’t know what to do. I’m so used to handling everything alone, but I wanted you to be with me. To take care of me. That was a first. I thought it was a weakness, so I ran away. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Don’t do it again.”
She laughed a little. “I won’t.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said in a voice he hadn’t heard before. One filled with tenderness and relief and ferocity.
Then he kissed her. The first kiss of a lifetime. There would be plenty more—good-morning and good-night kisses, passionate ones, tender ones. Make-up kisses, we’re-going-to-have-a-baby kisses, the-baby-looks-like-you kisses. And so many more.
But this one was the most special.
“Let’s go see your father,” she said after a while.
He nodded, wondering which father would greet them, but knowing that either one would be okay. Everything was going to be okay.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8032-2
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Copyright © 2004 by Susan Bova Crosby
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