CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
When I opened my eyes, it was early evening and the sun was setting; it took me a few seconds to realize that Kael hadn’t come back yet. I went to our text thread and there was nothing from him. A bubble of uncertainty filled my lungs. I’m sure he was okay and just busy handling Mendoza. He wasn’t ghosting me, I told myself again. As I debated texting Kael, Elodie sent a picture of herself in a pink sweater with her short blond hair in two low pigtails. How adorable! When I asked her where she was, she said she was at another FRG gig, a cookout this time. And that she’d been invited on a girls’ trip to Atlanta to do some shopping. She was excited to browse for baby clothes and the latest gear—but even more excited that she’d been included spur-of-the-moment to go along. I nearly asked her if she’d heard from Kael, but I didn’t want to seem overly interested; she must already be wondering what the hell was going on between us.
I threw in a load of laundry before turning to the unwashed pile of dishes and glasses in the sink. I hated hand-washing and reminded myself that one day I would finally buy a dishwasher. I hadn’t done much and had slept most of the day, but my head ached and I took a Tylenol and gulped down a glass of water before making my way back to my room. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Kael. I remembered the first day I saw him in the lobby at work—the mysterious client who later refused to take off his sweats or let me touch his right leg. Now he wasn’t a stranger, but he still hadn’t shown me his legs, not once. He was always dressed from the waist down, and I cared too much about his trauma to force him to explain. There were so many other beautiful parts of him that he didn’t keep a secret. Maybe he would tell me, or even show me the rest, when he was ready.
I remembered how close we felt a few hours ago. The way I held his hand in mine. Holding his hand like that . . . touching each of his fingers, tracing the little creases around his knuckles . . . his hand in mine was the best remedy to ease the paranoia of the secrets he kept. I loved his hands—how big they were, how strong. I thought of how they held me, touched me, comforted me. I dozed off again and woke up to Kael standing over me, watching me sleep. He looked like a prince out of a movie, wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweats. Maybe I was groggy, maybe I was losing my mind, but he was so beautiful and I missed him so much. I yanked on his arm, bringing him to me.
“Hey.” He curled his body into mine. I clung to him like he had been away at war.
“How is Mendoza?” I felt unsettled but didn’t want to ruin the moment now that he was back. Silence fell between us. He took a deep breath and I held mine.
“Did you enjoy your nap?” he asked, completely ignoring my question.
I had to make a choice. Press him for an answer about Mendoza and risk him closing off and turning distant or let him decide what parts of him I could access.
I nodded, trying to keep my emotions at bay. I lifted my head up to kiss him and his arms wrapped around me, hugging my body as close to his as it could get.
“I missed you. Too much,” he said against my forehead.
And even though I knew this was too good to be true and the red flags were piling up, I held on to him and decided to take whatever it was he would give me. I should have remembered that not all fairy tales end in happily ever after.