Every Time I Think of You

  “Thank you so much for having us, Theo. I had a wonderful time.”

  “Thank you for everything you did. You and your son made a difficult day much easier. I know you’re the main reason Brooks came back, and I’m thankful for that, too.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, giving him a heartfelt smile.

  “Bye, Feo,” Elliott said.

  Theo rumpled Elliott’s hair. “Bye, Elliott.”

  “Will you be okay tonight, Dad?” Brooks asked.

  Theo waved him away. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got whiskey, your big TV, and leftovers.”

  “That sounds pretty good,” Brooks said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As Brooks drove us back to my apartment, it was hard not to think of those who were no longer with us. But we’d come together that afternoon, four people who knew what love and loss were, and by the end of the evening I don’t think there was anyone whose heart didn’t feel a little bit lighter.

  CHAPTER 43

  BROOKS

  I was waiting for Daisy on the couch after she put Elliott to bed. I’d already taken off my jacket and checked to make sure the door was locked. She walked into the living room, unzipped her boots, and stepped out of them. Neither of us spoke as she slowly unwound the scarf from her neck.

  There was a lamp on the side table next to the couch. I switched it off and stood up, crossing the room to where she stood. I twisted my fingers in her hair and pulled her closer so that her body was pressed up against mine. Our kiss was slow and unhurried.

  I shut off the remaining lights and took her by the hand. When we entered the bedroom, I said, “Is it okay if I lock the door?”

  “Yes. He’ll call out if he needs me.”

  Daisy was standing next to me, the outline of her body visible in the faint glow of the streetlight that filtered in through the window shades. I grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it slowly over her head, taking a minute to admire the lacy black push-up bra before I eased her pants down over her hips. Her underwear matched the bra.

  “Did you wear this for me?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I was aching for her by then, and taking off the bra I’d just admired only increased my physical discomfort. Pulling her in for another kiss, I fought the urge to speed things up, reminding myself that I was not sixteen and we had all night.

  When the kiss ended, Daisy reached for my wrist. She unbuttoned both cuffs and then turned her attention to the buttons that ran down the front of my shirt. Once it was hanging open, she pushed it off my shoulders and stripped off my T-shirt. The touch of her hands as she ran them down my arms and then rested them flat on my chest made me groan softly.

  “Come here,” I said, pulling her by the hand toward the bed. We lay down on it, Daisy on her back and me partially covering her with my body as I kissed her repeatedly. I pulled back a few inches and lowered my head. “This right here,” I whispered as I placed a kiss in the hollow at the base of her throat, “drives me insane.”

  I lowered my mouth to her nipple and traced it with my tongue. The sound of our breathing and Daisy’s soft moan filled the room. When I began to suck, she cried out and ran her hands through my hair as I paid equal attention to both breasts.

  Daisy repositioned herself so that she was lying on top of me. She looked right into my eyes and then grasped my hands and held them as she began kissing my neck.

  I would agree to anything this woman asked me for while she was kissing my neck.

  Anything.

  Daisy bit, sucked, and licked, and by then the need to be inside her was almost more than I could handle. I rolled her onto her back and hooked my thumbs in the elastic of her underwear, my hands skimming along the curves of her hips as I pulled them off. I was suddenly very happy about that streetlight because I could see her. Every inch of her naked body was on display for my eyes only.

  “So beautiful,” I said.

  My pants felt two sizes too small by then, at least in the zipper area. I got up and stood next to the bed. Daisy moved to the edge of it, facing me, and reached for my belt. The relief when she eased my zipper down was instantaneous. She touched me, but I was way too close for much of that. Instead, I eased her gently onto her back and put my hands on her thighs, opening her legs to me. I touched her, feeling how aroused she was.

  Maybe she was too close, too, because she said, “Do you have a condom? If not, there’s one in the drawer of my nightstand.”

  “Yes,” I said

  “Get it now,” she panted.

  I found my pants on the floor and reached into my wallet for a condom. By then, the need to be inside her had reached epic levels. When the condom was in place, I covered her body with mine and thrust into her hard. I pulled back and entered her again, slower this time, waiting as she lifted her hips and set the rhythm, which I did my best to match even though I was half out of my mind.

  “You feel incredible,” I said.

  She moved faster, legs wrapped around my back, increasing our pace and pulling me into her with an intensity that matched mine. “Oh my God, Brooks,” Daisy said, crying out as she contracted around me.

  I came seconds later, groaning from the sheer relief, breathing as hard as if I’d run a race.

  Afterward, when I held her, she whispered in my ear, telling me over and over how good it had felt.

  My decision to come back had been the right one, and I would never let her go again.

  CHAPTER 44

  DAISY

  Brooks knocked on the door a little before eight on a Monday evening in mid-December. I was still in my scrubs.

  “I hope you’re in the mood for Mexican,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss hello. “Hey, Elliott.”

  “Hi, Bwooks!”

  “Carne asada?” I asked.

  Brooks looked at me and winked, a move that often rendered me speechless. “And fresh guacamole.”

  “I’ll repay you for your kindness later,” I said, adding a wink of my own.

  “Then let’s go to bed early,” he whispered in my ear.

  I’d admitted that I often ate a bowl of cereal for dinner because Elliott ate at Celine’s and I was usually too tired to cook for myself. Brooks had shown up the very next night with a bag full of pad Thai and skewers of chicken satay.

  “You brought dinner?” I asked.

  “Yes. Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m starving. And I love Thai food.”

  He’d followed me into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter as I reached into the cupboard for plates. “You are the best boyfriend ever.”

  Now we’d settled into a routine. On the days I worked, Brooks would arrive shortly after Elliott and I got home, bearing takeout that he’d picked up for us on the way over. I told him I wasn’t picky and that anything he brought was better than cereal. He seemed to enjoy surprising me.

  “Are you ready to eat?” he asked.

  “I’m a little behind schedule because I got out of work late. I’d like to put Elliott to bed and take a shower first. You do not want to know about the bodily fluids I came in contact with today.”

  Brooks smiled and shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

  “Do you mind waiting? Are you hungry?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Is there something I can do to help?”

  Even though I’d been up front with Brooks about the fact that Elliott and I were a package deal, I never wanted him to feel like he had to fill any parenting shoes. Elliott was my responsibility, and I was the one who would take care of him. But if Brooks was having any qualms about dating a single mother, he sure hadn’t shown it. He’d been accommodating and respectful when it came to planning activities that wouldn’t exclude Elliott, and he was patient when Elliott peppered him with questions or drew him endless pictures. If either of us hoped to eat before eight thirty tonight, I’d need to take Brooks up on his offer.

  “You could sit with El
liott and read him a couple of books while I take a shower. But only if you want to,” I quickly added.

  “Sure.”

  Elliott was sitting on the couch, listening to our exchange.

  “Would you like Brooks to read to you while I’m in the shower?”

  “Can he read my Frankwin book?”

  “I’ll read whatever you want,” Brooks said.

  Elliott ran out of the room and returned with a stack of books, several of which slid out of his grasp and fell to the floor.

  “How many books do you have in that pile?” I asked.

  “Four,” he said. More like seven or eight.

  Brooks sat down on the couch next to Elliott. “Go take a shower,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “I won’t be long,” I said.

  Elliott handed Brooks a book with a turtle on the cover. “This one.”

  “You got it.”

  I took a quick shower and put on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt. When I walked into the living room, Brooks was still reading. Not wanting to interrupt them, I sat down on the far end of the couch and listened silently until Brooks turned the last page.

  “All done?” I asked.

  “He knows all the words,” Brooks said. “Every single one of them.”

  “He’s memorized them. They’re his favorites.”

  “That was wild. I could see his lips moving, and I thought he already knew how to read.”

  Elliott threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know how to read. I’m only free years old.”

  Brooks laughed. “You crack me up, you know that?”

  Elliott let out a giant belly laugh.

  “I hate to break up the party, but it’s time for bed,” I said.

  “I am ready for my snack,” Elliott said.

  “That might work with Brooks, but I know how you operate. And you already had a snack.”

  “Okay,” Elliott said, sounding dejected. He started to follow me into the bathroom so I could brush his teeth but then stopped abruptly and threw his arms around Brooks. “Night, Bwooks.”

  Brooks hugged him tight and said, “Good night, buddy.”

  *

  On Saturday morning, Brooks walked to the park with Elliott and me. Theo had been cleaning out the basement earlier in the week and had come across a large plastic tub of Brooks’s old toys. Inside was a tiny baseball glove and ball that Theo thought Elliott would like. They were covered in red and green Velcro, which made it easy for a toddler to catch the ball.

  Elliott had gone nuts.

  The way his face lit up when Brooks handed him the ball and glove almost brought me to tears. Elliott had slept with the ball and glove that night and insisted on bringing it with him to Celine’s. He’d actually relegated his army man to a spot on his nightstand instead of in his pocket, and I took it as a positive sign that he felt safe and secure enough to let it go.

  When we reached the park, we found a grassy area and Brooks patiently threw the ball after first showing Elliott how to catch it. Elliott was concentrating so hard his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth. The Velcro mostly did its job and every time Elliott caught the ball, he yelled, “I did it! I did it!”

  “You did,” Brooks said. “High-five.”

  They smacked their palms together.

  “Throw it again, Bwooks. Pwease.”

  “Get ready,” Brooks said.

  “Watch, Mama,” Elliott yelled.

  “I’m watching. You’re doing awesome!”

  When Elliott was finally ready to take a break, we walked over to the playground. I lifted him into a bucket swing and pushed him, watching the wind blow back his hair and listening to his laughter.

  “Higher,” he said. “Higher.”

  “I was thinking I could make dinner tomorrow and we could take it over to your dad’s,” I said, giving Elliott another push. I insisted on cooking for Brooks every weekend since he took care of dinner during the week. Brooks said he and his dad often ordered pizza or went out to grab a bite, so I figured Theo might enjoy a home-cooked meal.

  “Honestly, he’d probably love that,” Brooks said.

  “Okay. Let’s plan on it then. What does he like?”

  “He’ll eat anything you make, but he’s kind of a meat-and-potatoes guy.”

  “I’ll make him a roast with all the trimmings.”

  “He already likes you, you know,” Brooks teased. “All I hear is ‘Daisy this’ and ‘Daisy that.’”

  “I like him, too,” I said.

  After the swings, we moved to the sandbox. I’d brought Elliott’s sand toys and he busied himself, digging with a small shovel and transferring the sand to his blue bucket. Brooks and I sat on top of the picnic table in our usual spot, watching him play.

  “Sitting on this table together always reminds me of the day you came to say good-bye,” I said.

  “Same here,” Brooks said. “I think about it every time we watch Elliott dig in the sand. You probably didn’t like me very much that day.”

  “I still liked you. That was the problem. But I’m actually glad you left.”

  “Why?” Brooks sounded incredulous.

  “Because sometimes the only way to find out how much you want something is to walk away from it.”

  Brooks put his arm around me. “Not just a pretty face, are you?”

  I laughed.

  Elliott walked over to the picnic table. “I’m done.”

  “Had enough?” I asked. “Come on. Let’s gather up your toys.” I hopped off the picnic table and began walking toward the sandbox.

  Elliott hung back, so I turned around to see what was keeping him.

  “I would wike to go to Chuck E. Cheese’s now,” Elliott said to Brooks.

  “Chuck E. Cheese’s? What is that, like a restaurant?” Brooks asked.

  “They have pizza there.”

  Brooks crouched down so that he was eye level with Elliott. “Are you hungry, buddy?”

  Elliott nodded solemnly. “I’m very hungry and firsty.”

  “Well, okay. We can go to Chuck E. Cheese’s.”

  “Do you pwomise?”

  “Sure.”

  If he hadn’t been so busy being manipulated by a three-year-old, Brooks might have seen me walk up behind Elliott. I was making sawing motions across my neck in the universal sign for Stop talking right now!

  “You know the rule about Chuck E. Cheese’s, Elliott,” I said. “That’s a special treat. And we were just there in August for your birthday.”

  “But he’s hungry,” Brooks said.

  “So hungry,” Elliott echoed.

  Oh, give me a break. Brooks had no clue how hard he was being played.

  Amateur.

  “He’s not hungry because he finished his lunch”—I consulted my watch—“a mere sixty-three minutes ago. He will eat exactly one tiny corner of one piece of pizza, if we’re lucky. And he’ll miss his nap.”

  “But Bwooks made a pwomise,” Elliott said.

  “Why don’t you go pick up your sand toys while I talk to Brooks?”

  “Uh-oh. I screwed myself with the promise thing, didn’t I?” Brooks said as soon as Elliott was out of earshot.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. He took total advantage of you.”

  “We have to take him there, otherwise he won’t trust me. I’ll buy him some pizza and something to drink.”

  “Okay. But no one goes to Chuck E. Cheese’s for the food.”

  “What do they go there for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  *

  Twenty-five minutes later, we walked through the front door of Chuck E. Cheese’s.

  “I need your hands,” the attendant said.

  Brooks held out his hand. “What is this?” he asked me.

  I held out my own hand, and Elliott’s. “It’s so we don’t steal someone else’s child. We can only leave with the one we brought.”

  “I don’t know if that’s comforting or alarming,?
?? he said.

  The look on Brooks’s face as I led him into the sheer bedlam that is Chuck E. Cheese’s was priceless. For a second I thought about snapping a picture of his expression with my phone so we could laugh about it later.

  “Wow,” he said. “And I don’t mean ‘wow, cool.’ I mean ‘wow, this is insane.’”

  “Starting to see the big picture now?”

  “It’s getting clearer.” Brooks wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

  “Diapers and feet.”

  Brooks now appeared to be breathing through his mouth. “Yes,” he said solemnly. “That’s it exactly.”

  “You’ll get used to it. By the time we leave, you won’t even notice it.”

  The plastic tubes at Chuck E. Cheese’s always reminded me of something you’d find in a hamster cage, only these tubes were large enough to hold children.

  Elliott was pulling on my hand, dragging me toward them. “I wanna go in the tubes.”

  “Take off your shoes first,” I said, stopping him in front of the shoe cubbies.

  He shoved his tennis shoes into the nearest empty slot and took off. “Watch me!”

  “We will.”

  Brooks and I managed to find a table that was close enough for us to keep an eye on Elliott. When the waitress came around, I ordered a small pepperoni pizza and a glass of lemonade.

  “Is the pizza any good?” Brooks asked.

  “It’s not horrible. Elliott seems to like it. I’ll ask for a box and he can eat it for dinner. It’s doubtful he’ll stop long enough to eat much while we’re here.”

  We watched Elliott climb up into the tubes and go down the slide, repeating the process over and over until I convinced him to take a break. He was sweating and wheezing a bit.

  “You okay? Do you need your inhaler?”

  “I’m okay.” He took a big drink of his lemonade. “Can we go to the ball pit now?”

  I cringed. I hated the ball pit, but Elliott loved it.

  Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.