Secret Lucidity(54)

“I’m done,” he forfeits, dropping his half-eaten S’more onto the plate that’s sitting between us and taking a draw from his beer.

“Not me. I could eat these things all day.” I shove another burnt masterpiece in my mouth before David takes my hand and sucks melted marshmallow off my thumb. “I thought you were done?”

He takes the skewer out of my hand, wraps his arms around me, and slides me off the hearth and onto the floor. A giggle falls from my sticky sweet lips as he crawls over me. With his hands braced on either side of me, I hang on to my smile as I stare into bright blue eyes. I run my fingers along day old stubble and watch as a lock of hair falls over his forehead.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and I pull him down to kiss me, tasting the sugar on his lips.

I circle my arms around his neck, savoring the stain of his flavor on my tongue. With the fire crackling next to us, my body soaks up the heat from all around. Hand on flesh, he slips under my sweater and over my bra.

He exhales, his kisses falling down my cheek to my neck, and I bow into him.

The sound of the doorbell cleaves our bodies apart, and we both startle, sitting up in a panic. His finger presses against my lips before he takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. His eyes mirror the alarm in mine as we lock on to each other.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling me into his bedroom. “Stay in here and don’t come out.”

I nod as I sit on the edge of his bed. He closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with horrified fear that somehow we’ve been found out. But fear turns into confusion when I hear a woman’s muffled voice. Quietly, I walk over to the bedroom door, and when I do, the voice clears.

“What are you doing here?” David questions.

“You won’t answer my calls.”

Heels click across the wooden floors.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You don’t mean that,” she says. “We miss you. It’s been almost nine years since you’ve seen anyone. Please come over to the house. Come over and spend Christmas with us.”

“Mom . . .” His tone comes across as defeated, but for what, I have no clue.

I lean my back against the wall and continue to eavesdrop.

“You’ve never even met the kids.”

“Don’t,” he warns harshly, and my stomach flips in confusion.

“You’re their uncle. They shouldn’t be punished over a fight between you and your brother,” she tells him. “Nine years, David—”

“A fight? Is that what you all call it?”

“Don’t you think it’s time to move past this?”

“I have moved past this,” he affirms. “Those nine years you’ve been hanging on to are the same nine years I spent letting go.”

“Please . . . we’re your family.” Her words falter with sadness. “You’re my son. I love you.”

“Where was that love back then? Because if memory serves me correctly, everyone just kept their mouths shut. You all just accepted them while my world went to shit in front of my eyes . . . literally, Mom. Do you have any clue what that was like for me?”

“What were we supposed to do? They were in love, and you ran off. We didn’t hear from you for years.”

“I don’t want to rehash this.”

“How can we rehash it when we haven’t even had the chance to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing left to talk about. He took my future, and he has the wife and the kids that were supposed to be mine. It’s done, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to waltz in there and pretend what they did was okay. That I forgive them.”

Heels move along the floor again, and then come to a stop. No one says anything as I keep silent, and then, after a long pause, “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

No response from David.

“Is someone here?”

My heart slams against my ribs. She must see the food setup at the fireplace. I cup my hand over my mouth as I step over against the corner of the wall and the door.

“Like I told you. I’ve let it go and moved on,” he tells her.

“If there’s someone in your life, I’d like to—”

“I refuse to drag her into this.”

Oh my God, David. Stop talking!

“Look,” he says. “You’re my mom, and I love you. But we’ve lost a lot of time, and for me to walk back in, as if that time didn’t change us, isn’t something I think I can do right now.”

“But it’s Christmas. And you’re finally home.”

“It may be home for you, Mom. But it’s not for me.”

Their talking subsides to make room for what I can only imagine is David consoling the heartache of his mom. As I stand frozen, tucked behind the door, I try to make sense out of the conversation they just had, but there are too many pieces missing. I hang on to my breath when I finally hear footsteps, and when they say their goodbyes and the door closes, I sigh in relief and return to the bed.

I wait for David to come get me, but he doesn’t. I go back and forth over whether I should go to him or give him time alone to deal with whatever it was they were talking about.

I crawl to the center of the bed, and after a handful of minutes pass, the door finally opens.