Dair (The Wild Side #3)(32)

“You-you’re leaving him with me?”

“What, you don’t want him?  I’m happy to take him back with me.”

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean that.  I want him.  I was just startled.”

Heath was ignoring me by then, his eyes on Cameron, his whole face transformed to give my son a loving smile.

“Remember what I told you, sport?”

“Grown-ups always come back,” Cameron said instantly, like he’d been taught to memorize it.

“That’s right.  We do.  So I’ll be back, and your mommy will be back.  And this time, you’ll all get to live together as a family.  Won’t that be awesome?”

“Awesome!” Cameron responded instantly.

After one last kiss on the top of Cameron’s head, Heath left.

I carried my child the entire way home.  I was sure he could have walked some of it, but I didn’t care.  I wasn’t letting him go.

We were nearly to the house when my son said, his little voice faulting, “Mommy misses you—daddy—she misses you so much!”

I blinked rapidly, but that didn’t stop the tears from filling my eyes.  “I miss her too, son. So much.”

“I misses you, too,” he added, his cute little bottom lip jutting out.

That gutted me like nothing else.  “I missed you, too.  Like you wouldn’t believe.  But we’ll never be apart again.  You’re staying with me for good.”

“You pwomise?”

“I promise.”

I headed straight to Target with the list and Cameron in tow.  It was an ordeal, but eventually I found everything I needed, and then spent two hours in the toy department.

Going from living by myself to having a toddler in the house was an adjustment, but a welcome one.  He was good company.

I showed him the flowers I’d had planted, years ago, in every possible piece of dirt on the property.  “Do you know your mommy’s first name?” I asked him.

“Mommy?” he guessed.

I smiled and patted his head.  “That’s her name to you, but her name to me is Iris.  Do you know what all these flowers are called?”

He looked around.  They were everywhere.  He shook his head.

“Iris.”

His cute little brow wrinkled.  “Are you saying my mommy’s a fwower?”

“No, but she’s named after a flower, and these are her favorites.  You think she’ll be happy when she sees how many we have at our house?”

With wide eyes, he nodded.

About three weeks after Cameron arrived, I started watching for her.  I couldn’t help myself.  The idea that she could show up at literally any moment consumed me.

I put in a daily order for bouquets of Iris, vase after vase, until they filled every spare table space in the house.

Cameron eagerly helped me find just the right spaces for them all, nearly as anxious to see his mother again as I was.

Of course she came in the night.  Always the element of surprise with my Iris.

Cameron slept a few doors down.  I’d been taking time off writing to play catchup with him, and we’d been working on transforming that room for him.  So far, I’d filled it with kids furniture, had it painted green, and plastered the walls with an assortment of peel-able stickers of all of his favorite characters, from Thomas to The Cookie Monster.

I’d read him eight stories before he finally conked out.  I had high hopes that I had a future author on my hands.  It always started with the devouring of books.

I was already aware enough of his sleep patterns to know that he’d be out until morning, and so when my bedroom door opened slowly in the middle of the night, I didn’t suspect for a second that it was Cameron.

The sound of the door being decisively closed and locked, then the quiet shuffle of clothing being discarded was further proof.

My heart started pounding.  I didn’t know, but I hoped with all my heart that it was her.

In our time apart, I’d managed to come to terms with a great many things.  Missing a person desperately will do that.

I swallowed hard, and called out, “Iris?”

I heard her gasp, and from the gasp, I knew.

She answered by climbing into bed with me.

I wrapped my arms around her, and just held her for a very long time, no words needed.

Of course that didn’t last forever.  I was wide awake, with a na**d body pressed to me that I’d been longing for for years.

I began to touch her, remembering each lush curve with my reverent hands.

She trembled under my touch, and it quickly turned from reverent to carnal, hungry.

I was trying to go slow, but she snapped first, moving to straddle me.  She took me inside of her, and it was every bit the heaven I remembered.

We took each other in the dark, reacquainting ourselves by feel alone.

I woke in the morning reaching for her.

Warm sunlight infiltrated through the partially drawn shades, and my fingers met warm, na**d flesh.

I was a second away from mounting her when I heard the clanking sound of the handle on my locked door being twisted back and forth, then some little fists beating on the door.

Beloved green eyes met mine, still blinking away sleep.