Page 55 of Love Always

Mateus is right outside, leaning against the doors, waiting for me. He takes my elbow and guides me to the Lexus, opens the door. I feel like I might break. There’s too much going on, too many people to talk to. I can be “on” at The Inn with guests or “on” at a party, but to recharge, I need to be alone. This is too much. When I close my eyes, I see Colleen’s face and hear the detective’s voice. If I try to shift my thoughts, I imagine Kevin leering at me, sitting down with Cory at a lunch table.

What I should be focusing on are the videos of my son acting out. That’s where my attention should be. But just knowing Kevin was with him, close to him, makes me want to throw up.

“Are you okay?” says Mateus after we’ve pulled out on to the highway. “What happened in there?”

I look at him and he catches my gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again. “Are they going to kick him out of school?”

Shaking my head, I try to explain without giving too much away. “No, they were great actually. They said he clearly needs an aide and his teacher is open to me working with her on strategizing.”

Suddenly he turns into the Hannaford’s parking lot, does a “U,” pulling into a slot way in the back and shifts the car to park. “So, what’s wrong?” he takes my hands in his. They are large, warm, and kind. “Trust me. I can keep a secret.”

There is something so simple in his declaration that a hard stitch in my heart just slips.

“Kevin Barr is trying to sue for paternity and take Cory away. He’s contacted the school.”

Mateus never lets my hands slip from his. His eyes never darken, he never looks away, he never flinches. He just listens. It takes me a moment to realize silent tears are sliding down my face. But I’m not crying.

Not crying. It’s just a reaction to everything going on.

He takes both my hands in one of his so he can brush those tears away with the other.

He reaches in his pocket for a second and then holds my hands again. It’s such a simple gesture. So tender.

“Go on.”

I tell him everything. How Kevin approached me last week about Cory, how he had threatened to file a paternity case, how he claimed he was the father, how his dad owns Mid-Coast Maine.

“And this is the same judge who hit your parents’ car?”

I nod. In seconds Mateus is unbuckled, and pulls me to him, holding me tightly as if we are both going down on a ship. It takes my breath away—not so much his strength, but how intense he is. My body shudders once, either releasing tension or adjusting to his sudden embrace, but it doesn’t matter. His body is warm and strong, and I can hear his heart in his chest as I lay my forehead in the crook of his neck. He holds the back of my neck and pulls me to him even closer and then his lips find mine and I close my eyes.

This time I see only shadow and darkness and am overwhelmed by his mouth on mine, the scrabble of his beard against my face, how my crotch suddenly fills with wet heat. Moaning into his mouth I part my lips and his tongue enters me. One of his hands cups the base of my neck, the other lies along my throat—my heart hammers hard and fast.

I pull away. “Thank you,” I say almost bashful.

“Don’t let that little fucker get into your head.”

“That’s what I’m thanking you for,” I say and take his head in my hands and kiss him deeply again.

This time when we break apart, he lets go of me, but his hand stays on my chest. The weight of his warm hand leaves me even wetter. He strokes my hair with the other. I can feel my heart flutter beneath his wide palm.

“Laurel, I don’t know what this is. I’ve never felt like this with someone, and I don’t want to freak you out. You’ve got plenty to deal with right now, but I’ll say this as many times as you need to hear it. You don’t have to go through any of this alone. Whatever I can do, I’ll do.”

“I know.”

“And whatever advice I offer, I offer because I care for you—it might be wrong or what you don’t want to hear, but it will always be the truth.”

“I know.”

He stares at me with dark, fathomless eyes. “I know you know it—I want you to feel it.”

΅

In five minutes, we’re back on the road, heading south to the peninsula. There’s a tissue in my hand, though I refuse to let more tears fall. Mateus is driving very carefully. I want to remind him I pushed a human being out of my body. But as I watch him turning the car carefully, slowing down at the curves, favoring whatever side of the road will make the ride straighter, I feel a wave of gratitude, complete and uncomplicated.

“What time is Cory home again?”