Page 85 of Five Days in July
27
MATT
Iresist the urge to draw her even closer, content with the simple pleasure of holding her in my arms. I feel like a gangly teenager at his first school dance, racked with nerves because I don’t want to step on her foot or let her feel how aroused I am.
The slow songs end, and the music picks back up. Lenore lifts her head from my chest. “You want to get out of here?”
Not moving, I hold her close and try to decide if she’s implying what I think she is. When I really look at her, I can tell she’s tired. We’ve both had an active day and a long, stressful week.
“Yeah, let’s get going.”
We pull apart, and I turn to see if I can spot Steve in the crowd to say goodbye. He’s in the front by the DJ in what looks to be a fairly intense conversation with Andrea. She’s still dressed in her chef’s whites and doesn’t look like she wants any of the attention she’s getting.
I don’t know her well and have actually only met her once before, but from the way they’re talking, it doesn’t seem like a good time to interrupt. I pull out my phone and send Steve a quick message. I know he gets it because I see him thumb off the notification without even looking to see who it’s from.
I keep an arm wrapped around Lenore and lead her toward the door. No one tries to stop us or start a conversation apart from one of the wait staff positioned by the overflowing donation area, who gives a cursory wave and, “Thank you for coming!”
I nod toward them in acknowledgment and hold the door open for Lenore. She steps out onto the street, and I follow behind. The volume of the music and conversation inside is reduced now that we’re outside.
I lead her back to the truck and help her up. After the noise of the party, we both enjoy the peaceful silence of the night. Dusk is just starting to fall as we pull away from the curb. Since it’s a Sunday, the traffic isn’t too bad, and we make good time getting back to the cabin. When I pull up, I see she left the kitchen lights on. It looks cozy and welcoming.
I shut off the truck and turn toward her, not wanting her to tell me to go.
She must be feeling something similar because she asks, “Will you stay? At least for a little while.” She wrings her hands together in her lap, a tell that I’ve quickly picked up on that she’s nervous.
“I’d like that.”
“Actually, what I really want to ask is, will you stay the night?” Her spine straightens, and her voice is strong. “To sleep, I mean.”
She twists her hands again but keeps looking at me, waiting for my answer.
“I’d like that even more.”
She meets my smile with her own before reaching for the door, but I lay a hand on her arm to stop her. “Let me.”
I hop down and circle to her side, opening the door and giving her a hand so she doesn’t twist an ankle climbing down in her heels. Keeping her close. Wanting to clear the air, I wait for her to look up and meet my eyes before asking, “Are you sure?”
I hate how indecisive it sounds, but I don’t want her to feel pressured. I want any progress we make to be her decision and hers alone, not because I’m pushing her or she feels like she has to.
“Matt.” Her hands are resting on my shoulders. “You make me forget to be afraid.” She starts to pull me toward the house.
Stunned silly, I almost trip over my own feet.
When we get inside, we find Norm curled up on the couch, fast asleep. I kick off my shoes and kneel to help Nore out of hers. Snagging them with one finger, she carries them upstairs, towing me along in her alluring wake.
“You want the bathroom first or. . .?” Her words trail off, and I see just how tired she is. Her eyes are drooping, and if she still had her shoes on, I’m willing to bet she’d be swaying on her feet. I know she’s not drunk; she only had one glass of champagne a few hours ago. If she was drunk, I would have made sure she made it inside safely and driven back home.
“Go ahead.” I nod to the bathroom. “You look like you’re about ready to nod off.”
She smiles and goes into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. I hear the toilet flush and water running and the rustling around of her nighttime routine.
“Can you throw me the pajamas on the chair?” she calls out.
I see a pair of sleep shorts and a large T-shirt thrown over the chair. I grab them and knock lightly on the bathroom door before pushing it open enough to set them on the counter. Lenore has a toothbrush in her mouth while attempting to brush her hair.
“Can I help?” She looks confused, and I motion toward the hairbrush.
She takes the toothbrush out of her mouth to ask, “You want to brush my hair?”