Page 41 of Beautiful Trauma

“About time,” Sergio hissed.

“Right? Could I have been any more obtuse?” I laughed.

“Is this where the spicy bits come in?” Hope gleamed in his eyes.

“We’re just about there.”

“Thank God.”

Twenty-Four

Then:

As predicted by Eli, I did indeed wake up the next morning with a raging hangover. My head pounded, my mouth felt like I had left it out in the sun on a hot day, and my body didn’t want to move.

Of course, Eli was already up and about. I could hear him clanging around in the kitchen, chatting away with Wyatt. Every time Wyatt would raise his voice in excitement, Eli would remind him, “Ssh, Mama is sleeping, buddy.”

Eli has always treated Wyatt as his own, and we weren’t even a couple. Just another reason to love him, but another thing that made me feel like an asshole. Eli already held a grudge against my father for the way he erased me from his existence when I got pregnant. I was just glad he hadn’t been there when Mason and I told our fathers about what happened.

I dragged myself out of the bed, careful not to stand up too quickly. I reached for my phone, but instead of picking it up, it fell to the floor. Nope, I thought. It lives there now. Not bending over.

My door creeped open. “Hey, you’re up. Let me get you some ibuprofen and a drink.” Eli smiled at me from behind the counter.

I nodded and walked across the hall to use the bathroom.

When I came out, Eli had set a colored drink and a bottle of pain reliever on the counter next to two slices of peanut butter toast. I kissed him on the cheek and ruffled Wyatt’s hair. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha got there?” I sat on the stool next to his highchair and gave the glass of colored water a dubious look.

“It’s Pedialyte. We didn’t have anything else with electrolytes,” Eli explained.

Gross, but necessary. I chugged the liquid, and he rewarded me with a cup of coffee.

Wyatt squished some banana chunks between his fingers, causing my stomach to turn. “Wy, we don’t play with food. Are you done?”

“No!” He rushed the fistful of mashed banana to his mouth.

I looked away, not quite ready to be responsible for myself, let alone another human. I let Wyatt paint the highchair and himself with his banana while I ate the toast in front of me and let the ibuprofen and electrolytes do their thing.

Eli went to his room to get ready for work, so when Wyatt got antsy, it was time to get my shit together. I cleaned the mashed fruit off my child as best I could without a full bath—that would come later—and tossed the tray into the sink.

The second his chubby little feet hit the floor, Wyatt took off in search of his favorite dinosaur toys. Eli emerged from his room, having to swerve to avoid running over Wyatt, as he kissed my cheek and said goodbye. I knew Eli was a good-looking man. The line of women throwing themselves at him since high school was evidence of that, but historically, I was not one of those women.

I preferred to keep the very best parts of him as my best friend. His compassion. His loyalty. The way he’d fought so hard to keep himself sober. He was honest, generous, and frankly, outside of Wyatt, I didn’t think there was a human on this planet who loved me more than Elijah Jenkins did.

I’d been terrified to screw that up. There was a time when the two of us together were toxic as hell, but I thought we were past that part of our relationship. Maybe we could have more.

“E,” I called to him as he opened the door.

He turned back to me, waiting to see what I needed. I made my way to where he stood in the doorway. My heart pounded in my chest, and for a split second, I thought about saying ‘never mind’ and walking away, but I didn’t. Instead, I wrapped a hand around his neck and brought his mouth to mine in a tentative kiss. We had kissed on the mouth one time, and it didn’t end well.

The kiss was brief. I pulled back a bit to gauge his response before allowing it to go any further. He looked confused and asked, “What are you doing?”

Jumping.

He looked back down at my lips, and I took it as the sign to keep going. I leaned back in and pressed my lips to his again. This time, he kissed me back, pulling me into his arms. His tongue traced my lips, and I let it slip into my mouth. I heard a crash coming from the other room and we pulled apart, listening for crying. Wyatt chattered on, clearly fine.

Eli ran his thumb over my bottom lip, a smile on his face. “We’ll talk about this when I get home.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips and left the house.

My heartrate still soared, and my hands had gone clammy. I stood in front of the door long after Eli pulled out of the driveway, just thinking about what might happen next. What did ‘we’ll talk about this' mean? Had I gotten this wrong? No. He kissed me back. Anxiety flooded my senses, causing my hands to shake and my breathing to quicken. What if I’d just fucked this up? What if he didn’t come back?