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I nodded, running my hand over the back of Emily’s hair. “Did you have fun with Knox?” I asked.
She moved her head against my cheek. “Did you see the whoopee cushion in your bed?”
I couldn’t help but smile to myself. “I sure did.”
She giggled maniacally as a sleepy little girl could, and I nuzzled my nose over hers. “Silly girl.”
Knox came into the room, Jackson curled against his chest, wrapped in a small blanket. He walked ahead of us, opening the door for Emily and me. On the walk to my place, not a word passed between us as sleeping children rested on our shoulders.
We each went into the kids’ bedroom, resting them in their beds. Emily shifted under her covers and said, “Knox, will you sing me a bedtime song?”
I glanced toward Knox, our eyes meeting, holding.
He cleared his throat. “I’d love to, if it’s okay with your mom.”
I nodded, going to my daughter and kissing her forehead. I didn’t know if my heart could take watching. So once she was curled under her blanket, surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals, I stepped outside of the bedroom, standing in the hallway.
Knox’s voice was a hum as he asked, “What song do you like?”
“What’s your favorite?” she asked.
He was quiet for a long moment, and I had to wonder what was going through his mind as he waited to answer. But then he said, “My mama used to sing me this song when I was your age. Is it okay if I sing it to you?”
“Yes, please,” she said with a happy sigh.
I leaned against the wall in the hallway, my eyes already hot with tears. And then he began singing the first lines of an old country song.
From this valley they say you are going, I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile. For they say you are taking the sunshine, that brightens our pathways awhile.
Come and sit by my side if you love me. Do not hasten to bid me adieu, but remember the Red River Valley, and the cowboy who loved you so true.
A tear rolleddown my cheek as his beautiful voice sang the rest of the song from memory. I imagined little Knox, lying with his mom brushing back his hair, singing this song, not yet knowing she was saying goodbye.
And I listened to it now, knowing what I had to do.
He sang softer toward the end, emotion clear in the tune, and I quietly sniffed, wiping the fresh track of tears from my face.
“Goodnight, sweet girl,” Knox said to my daughter. And when she didn’t reply, I knew she was sleeping.
He stepped out of the room, and we stood in the hallway. I could sense my bedroom just feet away. Feel the tug of my heart.
I wanted to pull him there. To finish the heated kiss we hadn’t yet indulged in, knowing exactly where it would lead. I wanted to believe in love and happily ever afters and that the first man I fell for after the divorce could be the one to never break my heart again.
In the shadows, I saw his throat move with a swallow. His tattoos swirled in dark ink on his arms. And then I looked up into his eyes, pale blue, almost gray in the darkness. It took all the strength I had to say two simple words. “Goodnight, Knox.”
He stood still, searching my eyes and finding my answer to his earlier question. His features cleared, removing every hint of emotion. And then he lowered his lips, pressing them against my forehead.
A goodbye kiss.
I held on to his cotton shirt, letting myself feel every moment of warmth, of longing, of passion this man gave me in a simple forehead kiss. And when he pulled back, I released him.
I let him go, knowing he was never meant to be mine.
“Goodnight, Larkin,” he uttered. And then he turned, leaving through the front door.
I left it unlocked, some traitorous, selfish part of me hoping, maybe, he would come back.
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