Page 29 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

I woke up in the morning to Gabe’s arm still around my waist and his bare chest nestled against my back. It was like I was safe and cozy in a little Gabe cocoon.

I found myself wondering what it would have been like if I’d married Gabe instead of Troy. My kids would have an involved dad, and I would have had an attentive partner—how wonderful would that be?

While I had no doubt I wouldn’t be divorced had that happened, I wouldn’t have had Jake either, and I wouldn’t trade that little guy for anything. The shitty marriage to Troy had been worth it because I’d gotten my son out of it.

Thoughts of Jake filled my mind, and I realized that as much as I’d enjoyed living the life of a single bachelorette this weekend, I missed my munchkin. Sticky fingers, potty training battles, and all.

I was sad my time with Gabe was coming to an end, but it was time to get back to the real world and all the responsibilities that came with that.

When I tried to move Gabe’s hand and slip out of bed, he tightened his embrace while murmuring in my ear, “Let me hold you just a little while longer.”

I mean, who was I to argue?

Rolling over, I burrowed my face into his chest and took a deep breath, filling my olfactory senses with his masculine scent.

I hoped two days in my bed would be enough time for it to linger.

If I couldn’t have him, at least I could hug a pillow at night that smelled like him.

Maybe I’d ask him what cologne he used and spritz the pillowcase when it started to wear off.

How lame was that?

And… this is why I’m probably going to be alone for the rest of my life.

I wiggled closer to him and let out a sigh of contentment when he hugged me tight. Listening to his heartbeat, I couldn’t help but think, I’m not alone now.

And in the moment, that was enough.

****

Gabe

Waking up with Gretchen in my arms was the perfect way to start my day.

I could get used to this.

Then my realistic side lambasted my romantic one.

Not gonna happen, sucker. Once you get out of this bed, you’re never coming back.

Which was probably why I didn’t let her go when she tried to get up.

“Let me hold you just a little while longer.”

To my relief, she turned over and melted into me.

Maybe we can stay in bed all day.

“What time are you meeting Derrick?”

The sound of sad trombones played in my head.

So much for that idea.

“Nine-thirty.”

“You probably better get going, then. ”

“Why? What time is—” I glanced at my watch and exclaimed, “Oh shit!” as I sat up with a start. “I never sleep this late!”

“Well,” she giggled. “We were up pretty late. Again . Two late nights in a row takes its toll.”

My left knee creaked when I stood up and glanced around for my clothes.

“Especially on an old man like me.”

She gave me a soft smile. “You’re not that old. You’re only eight years older than I am.”

For what we each wanted in our lives, those eight years might as well have been decades. In seven years, both my kids would be adults, while if she got pregnant tomorrow, her child might be starting kindergarten or first grade.

“Things look a lot different when you’re pushing forty than when you just turned thirty. You’ll see.”

She sat up in bed with the covers tucked under her armpits while she watched me yank my underwear and jeans on.

“My goodness, you gonna tell me about your tour in ’Nam, too, Gramps? Yell at the kids to get off your lawn? Or do you not care who walks on the grass at the retirement home?””

“Har har. You’re hilarious.”

After I buttoned my jeans, I couldn’t help but pause and take in the sight of her makeup-free face and mussed hair from a combination of sleep and being properly fucked.

I didn’t want this to be the end.