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Chapter thirty-seven

Naomi

The veil between my dream-like state and consciousness slowly lifts as I feel the weight of the mattress dipping behind me.

Lying on my side, I stir, inhaling deeply to rouse myself to wake up and be present enough to hold a conversation.

Robbie curls his body against my back, his arm snaking around my stomach, scooping me closer to him until I’m fully surrounded by his warmth.

“How did it go?” I murmur, forcing my eyes to slowly blink open. I have no idea what time it is, but given the pitch darkness, it has to be late.

My room, and everything in it, is only slightly illuminated by the moon’s glow through my window. The stillness of the night sets a somber ambiance that makes the quiet room seem intimate—almost charged in a way.

The soft movement of his leg against the sheets and the way his chest heaves rhythmically with each breath against my back further stirs my senses, until I’m wide awake, waiting with a bated breath to hear how it went.

“It went okay,” he says softly against the crook of my neck. I try to analyze his tone for any hints of how it went, but there isn’t much to go on.

“Was it hard to see them?” I slide my fingers between each of his knuckles, tucking his arm as tightly around me as possible, as if the closeness might provide an extra comfort.

“Yeah, it was definitely weird,” he admits through another heaving sigh.

I wait for him to give me more, but nothing comes. He stays silent. I imagine he’s still processing it all.

“Were they mean?” I can’t help but ask. My stomach clenches at the thought, desperately hoping they were gentle with his heart.

“Surprisingly, no. They apologized…for everything,” he says with a soft wonder in his voice, as if he can’t quite believe it himself.

“Really?” My heart lurches, a glimmer of hope growing that he might be okay here, that he might actually find some healing.

“Yeah, they took full responsibility. I just…I don’t know.” I pick up on the struggle in his voice.

“What is it?” I squeeze his hand gently.

“I don’t know if I’m capable of forgiving them,” he admits, his voice thick. “I don’t think I know how to.”

The pain in his voice draws me onto my back, needing to feel closer to him. I twist all the way against him until I’m on my side, my face centered at the base of his neck. I tuck my arms into myself, the backs of my hands resting softly against his bare chest, as his arm stays draped around me.

“There’s so much history there,” he continues. “So many years of feeling cast aside during such vulnerable years for me…I…it’s just a hard wall to tear down, you know?”

I nod, contemplating what kind of response he needs from me in this moment, how I can be the best support to him, as he’s been to me for so long now.

“Do you want to know what I think?” I whisper.

He runs his fingertips along my spine, causing a cascading rush of goosebumps to come alive in its wake.

“More than anything,” he mutters against the top of my head, his breath tickling my hair.

“I don’t think you have to rush mending a relationship with them,” I say softly, treading carefully. “It’s okay if you need to do it slowly.”

Even in the dark, I can make out the way his head dips above me in a nod.

“And I think there’s healing in the simple acknowledgment of it,” I say. “In exposing it all. The raw. The ugly. The mistakes. The regrets. On both sides. Laying it all out there and then carrying those with you as you move forward. That counts as something, you know?”

After a few quiet seconds, I keep going. “Healing isn’t linear. It isn’t cut and dry. And knowing what you can handle, going at your own pace, is not only smart but necessary.”

“Yeah,” he agrees gruffly.

“I’m proud of you,” I whisper, untucking one arm to slink over his torso.

He huffs a breath that puffs against my hair. “I feel like we’ve been telling each other that a lot lately.”

“We have.” I smile to myself in the darkness. “Isn’t that great?”

“It is.” The sound of his laugh makes my soul hum as he brings his hand up to run through my hair.

“Well…if you need help deciphering your needs and setting boundaries, I happen to know a guy.”

“Oh yeah?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah. He kind of changed my life.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” he mutters.

“He is a little relentless and kind of bossy sometimes, but I wouldn’t change him for anything.” I smile against the skin of his chest before growing serious. “You’ll get there, Robbie…even if it takes time.”

“I think so too. I’m not ruling out mending our relationship by any means, but I’m good with moving slowly.”

“Sometimes the best things in life take time.” I yawn, feeling the comfort of sleep pulling on my edges.

He huffs. “Kind of like realizing you’re falling for your best friend of ten-ish odd years? That kind of time?” There’s a twinge of mischief in his voice, the change of topic giving him a little spark back.

“Exactly. Although, that seems like an obnoxiously long time to all of a sudden see me as the prize that I am,” I tease.

“More like a rock in my boot I didn’t know was there, affecting my gait and posture without me even realizing it,” he rambles sleepily.

I blink, processing his statement. “I truly can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“Yeah…keeps things fun, doesn’t it?” The playfulness in his tone brings a smile to my lips. I bite my lip, poking him with my finger.

“Ouch,” he chuckles. “No, you’re right. You were worth every second of the wait.”

I press a kiss to the center of his chest as we both fall quiet, savoring the feeling of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“I left a chocolate walnut muffin on the counter for you for the morning,” I tell him, my eyes drifting closed.

He slides his fingers across my back lazily. “I can’t wait. Should I make omelets again?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay.”

“Were they that bad?” He chuckles sleepily.

I bite my lip to contain a grin. “Let’s just say your talent lies in other areas.”

He sighs, accepting defeat. “That doesn’t even hurt my feelings.”

I squeeze him tighter as if in consolation. I couldn’t care less about his lack of culinary abilities. All that matters to me is the fact that he keeps showing up for me. Over and over again, in any way he can.

After a few quiet moments, when I’m just seconds away from falling asleep, his voice softly jolts me awake.

“Do you know what’s actually insane?” he murmurs, fighting sleep of his own. “How much more comfortable this bed is than the couch.”

I chuckle against the warmth of his skin, falling right back into the soft trance of sleep. “Goodnight, Robbie.”

“Goodnight, Naomi.”