Loving Again(79)

                “Want to go upstairs and see where I put your things?” she asked when she’d brought in the last load.

                “Might as well, sure.”

                She showed him where she’d put his clothes and began to explain where things were in the bathroom. Then she caught his reflection in the mirror. He was running his hand over his face, not seeming to register what she was saying. “You can change anything around that you want, Sam. I … ”

                “No, it’s fine. Whatever you did is fine.”

                “What’s going on?” she asked, still looking at him in the mirror.

                “Nothing. I’m fine.”

                She turned around. “If you’re having second thoughts about the arrangement, if you’d rather be at your apartment, I understand. We can unravel all this, make other arrangements. But if we’re going to change things, we should do it before it gets more complicated.”

                He took the few steps he needed to get close enough to put his arms around her. “I’m not having second thoughts. I want to be here. It’s just … ”

                “It’s just … what?” She touched his face and ran her thumb across the bruise on his cheek. “Tell me, please.”

                “I wanted to get out of the damn hospital so bad I didn’t think about what it would be like when I was released. Maybe expecting things to go back to the way they were before is too much to ask right now.”

                “What things?”

                “Like … ” He paused and scanned her face. “Oh, hell, it’s me. I feel … detached, maybe. Nothing seems normal.” He blew out a breath. “I just need a couple good nights’ sleep. I didn’t get much in the hospital.”

                “Do you want to reconsider where you’re sleeping? Maybe one of the guest rooms would be better after all.”

                He rubbed his hand over his face again.

                “Was it noisy staff or bad dreams in the hospital?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

                “Both.”

                She took his hand and played with his fingers, then traced the veins on the back of his hand, not looking at him. “Have I ever told you why I got Chihuly?”

                “Wasn’t it for security?”

                “Not really. I got him because I was having such a hard time in Seattle that I wondered if I’d made a mistake accepting the residency at Pilchuck. I’d begun to have horrible dreams, nightmares really, after Tommy died and they didn’t stop after I moved. Cynthia suggested I get a pet and told me about this breeder who had a new litter of curly coated retrievers.”

                “All with names of people with curly black hair.”

                “Exactly. At first, I let Chihuly sleep with me, to get him used to being without his littermates, I told myself. In truth, I loved having a warm furry ball of puppy next to me in bed. And when I’d wake up crying from a nightmare, he’d lick my face. It was probably because he liked the salt in my tears but it was comforting. A week or so after I got him, the dreams stopped.”

                She looked up just as he smiled.

                “So, you’ll lick my face when I have a bad dream?” he asked.