28. Twenty-Eight Lesson

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The best part about Matthews' bedroom was the signs of imperfection. Clothes were haphazardly slung over the back of a chair, the bed was made but the cushions seemed to be thrown in a pile on top rather than carefully arranged, and several of Tilia's imaginative drawings hung on the walls. Someone actually lived in this room. Some part of me had expected the room to look like something out of a catalog: impersonal and too orderly.

Matthews opened a door to a walk in closet and returned with a T-shirt. "Here you go." He threw it at me and went inside the small room again. I pulled off the wool sweater and almost disappeared in the over-sized shirt. It covered the boy shorts, but as much as I wanted to get out of the tiny, constricting shorts, I wasn't going to sleep without them. Tempted as I was, it was too embarrassing to ask for a pair of boxers or pajama pants, so I would have to make do with what I had.

I stood awkwardly in the dim light until Matthews returned, still buttoning his pajama shirt. "It's been awhile since I slept with a shirt," he said while fiddling with the small buttons.

"You don't have to." I almost clasped my hand across my mouth. Where on Earth did those words come from? He had a nice chest, though, from what I glimpsed.

Matthews chuckled. "As much as I'd like to sleep in the nude, I don't think you're ready for that."

He was right, of course.

When I didn't respond, he closed the distance between us and held out his hand. For a second I felt like a virgin bride getting ready for her deflowering, so I rolled my eyes. However, the offered hand was a nice gesture, and definitely what I needed. I placed my hand in his and let him lead me to the bed.

To not exacerbate the virgin bride feeling, I jumped in ahead of him, snuggling into the fluffy pillows. I thought he would get in on the other side of the bed, but instead, he lay down behind me, pulling my back against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I tensed until Matthews's whisper reached my ear. "Don't fight it."

It wasn't a command, and that made all the difference. He was right—again. His comforting presence wrapped me up from inside out, and for the first time in a long while, I felt completely safe. All the crap in my life could wait, at least until tomorrow.

———

I woke up with a start to the sound of Tilia yelling, "Daddyyyy, wake up!" Not a second later, she jumped up on the bed, crashing into my tired body.

This was beyond awkward.

Matthews grunted behind me, pulling me closer into his chest as if he had no intention of getting up.

"Oh, hi Ethan. What are you doing in Daddy's bed?"

"He's sleeping," Matthew's replied, sounding like he was still asleep.

"No, he's not," she said with certainty.

I closed my eyes and pulled the cover above my head. This was not happening.

Tilia giggled and tore the cover back from my face. "Ethan, I'm hungry. So no sleeping."

"Tilia, go to sleep, sweetheart, or ask Evelyn to make you something."

"Evelyn isn't here."

Matthews let go of me and the bed shifted as he sat up. "What do you mean, when did she leave?" he asked his daughter.

"Yesterday, Daddy. She made me watch a movie and then she left. I had to brush my teeth alone, but I did, Daddy. Look." I peeked up and saw her flash her teeth at Matthews.

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