Frayed
Page 118
Ben’s grin is wider than I have ever seen. “Finn is perfect.” He smiles down, resting his hand over mine. And as my eyes shift from the baby to Ben and back to the baby, I think this has to be the single-most beautiful feeling in the world. It’s a feeling that reaches all the way into my soul and takes my breath away. And it’s a feeling I know will never leave me.
Hours later when I awake, I know Ben is nearby because I can hear the sound of his breathing, but this time my senses are heightened. As my eyes flutter open his soft lips are on mine, and although he is barely skimming them, I can feel the heat that sears me every time he touches me. My eyes lift to see Finn in Ben’s arms. In looking at them together, observing the bliss I see on Ben’s face, I know that what we have isn’t perfect, but it is our own version of perfect. And even though the edges of our relationship may be frayed much like the hem of his shirts, the framework is solid and in the end . . . that’s all that really matters.
Hours later when I awake, I know Ben is nearby because I can hear the sound of his breathing, but this time my senses are heightened. As my eyes flutter open his soft lips are on mine, and although he is barely skimming them, I can feel the heat that sears me every time he touches me. My eyes lift to see Finn in Ben’s arms. In looking at them together, observing the bliss I see on Ben’s face, I know that what we have isn’t perfect, but it is our own version of perfect. And even though the edges of our relationship may be frayed much like the hem of his shirts, the framework is solid and in the end . . . that’s all that really matters.
