Lourdes

Hangovers aren’t anything I’ve experienced often, maybe once or twice, and as far as this one goes, I’m considering it mild. I’m sure Liam has a lot to do with that. He stopped me from drinking any more and made me drink water, nap, drink more water and take ibuprofen. I wonder if he’s that attentive with everyone or just me. I can’t imagine Amira letting anyone take care of her, so he probably doesn’t get much of a chance to do nice things for her.

Lying here in bed, listening to the cars wiz by outside and the birds chirping, I have a million thoughts swirling around in my brain: Liam’s offer to pay for school and buy us a house, having his baby for him and Amira, the tender way he helped me get ready for bed, and the fact that he never stepped over the line.

I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, and it hurts. Part of me wishes more than anything that he would have stepped over the line. I’ve never wanted a man more. I could be set for life if I accepted his offer—no student loans, no mortgage, just school, studying and time with Toby.

I can’t believe Amira wants him to do artificial insemination. The baby wouldn’t be hers biologically at all. It would be Liam’s and mine. Is that what he’s counting on? That Amira will use the baby as leverage with her father and abandon it so we can live happily ever after? I hardly know this man. I am fiercely attracted to him, but I can’t start planning a future with him based on two encounters. The thought is outlandish.

His words from last night roll through my mind like a song on repeat. Sooner or later, you will be mine. He seems so sure, so confident, like he knows I’ll accept his offer and we will live happily ever after. Wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah, life doesn’t work that way. Nobody, especially me, gets a perfect happily ever after. I need to talk to Rachel, I need my baby, and I need to get up.

I sit up in bed and try to catch my breath, and I’m dizzy. Even after the water, I must be dehydrated. Note to self: don’t drink more than one martini again. Ever. When I’m able to take a regular breath, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The package of baby wipes is still on the counter where Liam left them last night. I love his tender yet take-charge attitude. He makes me feel cared for and safe all at once. I smile and put the wipes back under the sink and take a shower. When I’m finished, I already feel like I need a nap, but I push through and drive to my sister’s house to get Toby.

When I walk through the door, my knees are attacked by a small yet mighty green hulk. I bend down to look him over, head to toe.

“Where’s Toby? You’re the hulk, aren’t you?” I ask.

“I hulk grrrrrrr!” Toby growls with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Rachel enters the room with Ivy, who is dressed up in a Snow White costume with a black wig.

“Did I miss something? I thought Halloween wasn’t for a few months.”

“They wanted to dress up,” Rachel says, shrugging her shoulders. “You sorta look like hell. What happened last night?”

I scoop up my little green monster man—covering my arms in green body paint—and walk past Rachel into the kitchen. I take a seat at the table and kiss Toby’s face all over until he squirms away and runs into the back yard with Ivy. Rachel sits across from me expectantly, with her elbows on the table and her hands crossed in front of her.

“He offered to pay for college—all of it. And he wants to buy Toby and me a house near Berkeley. He’s married to a witch. And I think I’m falling in love with him.”

I figure I may as well throw it all out there and let her start digesting the information. She falls back against the high-back kitchen chair, and a huff of air comes from her open mouth when she hits it. One of her daycare kids runs in from the back yard, and she tracks him as he hurries across the room toward the bathroom, chanting.

“Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee.”

I’m watching her watch him, and it’s almost comical . . . almost. When the bathroom door slams, she returns her gaze to me, and I watch her smooth her skirt under the table. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and I feel bad for dropping such a bomb on her.

“Rachel, I’m sorry. I should have eased you into this or something.”

She stands and moves to the sink, where she turns on the water and starts doing dishes. What the hell?

“Hey,” I say, but she holds up a wet hand.

“I just need a minute.”

She always cleans when she’s freaked out. No wonder her house is so immaculate. If I had all these kids running around all the time, I’d probably be freaked out all the time too.

When she’s placed the last bowl in the dishwasher, she turns and dries her hands on a dishtowel.

“Okay, so you’re telling me you’re in love with a married man who wants you to be a surrogate mother for him and his wife, who is a witch. Oh, wait. And he wants to pay for college and buy you a house.”

“Correct. Yes, you’ve got it. Exactly.” I nod my head curtly in agreement. She’s still freaking out, but there isn’t anything left to clean, so she paces the length of the kitchen, back and forth, with one arm wrapped around her waist, tapping her front tooth with her pointer finger from her other hand.

“I knew I should have never mentioned this damn surrogacy thing to you. Now I’ve gone and completely screwed up your life.” She stops tapping and pinches the skin between her eyes. I’ve given her a headache. Great.

“You haven’t done anything, and I never said I was accepting his offer.”

She snaps her head up so hard that I worry about her neck. I have never seen her look so relieved.

“Oh, thank God, Lourdes. I thought you had gone off the deep end. You can’t agree to this. It’s too much, and there are feelings involved, feelings you shouldn’t be having. I’m going to talk to Blake about getting a loan for you to go back to school in the fall. I have a friend in Berkeley. Maybe she has room for you to stay with them, or maybe we could apply for low income housing or look for a roommate. Yes, a roommate. That’s a really good idea.”

She’s rambling. Her drastic reaction makes me think that maybe I’ve been living in a fairytale world. How’s this thing even going to work with Liam? He’s married, for God’s sake. What am I thinking? Of course I can’t have anything to do with this bizarre, fucked up plan. So many things could go wrong. My life is difficult enough without dragging a psycho woman and a sexy, gorgeous, attentive, dominant man . . . oh, who am I kidding? I’m not going to say no, but I’ve led Rachel to believe I am. I’m sort of scared to tell her now. She might drop dead right here, with her daughter and a bunch of daycare kids in the yard.

“Sis, don’t worry about it right now. We’ve got a couple of months to figure out what to do, and worst case scenario, I take a year off and work. Really, we will be ok. I’m going to get Toby and wash off his hulk paint and head home.” I scoot my chair back, but when I stand, I sway and grip the edge of the table.

“Lourdes?” Rachel says, hurrying to my side to help me back into my chair. I blink and hold my forehead with one hand and take deep breaths. I’m no expert on hangovers, but I’m sure they aren’t supposed to take your breath away and make you dizzy. I’ve had two bottles of water and a Gatorade since I woke up. I shouldn’t be dehydrated either.

“What happened? You’re pale as a ghost. Did you drink at that club last night? Oh God, did someone drug you? Those kinds of places are crawling with crazies putting drugs in pretty girls’ drinks.”

“Rachel, stop. No, I didn’t have too much to drink, and nobody drugged me. I was with friends all night. I’m just tired and stressed out. I need to go home and spend some time with Toby and rest. That’s all.”

“You looked dizzy. Are you dizzy? Do you think you should be driving?”

This is actually a very good question, one I’m not going to answer honestly because I have a burning desire to get out of here and go home. If I feel weird once we’re on our way, I’ll stop and call Kit. I have a few things to say to him anyway, like why the hell didn’t you take me home last night?

“I’m fine, just a little dehydrated. Do you have anything I can take with me to drink?”

That ought to keep her busy for a minute while I get Toby. I don’t even care about his green paint anymore. I just want to go home.

When I get up this time, I’m fine. No dizziness no shortness of breath, totally fine. I find Toby out back, and he whines about leaving, but when I promise he can come back tomorrow, he’s more agreeable. Fruit punch Gatorade in one hand, green hulk in the other, I leave my nerve-ridden sister standing on the porch and nibbling her nails. When we pull out of the drive, we both wave and she calls out, “See you tomorrow. Drive safe.” I stick my hand out the window and wave as we drive away.

“Did you have fun today with Ivy?”

“Fun with Ivy,” he repeats clapping his hands. I’m going to have to wash his car seat to get all that green paint off it, but right now, it’s worth it. I want my bed. Two blocks away, we hit a red light, and when it turns green, another bout of shortness of breath hits me. I pull into a McDonald’s parking lot, hoping it will subside as quickly as it came on.

Most kids would be excited about being at McDonald’s, but Toby doesn’t even know what it is. He’s never been to one. We eat pretty healthy, and I figure he’ll get plenty of that crap when he’s older, so why start now?

“Mommy go,” Toby says, but I’ve already decided to call Kit. It’s a twenty- or thirty-minute drive home, and I can’t keep stopping, or we won’t make it until lunch time tomorrow.

“In just a minute, baby. Mommy’s calling a friend.”

I dial Kit, and he picks up on the first ring.

“What’s up, Lovey? Did you and Chachi have a good time last night?”

“Kit, I need you to come and get me. I’m at the McDonald’s a couple of blocks from my sister’s. Do you know where I mean?”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“What’s wrong? Girl, you’re not in trouble, are you? Why on earth are you at a McDonald’s? You don’t eat that shit. And why are you calling me instead of your sister if she’s a couple of blocks away?”

“Kit, I don’t feel good. I must be really hung over or something, and I don’t need my sister freaking out. I have Toby with me, and I don’t want to risk anything happening with him in the car, okay? Please?”

“Sit tight, honey. I’m on my way. You sure you don’t need an ambulance or something? I can call 911.”

“God no, Kit. I’m just dizzy. Don’t call 911. Now you sound like Rachel. Just come get us please.”

“All right, on my way.” He disconnects the line, and I turn in my seat to tell Toby we have to wait a few minutes only to find him passed out, drool running through green paint at the corner of his mouth.

I turn around and put my hands on the wheel and take a few breaths. Not two minutes later, I’m fine, like nothing ever happened, and I’m feeling stupid for calling Kit. If he’s not here in five, I’m calling him back to tell him I can make it home on my own. I’m overreacting. I turn the air down and the radio on. It’s set to my usual pop channel, but I find myself surfing for one that plays house music or trance, anything that will make me feel close to Liam. I find one that’s not exactly what his music sounds like but close enough. I lock my doors, lean my head back on the seat, and close my eyes.

I’m jolted awake by someone rapping hard on my window. I jump and snap back when the seatbelt holds me in place. It takes me a second to orientate myself, but my window rapper isn’t being patient. He’s yelling my name, and he just rapped his knuckles against the glass again. Toby is awake now. I glance into the rearview mirror and see that he’s crying because he woke up and rubbed green pain in his eyes. My heart is racing from the initial adrenaline rush of being startled when I look out the window and find Liam staring back at me with wild eyes and a panicked look on his face. He’s jabbing his finger in the direction of the lock, and I press the button.

“Fu…” he stops mid-curse when he hears Toby crying and looks back and forth between us, not knowing which one to help first.

“I’m fine. I was sleeping. Let me out so I can help Toby. He has paint in his eyes.”

Instead of moving aside to let me out, he closes the door and opens the back door.

“Hey there, little man. I’m Liam. I’m your mommy’s friend. I think you got some of your awesome green hulk paint in your eyes. Can I help you get it out?”

Toby holds still, and with amazing calm, he lowers his hands and grips the sides of his car seat, squeezing his little eyes shut as tight as he can.

“Lourdes, do you have a bag for him?”

“Yes, it should be in the seat next to him—the red one there,” I say, turning in my seat to point to Toby’s overnight bag. Liam unzips it and takes out the package of baby wipes we still keep on hand for such emergencies and begins to clean Toby’s eyes.

My heart lurches in my chest as I watch him treat my son with the same loving tenderness that he treated me to just the night before. Every experience I have with Liam proves more and more what an exceptional man he is. He has an honorable sense of character, and I’m positive he would be a wonderful father.

“Okay, buddy. Can you see now?” Liam asks.

“I see you,” he answers in a peekaboo singsong voice, and Liam chuckles. I’ve never heard him chuckle. Can chuckling be sexy? Yes, chuckling can definitely be sexy.

“We can get the rest of you cleaned up when we get home,” Liam tells him like he’s his daddy and this is just a normal thing for him to come and clean paint out of his eyes in the back seat of my car in a McDonald’s parking lot.

“I’m going to throw these away and move him to my car. Are you okay to get out and walk a few steps?”

“Oh, Liam, you don’t have to. Hey, where’s Kit? I called him to come and—” Kit. He’s playing matchmaker with me and a married man. He has no shame.

“I was closer. He asked me to check on you. Are you feeling okay now?”

“Yes, much better. I totally overreacted. We’re fine.” I’m not sure if I’m fine or not, but I feel stupid having him rescue me.

“Lourdes, you were nervous enough to call your friend to come and get you. I’m not leaving you here. You can either get out and get into my car, or I can take you out and put you in my car—whichever you prefer,” he says, lowering his head to look at me through his lashes. I stare at him, and he arches one brow when I don’t answer right away. He can arch that one brow pretty high. Like The Rock high, another thing I like. Hmm. Imagine that.

“We go, we go,” Toby hollers, and I cave.

“All right, go ahead and move him. I’ll grab his stuff. I’m fine to walk.”

I start to open the door, but he’s already out of the back, opening it for me.

“What happened?” He asks, taking my hand to help me out.

“I don’t know. I just got really dizzy. I drank plenty of water and even some Gatorade this morning. Did I really drink that much?”

“No.” He squints one eye, and I’m not sure if it’s from the sun or if this is how he looks when he’s thinking hard.

“My sister thinks I was drugged. She says people in clubs like yours are all out to take advantage of pretty girls.”

“You weren’t drugged.”

“How do you know for sure? Somebody could have slipped something in my drink. I don’t even remember you bringing me home. Hey, you didn’t try any funny business in the car, did you?” I ask, but I’m only playing.

“I had security run through the entire night of video this morning to make sure because I wondered the same thing. You were just tired, and no, I most certainly did not try any funny business. I told you I want our first kiss to be sin-free, no strings, no rings, just you and me and honest, pure energy.”

I do remember that, and I can’t believe he went to all the trouble to make sure I hadn’t been drugged. Oh my God, how could I have forgotten? It’s not hard at all to believe that he went to such lengths to make sure I wasn’t drugged. He was drugged by Amira. He is married to that wicked woman because of just that.

“Thank you. For making sure I was safe and for not taking advantage of the situation. It would have been so easy for you.”

“It was nothing.”

“You’re wrong. It wasn’t nothing. You were looking out for me because nobody looked out for you once.” His hand tightens around mine to the point of pain, but I keep still. He looks over my shoulder for a moment and then to the ground between us before dropping my hand.

“Come on, let’s go. We need to get Toby home,” he says.

Toby is fussing in his seat now. He’s tired and hot and . . . green.

“I never introduced you two.”

“We bonded over green paint. I think we’re good.”

I’m sort of stunned for a couple of reasons. First, Toby isn’t great with strange men. We don’t have a lot of gentleman callers at our house. Second, Liam is just so damn good at this. I wonder if he has little brothers and sisters that he took care of growing up. I wonder where he grew up. Come to think of it, there are a million things I don’t know about Mr. Liam Wild. That needs to change, and quickly. We’re going to have a baby—well, technically, he is having a baby. Or I am having a baby that he is going to have. Oh my God. I need to get out of the heat. I’m even confusing myself now.

When we are all buckled into Liam’s car, I look back at one very confused Toby. He’s buckled into the same spot as he usually is in our car, but this is definitely not our car. I have never even heard of a Touareg. It’s an SUV, and it’s very clean and very un-kid like. I’m scared to death Toby is going to touch something in here with his green hands, but Liam doesn’t seem concerned at all.

“Toby, baby, keep your hands inside your seat, okay? Just until we get home. We don’t want to mess up Liam’s nice car.”

“Yi-um,” Toby says, sounding out the short name like he always does with new words.

“Very good, this is Liam.” I say and point at Liam.

He raises a hand to wave at Toby in the back seat and looks at him in the rearview mirror. Toby giggles and waves a smudgy hand back, and the two are now officially best buds.

I turn back to face the front and notice my address is on his GPS.

“How’d you know my address?” I ask.

“I took you home last night. You do remember I took you home last night, right?” He asks, looking over at me with a wrinkle between his worried eyes.

“Yes, well no. I mean, I remember being home and you being with me, but the drive? Not so much.”

“You were really tired. I got your address from your driver’s license. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You were rummaging through my purse?” I ask, feigning fake shock.

“I wouldn’t call it rummaging. There were three things in there: your license, your keys, and a lip gloss.” He glances my way and lifts one corner of his mouth in a smirk that makes me want to crawl into his lap. I’m not one for spontaneity. In fact, I plan nearly everything down to the second, but if Toby weren’t in the back seat, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t just slide over there, straddle him, and kiss his delicious, full lips. What. The. Hell? I can’t believe where my mind just went. It’s like I’m not even me anymore. These are my thoughts right now—sweet, play-it-safe Lourdes, who hasn’t had a steady boyfriend since her high school sweetheart, wants to make out in a car with a man she’s seen three times. I’ve officially lost my mind.

“You have paint on your face,” he says.

I flip the visor down and check my face.

I groan. “I must have looked crazy sleeping in my car with green paint all over my face and arms, huh?”

“I’m not gonna lie. I was worried for a minute there. I thought you had passed out or something, and through the window, the paint didn’t exactly help your coloring.”

I look at my arms. Why did Rachel let me out of her house like this? I was in a hurry, that’s why. A little wave of dread flows through me when I think about telling her that I’m going to accept Liam’s offer.

“Sorry. I was really tired, and I thought Kit would be a little while getting here.”

“Have you eaten lunch?” he asks.

“Oh, uh no, not yet. We can get something when we get home, though. It’s fine.”

“Nonsense,” he says and presses the voice command button on his steering wheel.

“Call Urban Life House.” he instructs the automated calling service.

An automated voice says calling Urban Life House, and within seconds the line is ringing. We don’t have a feature like that in my little 2002 Toyota Corolla. I wonder what Toby is thinking of all of this. I turn to see his reaction and find him looking around the back seat for the person who belongs to the voice speaking overhead. His inquisitive eyes meet mine.

“Yady?” he says, holding up his hands palms-up.

“It’s a lady on the phone, yes. Liam is talking to her.” I try to explain, but it’s clear he’s still confused.

“Yady talk.”

“Yes lady talk.” I’m not going to try and expand on that. If lady talk is good enough for him, it’s good enough for me. A man answers the phone. Great, now I’ll have to explain that one to Toby too. Poor kid.

“Urban Life House, can I help you?”

“Yes, this is Liam Wild. I’d like to place an order to be delivered.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Wild. Do you want it delivered to your usual address?”

“No. Actually, I’d like you to send it to 1114 Jackson Drive, apartment 3B,” Liam says.

The man pauses and then stutters out a quick Wha—what would you like to order today, sir? Damn, do I live in that horrible of a neighborhood? Maybe Liam just lives in an ultra-posh neighborhood and this guy is shocked that he’s having this meal delivered to my not-so-ultra-posh neighborhood. Either way, I feel sort of crappy now.

“Do either of you have any food allergies?” he asks.

“No, no allergies,” I say and slide my hands under my thighs. He notices and narrows his eyes for a split second before he returns his attention to the road and our lunch order. I thought about telling him we only eat organic and vegetarian for the most part, with chicken or fish occasionally, but he seems to already know this. He orders three ‘special’ chicken salads with everything and three tuna sandwiches.

When he’s finished, he disconnects the call. He eyes my hands tucked under my legs.

“Everything all right?” he asks.

“Oh, yes, sure. Thank you for lunch. You didn’t have to. We have plenty to eat at home,” I say a little defensively.

“I wasn’t insinuating that you didn’t. In fact, I saw your extremely organized refrigerator when I got you some water last night. I just wanted you to be able to go home and relax and not have to fix anything for Toby to eat.”

Now I feel like a jackass. He’s just trying to be sweet and save me the trouble of cooking. I’m used to being the only one responsible for everything, so having someone offer to help feels weird.

“Sorry, I guess that sounded a little rude. I’m pretty independent, but I appreciate the gesture. It’s kind of you.”

“Yeah, well I’m a kind guy,” he says with a wink.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re being sarcastic?”

“Because I am. I’m really a dick. Oh shit, I mean crap.” He stumbles through an array of borderline curse words, and I giggle and pull my hands out from underneath me.

“Sorry, not used to being around kids. Do you think he heard me?” He’s looking in the rearview mirror again to check.

“It’s fine, and no. If he heard you, he would have repeated it—a lot.”

His mouth opens in a silent O and he shakes his head up and down.

“Good to know.”

“Yes, very good to know.” I smile, and we drive in silence except for Toby’s humming and self chatter coming from the back seat until we are home. Liam pulls right up next to the outdoor staircase that leads to the second floor. He instructs me to stay here, and he unbuckles Toby from his seat and carries him around to my door, where he opens it for me and helps me out with his free hand.

“You first. I’ll walk behind in case you get dizzy.” He punches the lock button on his key fob and nudges me in the direction of the stairs.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to walk behind me to look at my—” I rethink my last word in front of Toby the parrot.

“I will take every opportunity that presents itself to admire your perfect ass.” He mouths the word ass and I chuckle. Toby is carefully watching our interactions from Liam’s hip, then Toby peers carefully at Liam.

“What’s up, buddy?” Liam asks when he feels the weight of Toby’s stare on him.

“Ye-um hairy.” Toby says, placing his hand on Liam’s jaw.

Liam laughs. “Yeah. I skipped shaving this morning. Had a late night last night making sure some lady made it home safely.” He directs the second half of his sentence at me.

We are almost to my door.

“I’m sure she is very appreciative,” I say.

I unlock the door. Liam has had his hand on the small of my back all the way up the stairs, and when he removes it to rearrange Toby in his arms, I immediately miss the soothing warmth of it.

Inside, he heads straight for the bathroom while I unpack Toby’s overnight bag in his room across the hall. I hear the water turn on and the tub filling while the two of them chat back and forth about the Hulk. When I’m done, I join them in the tiny space.

Toby is out of his clothes down to his underwear, the tub is a quarter full, and Liam is standing up.

“I can bathe him if you’re both ok with that while you lie down, but I completely understand if you don’t want a stranger washing your kid. I thought I’d get him started at least.”

No one has ever offered to bathe my son, other than my sister once when he fell in the mud at her house and my mother a time or two when he was an infant. It’s sweet, and I trust him with no real reason to—I just do.

As it turns out, Toby makes the decision for us when he drops his batman underwear and crawls over the side of the tub. We both look at him with surprise as the water around him slowly turns green.

“Ye-um bath,” he says and smacks his hands on the surface of the water, splashing water everywhere.

Liam and I laugh and wipe the green drops of water from our arms.

“I guess that’s that,” I say, and Liam tips his head to the side and regards me carefully. He reaches out to wipe a drop of water from my cheek but doesn’t remove his hand when it’s gone.

“Yes. That’s that.” He holds my gaze, and I sense there is a double meaning to his words.

He snaps out of his mini reverie and shoos me from the bathroom.

“Go, lie down. We have de-hulking to do in here, and the food should be here soon,” he says, turning me by my shoulders and gently swatting my behind. I hop away, covering my ass, and giggle, but I can’t help but to think that it’s odd how comfortable we are in each other’s lives after such a short time. And I also find it interesting that I quite liked having my behind swatted by Liam Wild.

It’s three in the afternoon, and we have stuffed ourselves full of the best chicken salad I’ve ever tasted. Liam put Toby down for a nap an hour ago. I have been lying on my side on top of my comforter, hugging my pillow and listening to Liam talk on the phone to someone at his club about tonight’s lineup of guest DJs and specialty alcohol deliveries. I’m not eavesdropping, it’s just that my apartment is so small there is nowhere you can go where someone else can’t hear you. When he disconnects the call, I hear him pad down the hall to my room. I’m facing away from the door with my back to him so he doesn’t know if I’m sleeping. I listen to him close the door halfway and toe off his blinding white Adidas tennis shoes. Every time I’ve seen him, he has on a pair of shoes that look like they have never been worn before.

I hold my breath, wondering what he’s planning on doing, until I feel the mattress dip behind me. He slides his arm under my pillow and the other around my waist and pulls me against him so that we are spooning. I think my heart may have skipped a beat, and I’m sure he knows I’m not asleep now, because it’s pounding wildly in my chest like a base drum. This is a pretty intimate position to be in with a married man with whom I am very smitten. Every sensible part of me is yelling move, but my heart and my soul and my body aren’t hearing any of that. They say stay. Majority wins . . . yeah.

I moan when he nuzzles against my neck. Shit. I actually moaned out loud.

“Lourdes?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I know this is going to be difficult, but I want you to do something for me, okay?”

“Okay,” I answer, but I’m not at all sure I’m okay with doing something for him without knowing what it will be.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers.

I am fifty percent relieved that he simply wants me to sleep and fifty percent disappointed that he only wants me to sleep. But this feels so amazing being in his arms, and I’m so tired that I easily agree to his request.

“Okay,” I say and close my eyes. As keyed up as I am and as responsive as my body is to his, I don’t think it takes me long at all to fall asleep in his protective arms.