Giving It Up by Amber Lin

brought me gifts of kindness and health every day. “Wow, did you buy out the store?”
    “I didn’t know what you already had, so I just got everything they had.”
    I opened a few to take. “You didn’t have to do this. Thanks, though. This is really great.”
    “No problem. Should I put Bailey to bed?”
    Bailey examined Colin with undisguised curiosity, looking no closer to sleep than she had a few minutes ago. “Uh, sure. You could try that.”
    “Any specific thing she likes?”
    “I usually read a few books and then sing to her. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, like tonight, I try to cuddle her back to sleep.”
    “Okay,” he said and headed toward the hallway.
    No one except for me and Shelly had ever put her to sleep before, and I doubted Colin had tons of childcare experience, so I wasn’t expecting success. Still, grateful for the reprieve, I leaned against the counter with my eyes closed for a few minutes.
    I took a bunch of pills to help with various symptoms and then headed to Bailey’s bedroom. The door was cracked open, and I peeked inside. Bailey lay on the bed with her eyes closed.
    Colin sat on the edge stroking her hair and singing. “ In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who stand looking… ”
    Led Zeppelin! I clapped my hand over my mouth.
    This big, strong man, wearing a muscle shirt and cargo pants, sang rock songs to a toddler in the middle of the night. I was so toast. Game over. And it was doubly terrifying, considering I had no idea how to make him stick around. He would leave and take his sweetness and his Pepto and our hearts.
    In disgust at my own vulnerability, I stalked into the living room and started picking up Bailey’s things.
    Colin came in and leaned against the door frame. “Hey, I can do that. You can rest.”
    “Is she down?”
    “Out like a light.”
    I closed my eyes again for a long minute, savoring the peace. “Thank you. Really.”
    “No problem.”
    “Here.” I patted the couch. “Come and sit. Not too close, you don’t want to catch this thing.”
    He rolled his eyes and sat. “After what we did earlier, I don’t think an extra foot is going to help me.”
    I laughed, which kicked off a coughing spurt. When it was over, I groaned and rolled my head forward. Colin shifted closer and kneaded my shoulders.
    “Jesus,” I said. “Stop being perfect.”
    His hands froze. “I’m not perfect.”
    “Okay,” I said, partly because I hadn’t meant to offend him and partly because I wanted him to continue. His fingers, thick and calloused, started to move again, pushing away my knots. Those hands were strong enough to hurt me, but instead they brought me pleasure and now comfort.
    God, this was better than sex. It was probably best not to tell him that, male ego being what it was, but it was true.
    “So good,” I managed to groan, to let him know I appreciated him.
    “Shh,” he said. Even better.
    He rubbed my shoulders, my neck, even my arms, until I relaxed back into him—a puddle of sick, exhausted woman. My mind entered a slushlike state, dreamy. His arms wrapped around me, gently rubbing my hands. Who knew hands had tension?
    At first I’d been so desperate for relief that I was content to be pampered, content to use Colin that way. But after a while, even through my fog I felt the oddness of the one-sided flow of pleasure. Normally I would feel guilt that I’d even accepted it, and maybe concern that he would demand recompense, more than I had to give. But with Colin it was different. There wasn’t fear, only gratitude. I wanted him to feel good, as good as me. Of course, I also didn’t want to move or even open my eyes, so that was a dilemma.
    I turned my hands over. My fingers felt small and fragile in his large ones, like a bird’s wings fluttering in a cage, but he wasn’t holding me down. He let me explore, my fingertips tracing the calluses on his palms. I curved my