Page 54 of When We Had Forever
I pause. We rarely, if ever, go out. “You don’t want to order in?”
“No. This has been a day from hell. All I want to do now is eat lobster by candlelight with a beautiful woman. My woman.”
I squint at him. “Even though you have a black eye?”
“MostlybecauseI have a black eye,” he says, matter-of-fact.
My fingers twine as I hover in the doorway. I have nothing against fancy dinners, but spending an evening separated by a gulf of linen and silverware strikes me as an unlikely way to bridge this distance. I’d rather find our way back to the evenings spent entangled on the couch with delivered Italian, when nothing could penetrate our blissful bubble. When nothing mattered buttoday.
Michael must catch my hesitation, because his expression softens. He comes and cups my face. “Look, I know everything’s strange, but it won’t feel this way forever. You’re staying. I won’t drink anymore. From now on, we’re going to eat expensive food and have lots of sex and just...take care of each other, okay?”
I gaze up. Those eyes hold mine, yet despite his assurances, they’re more opaque than fathomless right now. “Things will go back to the way they were?” I prompt.
“Yes. Soon.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “Soon.”
He kisses me, with enough heat that my misgivings melt away.
I change into a clingy dress that earns a look of approval. Downstairs, in the parking garage, the Audi sits in its usual spot. Michael tells me he picked it up from an impound lot today after getting a new key made at the dealership.
On the way to the restaurant, he drives with a firm ten-and-two grip. I try for a joke, though I already suspect my efforts to lighten the mood will prove futile. “Since when do you drive like an old lady?”
“Old lady?” He gives me a skeptical look. “What do you mean?”
“You look like you’re worried you’ll lose control at any second.”
Instead of cracking a smile, he actually ponders. “Maybe it’s time I took driving more seriously. It’s not like there’s no risk involved. And now I have something to protect.”
Something to protect. The sentiment should soothe me, but I can’t help wondering how long it will take for Michael’s humor to return. His open, easy confidence.
Soon, I tell myself, settling back in the seat. He said soon, and he hasn’t broken a promise to me yet.
Someday soon, everything will go back to the way it was.
AFTER
The cabin’s telephone shrieks, rattling the glass of the front door. I fumble with my groceries, trying to maneuver the lock, but the key sticks.
The phone rings again.Damn it.
I drop my bags. Glass shatters, but I don’t stop to assess the damage, just wrench open the door and beeline for the ancient rotary phone by the daybed, where I yank up the receiver midring. “Hello?”
A long pause. The plastic digs into my ear. “Hi, Mina? It’s Grayson. Grayson Drake.”
His voice rolls through me, top to bottom.
Aged bourbon.
Smoky, oak-paneled rooms.
Breathless moans in the dark.
One minute, I’m standing. The next, I’m on the floor with my knees jammed together and my sneakers splayed to either side. I have no idea how I got that way, only that a wave has knocked me off my feet.
“Mina? Are you there?”
Oh, god. I clutch the phone with damp fingers. He sounds so much like Michael that I can’t breathe.
