Page 73 of When We Had Forever
“Yeah. I’m here.” I clutch the receiver until my knuckles go numb. The room seems to hold its breath, the firelit shadows and lemon scent of floor wax swirling together. Even the lantern’s flame stills as if in waiting.
It strikes me then how alone I am here. This warm oasis is nothing but a pinprick, a fleck of light amid this darkened ocean of trees. As the weight of my isolation hits me, I realize I actuallywantto tell him. Want to share that part of myself with someone. I even want to know what he’ll say back. Whether he’s the kind of man who looks up at the stars and sees elegance, or whether he left that sense of wonder behind long ago.
Still, I shy away from baring myself to a stranger without taking the lay of the land first. “You know, I tried to explain it to Michael once, and he thought I was crazy. You’ll probably think so, too.”
“Nah. Nothing you could say would change my opinion of you.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can. Because Ialreadythink you’re unhinged. You married my asshole brother. Indisputable proof that you’re fucking nuts.”
Despite myself, I chuckle. “Okay.Maybe. Maybe I’ll tell you. But only if I have that drink, and only if you tell me something about you first.”
He draws a crisp breath. “Wow. I didn’t think that would actually work.”
I make a tsking sound Kate would be proud of. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It has to be something good. Not some throwaway confession like how you only eat the top parts of muffins or secretly have a thing for women who bowl.”
He chuckles. “Nah. My bowling fetish and habit of dismembering baked goods are already public knowledge, anyway. I’ve got worse. Way worse.”
My eyebrows creep upward. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a whole fucking dungeon of things no one knows about me. But if we’re trading secrets, maybe you should tell me what yours is about. Just a general category, so I can see if I’ve got anything that matches up.”
I fiddle with the phone cord. “Okay. But it’s not a secret, really. It’s more like... Have you ever felt like nature could heal you? Help get you through something traumatic?”
He’s silent so long that I tense up. “That’swhat this is about?” he finally says.
“Maybe.”
“Huh. You know what? Yeah, I’ve felt that way lots of times.”
My breath catches. “You have?”
“Yep. One of those experiences even saved my life once, if you can believe that.”
I sit up straighter. “Really?”
“Really. And I’ll tell you all about it. But you should probably get that drink.”
“Okay. But it’ll take me a minute. Or two.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Go ahead. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”
“Shouldn’t you, though?”
“Probably,” he says. “But fuck it.”
A strange energy catches hold of me as I set the receiver on the rug. In the kitchen, I dig out the paper cups I bought at the market and pour from my bottle of Cabernet—twist-off, since I assumed the corkscrew would be packed up. In the bedroom, I shuck my dirt-smeared clothes and don a garnet-colored off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater and black leggings, all the while wondering if Grayson will still be on the line when I get back. But I don’t rush. Some rebellious part of me wonders how long he’ll wait. At what point he’ll deem his time too valuable for me to waste.
Michael would have told me to call him back.
But Grayson isn’t Michael, because when I arrange the daybed’s throw pillows into a cozy nest by the fire and climb in with my wine and the phone, he’s still there.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
A long pause. That strange energy intensifies, zipping around like wasps in my bloodstream. I try to soothe it with a gulp of wine. “So. Tell me what happened to you.”
