Page 18 of A Stranger's Kiss
This is different, Samuel,a little voice inside me says.
Of course it is. There’s a part of me that knows this will be nothing like what I had with Atticus. A part of me that’s longing for…
What? What am I longing to have with Arielle? She’s the woman who takes care of my cat, for God’s sake. She’s probably 70 with coke-bottle spectacles, and hard of hearing.
Though she heard me perfectly well when I called her from my hotel room. When I whispered in her ear.
The driver is waiting for me as I head out of the passenger lounge. His smart navy uniform stands out from the crowd of eager friends and family waiting for their loved ones. I imagine the same for myself someday. Not just some polite employee ready to take my bags, but somebody actually excited to see me. Someone who throws their arms around my neck and presses warm, happy kisses against my face. Someone who’s built a home with me, shares a life…
Oh, for God’s sake, Samuel!
How the hell did I make the quantum leap from just planning to meet Arielle, to having an entire future with her? She’s still a complete fucking stranger.
I scroll through my phone, trying to distract myself, ignoring a string of messages from Cory, checking email. Yet my heart is in my throat as the gates to my property swing open and the gravel crunches beneath the car tires as we drive up to the entrance. The driver is out of the car and holding my door open, then opening the trunk to get my bags. I jog up the stairs to the front door, barely noticing as he sets my bags beside me and tips his hat in farewell. If the car makes a sound as it leaves, I’m not aware of it. I punch in the key code, the door swings open and I shove my bags into the hallway, leaving them beside the door.
“Hi honey, I’m home!” I call out, then stop myself. It’s the greeting I always send to Munchkin when I get in, but suddenly I wonder if Arielle might take it the wrong way. There’s no answering meow, but there’s the aroma of frying onions and grilled beef patties coming from the kitchen. Burgers! She’s cooking burgers for me.
“Almost ready, come and get it!” a voice calls back. I’m pretty sure I hear Munchkin join in.
I grin, my strides lengthening as I head in the direction of the cooking scents. I step through the wide doorway to the kitchen and run my eyes down the figure standing at the stove with her back to me. She’s trim, athletic even. I don’t care if she’s 70. If the front half matches the back, I’ll be a happy man.
A wave of surprisingly lustrous red hair has been swept up into a thick ponytail the swings between her shoulder blades. There’s not a streak of gray there, but that doesn’t mean much anymore. Munchkin is sitting on the kitchen table and at the sight of me he makes a cheerful chirping sound and I reach for him.
“Just a minute,” she says, adjusting the temperature of the hob. And then she finally turns to face me. Her mouth drops open. “You!” she gasps.
This isn’t right…it can’t be happening. My brain refuses to register what I’m seeing…whoI’m seeing. This isn’t my Arielle. Can’t be the woman I’ve been pouring my soul out to all this time.
“Where’s Arielle?” I demand. “And what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
I’m staring into the eyes of the woman I kissed in the parking lot.
End
