We wander along the train tracks like two lovers in a movie, walking into the afternoon sun as we talk about the town, the women, my friends, our businesses.
It feels like this could be ours.
That we could have these walks, these talks, these kisses.
That’s the trouble. Everything feels so possible with him.
22
Liam
The thing about new relationships is that when they’re good, they’re so, so good.
And infatuation—it does this thing to you.
It scrambles your brain, works its way around your heart, and makes it so all you want is to see the other person.
I start something I never did much in New York.
I take lunch breaks.
I have a little more free time here, but I also have the red-blooded motivation to step away.
The first week we’re together, we grab all the time we can. Sometimes January swings by, picks me up in her truck, and we drive. We go to the train tracks, and we sit and make out in the front seat. Then we talk. We talk about growing up in Duck Falls and Lucky Falls.
We talk about college, about our twenties and thirties, about New York and California, San Francisco and the town in Surrey where I lived before becoming an American citizen.
That makes her laugh—that I’m a citizen.
“Why is that funny?”
“Because you still have your accent, so you seem British to me.”
“Do you want me to get rid of it?” I joke.
“God, no.”
“You only want me for my accent.”
Shrugging, she slides a hand up my shirt. “It is a nice feature.”
“Then it’s a good thing I kept it,” I whisper. “All the better to seduce you with.”
I learn about some of her favorite books, and how she has a thing for women’s fiction. She eats up stories about modern women living their lives, facing challenges. I tell her about the science articles I like to read and the books I listen to that keep my brain fresh. We talk about the world and what we want for it. We chat about how we love when the trees are green, the air is clear, and it feels like Mother Earth is exhaling peacefully.
Sometimes we drive past the wineries, admiring the rolling hills, January’s hand wrapped in mine as we talk more. I’ll tell her about a patient that came in, and she’ll tell me about a client on a project she’s working on, how she’s kicking ass and beating Big Beams Construction like the badass businesswoman she is. And then I’ll tell her a story about Ethan and something funny that happened at school, and she’ll share one about Wednesday.
I learn more about Alva and Missy, and I tell her about Oliver, Summer, and Aunt Jane.
It all feels so good. But it also feels like it could be too good to be true.
I try to let myself just enjoy it. To give in to whatever magic is happening, to the moment, to all of these moments that are winding together. Only I can’t help but worry about when they are going to unravel and how much it’ll hurt when they do.
But it doesn’t always hurt. Sometimes it just feels good.
It’s Friday again, and I have two hours free in the middle of the day, and she does too. At her house, we have lunch, and then we make love in her bed as the sun streams in through the window. This time we don’t use a condom because we’re both safe and we’re both clean, and it feels absolutely incredible to pull her on top of me, to slide my hands up her body, to feel her taking me with no barriers.
Her hair fans around my face as her gorgeous body swivels, sways, moves up and down my length. Her lips fall to mine, and she tries to kiss me, she tries so damn hard, but soon she becomes lost in the pleasure.
The kisses turn sloppy. They become groans and moans and pants. Then they turn into whispers and words like . . .
Feels so good.
Never been better.
Love this.
We’re coming together and falling apart.
After, as we lie next to each other, naked and hot and tangled on the bed, I run a hand down her side. “This seems like it’s been more than just a few times.”
“It does.”
“At the risk of stating the patently obvious, I like you so much.”
Her grin is magic, and she says, “To state the obvious, I like you so much too.”
That’s what makes this tryst so wonderful and so dangerous. We are falling into something that can’t possibly last.
23
January
I’m outside tending to the garden when Ethan and Liam return from school on their bikes. My heart thumps at the sight of them wheeling down the street. Liam’s eyes lock with mine from the bike. Ethan stops and says hi, then declares, “I have to go play baseball right now.”
