Page 98 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
That's ok. I have forever.
36
WILLIAM
"Guys, hurry up. We're gonna be late."
I raise my voice toward the bathroom door. The only answer I get is Sienna's moan. Low, muffled, not remotely rushed.
I look at myself in the mirror and I'm smiling.
That's been the difference lately. The old William would’ve been at the door already, keys in hand, grumbling about punctuality. Now I'm standing here listening to Sienna’s moans and there's no urgency in me anywhere.
I’m less rigid. Less angry. Lighter in a way I haven't tried to explain to myself.
It's been like that since the Vale Hotel. Since the four of us have settled into something. I don't know what to call it. I've stopped trying to name it and started just living it.
There's no jealousy. That was the part I'd expected to have to fight through, and it never arrived. Some nights it's the four of us, like it was that first time, and other nights it's just a two or three configuration that arranges itself without any real discussion or effort. Last week it was me, Carter and Sienna inher apartment, and two nights ago it was just me and her, her bedroom, the door closed, no one else in it.
Carter couldn't make it last night because of a work thing, texted around nine. So it ended up being me, Adrian and Sienna here at Adrian's beach house, which is where I've been waking up more often lately. His spare drawer has three of my shirts in it. I stopped thinking about that.
We woke up tangled with the sun cutting through the gap in the curtains, nobody moving for a while. Sienna was between us with her back against my chest. Adrian had one arm across her waist and I lay there listening to the ocean outside the window underneath her slow breathing and I couldn't think of a single thing that I would rather be doing. Adrian kissed her shoulder collarbone. She made a sleepy sound, turned in my arms and we kissed her, her mouth soft and half-asleep.
Adrian eventually announced a shower was required, and for ecological purposes, grabbed Sienna, and disappeared.
I took the guest ensuite and gave them alone time.
Now I can hear she's getting close.
I check my watch. Look back at the mirror. Stop trying to care about the time and mostly succeed.
When the bathroom door eventually opens, Sienna comes out in a white towel.
Her skin is still flushed from the steam. Hair wet and loose. The towel sits low on her chest and I can’t help it. I need to be near her.
I pull her to me kissing her with my hands in her damp hair, her wet skin warm against my shirt, and she makes a small sound against my mouth that goes straight to my body.
The towel drops.
I get both hands on her ass and pull her closer so she can feel exactly what she does to me. It has become a permanent condition whenever I’m around her.
"I thought we were late," Adrian says from the bathroom doorway.
I pull back. My hands stay on her for one more second before I let go. I turn her around by the hips and bring my palm down across her ass. "Hurry up getting ready or you're going to be late for your own Green Guerrilla thing."
That gets her moving. She's already heading for her bag, and I can see her trying not to smile. "Thanks again for coming along to help. It really means a lot to me. We are going to need every hand we can get. There is a lot to do."
"You sure you have authorization this time?" Adrian asks. He's pulling a shirt over his head, watching her.
"Yes." She doesn't look up from finding her clothes. "For the thousandth time, yes. This time they even invited us. Santa Rita Correctional Facility wants us to help with their pilot rehabilitation garden initiative."
I kiss her forehead on my way to the door. "I'm going to make us a quick breakfast." And I leave them to finish getting ready.
Adrian's fridge is different now. I stand there with the door open looking at it. Before Sienna it was brie, three beers, and a lime that had seen better days. Now there's produce in the crisper, eggs on the second shelf, a container of something that might be leftovers from Tuesday. A pepper. Actual yogurt. I call it the Sienna Effect and I've watched it happen over the past month, her presence leaving traces in all of our spaces that none of us have tried to correct.
I'm deciding between eggs and toast when something moves at the glass door to the balcony.
Tabby cat. Sitting at the glass looking in.
