Page 99 of Good at Being Alive
As if in telling him this secret about my mother, I’ve accidentally trod on a secret of his own.
Bex
Six days later, I landin Madeira, a couple hundred miles off Morocco’s coast and surrounded by the Atlantic on all sides.
I take a deep breath the moment I step onto the tarmac. The air is balmy and sweet, refreshingly pleasant after a series of ninety-degree days at home.
A car delivers me to the oceanfront home Theo and I will share, just outside Funchal. Lars appears to be making amends after sticking us in that RV on the last trip: the interior is magnificent, with two bedrooms and a sliding glass wall that leads to the infinity pool.
Unfortunately, it appears that—despite having larger houses down the road—the crew has made our home their own as well. When I arrive, Katrina is making popcorn in the microwave and Jon is asleep on the couch.
“Sorry, Bex,” says LJ, bouncing a tennis ball as he walks in, “you’ll be seeing a lot of us this week. You’ve got a much better view than we do.”
I smile, sliding the glass door open to let in the breeze. “I like having people around,” I tell him. And it’s true. It’s so good tohave swapped out that stale old house in New Jersey for this modern, spotless one that I don’t mind who’s in here withme.
Though I might feel otherwise once Theo gets here tomorrow. And Iknowhe’ll feel otherwise.
I pass through the wide, spare living room and move on to the larger of the two bedrooms. It has a massive platform bed and floor-to-ceiling glass on two sides: one overlooking the ocean, the other overlooking a putting green.
Theo’s at his desk when I video call, his frown easing into a smile when he sees me. I love that I make him smile now. So few things do…it’s a little miraculous that I’m among them.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask.
“For you, yes. How’s the house?”
“It’s amazing. I’d give you a tour of the living area, but the crew is in there, so I’ll just show you the primary bedroom for now.”
He sits forward. “Why is the crew in our house? I’m not going through Norway all over again.”
“We’ve got a better view and more space, apparently, but they’re sleeping elsewhere. Anyway, this is the bedroom, which has its own putting green.” I turn the camera to show him.
“All I’m seeing is a whole lot of glass that bloody well better have floor-to-ceiling blinds.”
I grin as I hit a button to lower the blinds. “It does. Though obviously this room is mine since my life is more tragic.”
He rocks back in his chair, propping his legs on his desk, hands linked behind his neck. “Ah. Then you’re not planning to share with me?”
“You’ll need to earn it,” I reply, walking into the bathroom. “Maybe we can have a competition on the putting green.”
“We’re not using that fucking putting green once,” he growls. “Come up with another way I can earn it.”
I prop the camera on the counter and turn on the water before I push my jeans to the floor. Behind me, he groans.
“Hmmm,” I say, turning toward the phone as I pull my shirt overhead. “Nothing is coming to mind.”
“Jesus,” he rasps, crossing his office to shut the door.
“You don’t actually expect phone sex when the crew is twenty feet away?” I whisper, unclasping my bra.
“Yes,” he grunts, his eyes dark, his lids heavy. “I absolutely do. Tell them to leave. Put the call on speaker andI’lltell them.”
I shake my head. “For now, you’ll just need to picture this: us in that shower with me on my knees. You could be as messy as you want.”
“Fuck me, Rebecca,” he says. “Tell them to get out, right fucking now, then climb on that counter and spread your legs.”
“Make me,” I reply, blowing him a kiss as I climb into the shower.
If he didn’t miss me before, I guarantee he’s missing me now.
