Chapter 9 #2
“Well that’s tough shit.” He takes it again and holds it tight. “Because I’m a holding-hands kind of guy.”
“Weirdo,” I whisper as he holds me in a vise grip. “Fine. I’ll hold your stupid hand like a five-year-old.”
“Thank you,” he mutters, we walk down the row of stores. It has a real country feel here, people are chatting as they look around. There are restaurants and cafés. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
“It is.” He smiles.
We pick up the keys and have lunch at a quaint little restaurant, we laugh and talk and walk around and look at the stores.
I’m already having the best time.
Andrew’s arm is slung around my shoulder as we walk and I catch sight of us in shop window, it stops me dead in my tracks.
As embarrassing as this is to admit, I’ve never walked around arm in arm with someone. I’m not affectionate, and I’ve never been with someone affectionate.
I stare at our reflection just as Andrew leans in and kisses my temple, he looks so carefree and relaxed. Happy.
He’s such a natural at expressing emotion.
Where did he learn this?
Is there a manual he read, an ancient hidden textbook on being a stable adult?
Can he feel how unstable his stability makes me?
Stop it.
Get out of your head, be in the moment.
We amble back to the car and he turns me toward him and kisses me, and as his tongue slowly slides through my parted lips I feel my feet lift from the floor.
“The things I’m going to do to you, my sweet Mabel,” he whispers as he pulls me into his arms, I feel his hard length up against my hips as he holds me.
“You’re all mine for the entire weekend.”
There’s this magic that swirls between us, like a tangible force of emotion he carries with him, projecting it onto me. I’ve never been a spiritual person but if I were, I know his aura would be glowing a beautiful warm light around us right now.
He kisses me again and my stomach flutters.
Oh….
This man…the way he makes me feel.
I smile up at him and then suddenly remember where we are, or who could be watching us…. I abruptly pull out of his arms.
He looks around. “What?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
We pull up at the log cabin, and I smile, it’s exactly like I imagined. “True to its name, it’s made of logs.”
“That’s true,” he agrees. “A good start, I guess.”
We grab our things and he unlocks the door and pushes it open, we peer in, half frightened.
It’s tiny, painted brown, and the inside is made of logs too, there are two couches that are made from different floral fabrics, checked curtains and a stone fireplace. The lamps don’t match and the kitchen is bright green with orange counters and a cracked stained-glass window.
“This is….” I shrug. “Nice.”
We exchange looks and both burst out laughing.
“For a horror movie,” he gasps.
“I was thinking that.” I laugh as I follow him in.
“Oh no.” He sighs as he looks around. “No, no, no….” He puts his hands onto his hips. “This isn’t good enough.” He stands looking into the kitchen. “This won’t do.”
With his back to me I slide my top over my head and take my bra off.
“I’ll call the real estate and try get something else.”
“Or we could just…stay.”
He turns back toward me and his breath catches in his throat as his eyes drop to my breasts.
I slide my skirt off and step out of it.
“I mean….” His eyebrows flick up. “That…could work.”
I push him back and he falls onto the couch, I unzip his jeans and drop to my knees between his legs. I spread them and his eyes flicker with arousal.
His cock springs free and I kiss the tip, pre-ejaculate beads on the end. I stroke him, softly at first and then harder.
He inhales sharply and cups my face in his hand and I take him into my mouth and slide down his shaft.
“Oh.” His head tips back. “Point taken, and noted on the record.”
“What is?” I murmur around him.
“Shit accommodation turns you on.”
I giggle and he grabs my hair and surges forward into my mouth. “Less laughing, more sucking.”
Orange flickers across his beautiful face.
True to his promise, Andrew dragged the mattress out and we’re sleeping in front of the fire.
We fucked hard and rough, had a shower, Andrew cooked us dinner and now, we’ve made love. Slowly and tenderly, and when it was over we kissed for a full fifteen minutes. There was no rush, there was no time limit.
Just lost in the moment.
Facing each other, we now lie in the dark, both deep in our own thoughts.
“Tell me about your wife,” I whisper.
He pauses for a moment. “Her name was Melissa.”
I smile softly. “Was she as lovely as you?”
“She was.” He nods.
“How does it feel to lose your great love?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t know,” he whispers.
My eyes search his.
“We were only together for eleven weeks when she fell pregnant.”
What?
“And seeing we only ever used condoms, we both saw it as a sign that it was meant to be.”
I listen intently.
“Up until she was pregnant we only saw each other once or twice a week.” He fiddles with my hair. “There was….” He pauses as if thinking. “There was no urgency to see each other.”
My eyes hold his.
“It wasn’t like….” He swallows the lump in his throat. “This.”
“Like what?” I whisper, confused.
“Like us.”
“Explain that to me.”
“When I’m away from you…. You’re all I think about, and I’m wishing the time away until I get to see you again.”
Like me.
“We moved in together and when she was six months pregnant we went through the motions and quietly got married in a registry office with just the two of us there.” His tongue slides over his lip as he thinks.
“And we loved each other but on reflection, it was more of a comfortable love. We were a family and we were going to make it work, regardless.”
“Regardless?”
“Of whether we were each other’s grand love or not.”
My heart sinks.
“Then she died…and I was so angry with her for leaving me all alone with them.”
Tears well in my eyes as the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place.
He reaches out and wipes my eye with his thumb. “It’s not sad for me, I got the greatest gift.”
I give him a weak smile.
“I’m sad for Melissa because she misses out on watching them grow up.”
My tears do break the dam this time and I wipe them away.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the tough one in this relationship?” He smirks. “There can’t be two of us weaklings.”
Relationship.
I nod, embarrassed. “I am.”
He pulls me closer and I roll onto my side facing away from him, he wraps me in his arms and kisses my temple. “Good night, my beautiful Mabel.”
I put my hand over my shoulder and cup his face. “You’re the only beautiful one around here.”
He kisses me over his shoulder and…my god, this man.
“Good night, Andrew.”
The gentle regulation of his breathing tells me that’s he’s asleep and as the fire glows and crackles in the distance, I lie in his arms and unpack our conversation.
I’m sad for him…but more than anything, I’m terrified for me.
ANDREW
“Yes.” I laugh as I spin Mabel around the dance floor.
Her long dark hair is loose, she’s makeup free and laughing out loud.
Looking as un-Madison Rothchild as you could ever imagine.
This woman has my heart in her hands, and I’ve come to the conclusion somewhere between a mountain trail and the second time we had sex in the shower today that she is undoubtedly the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met.
And it’s not even about her, or how she looks, or what she does.
It’s how she makes me feel.
Every smile she gives me drops my stomach; every touch sets my body on fire.
Our deep conversations, her dry sarcasm, the way I don’t impress her.
As conceited as this sounds, I go alright with women. I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected, but now that I’ve met Mabel, she has me questioning my entire knowledge of the opposite sex or what it means to be in a relationship.
I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.
Not truly.
Because what I’ve experienced in the past is a world away from these feelings.
I feel tethered to her, like an invisible rope has me dangling dangerously close to her heart.
We’re in a tiny bar on the outskirts of town, had way too much Mexican food, a gazillion margaritas, and we’re too drunk to care. It’s just the two of us on the dance floor and if ever there were a perfect day, today was it.
We slept in, we went hiking, and then this afternoon did a bar hop.
I scoop her up into my arms and hold her like a bride. “What are you doing?” She smiles up at me.
“I’m taking you home to do wicked things to your body.”
She laughs out loud, so wild and carefree. “You already did that today.”
“Well, guess what.” I kiss her big, beautiful lips. “I’m about to do it again.”
SUNDAY MORNING
I glance down at the address on my phone as I drive, it should be just up here somewhere, I’m assuming it’s the next property after this one.
I drive and drive and drive, behind a stone wall, pine trees line the road on both sides of the road. My eyes roam over them. Jeez, those trees are so old. Giant, and so perfectly trimmed into a hedge.
How the hell do they cut them so neat? That must be a full-time job for someone. “That gardener is on his game that’s for sure.” I keep driving and driving. “Where the fuck is this place?” I glance back at the map on my phone.
Two miles, destination is on the left
“Okay.”
Finally I arrive at sandstone fencing that leads down to a grand set of wrought-iron gates. Entwined in the iron is the name:
Chesterfield Manor
My eyes widen. “What the hell, this is it?” I turn into the driveway with my heart in my throat, I get to the security box and I push the button and wait.
“Hello,” a voice with an accent says.
“Hi. My name is Andrew Watson, I am here for an interview.”
I glance up and catch a camera turn toward the car, a red light is on and I imagine someone on the other end watching me.
“Come in,” the voice replies. “Drive through the gates and wait on the other side until they are closed to make sure nobody follows you in.”
What?