Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Maren
I fell asleep after a late dinner.
I made myself a meal that consisted of scrambled eggs and fruit. I stopped to buy supplies at a store in Tupper Lake before I drove up to the cabin. The couple that runs the store recognized me from the visits I used to make with my parents.
A sense of nostalgia rushed through me as they talked about how happy we always looked on our way to our retreats.
I’ve always viewed my time here like that - a retreat.
It’s an escape from the stress of New York City and a chance to recharge and revaluate my life.
Sitting up in the bed, I hear the crunching sound of gravel.
That can only signal that a vehicle is making its way down the road that leads here and to a few other cabins.
I glance at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table.
It’s almost three a.m., so I’ve been asleep for more than four hours.
I swing my feet over the side of the bed. I let out a short, quick breath when I feel the coolness of the old wood floors on my toes.
Wrapping one of the thin white blankets on the bed around myself, I stand.
I didn’t consider how cold the nights get at this time of year when I was packing. I should have brought something warmer than a pair of yoga shorts and a T-shirt to sleep in.
I take a step toward the kitchen to get a glass of water when I hear a light tap on the front door. It’s the only door in and out of the cabin.
Fear grips me from the inside out.
I move fast, grasping in the dark for the baseball bat that my dad always kept hidden next to the bed.
He never needed it. The only people who stopped at the cabin were the neighbors. Their visits usually involved a campfire by the lake and cookies with mugs filled with hot chocolate or apple cider.
Another knock fills the silence.
I walk on shaking legs to the doorway of the bedroom. That gives me a clear line of sight to the door of the cabin, but it’s solid wood so I can’t see who is standing on the other side.
I inch closer, holding the bat in the air.
Another knock greets me.
I could pretend I’m not here, but that won’t scare away a would-be intruder, so I call out, “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
I stumble forward. Keats is here? How?
“Maren, please let me in. Please.”
I move to the door and turn the rusted lock. When I swing the door open, I have to blink twice. “You’re here? You came all this way?”
He smiles. “I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Maren. I love you.”
I stare at him with the moonlight falling on us. The sky is clear tonight. The air is perfectly crisp.
I took a step toward him when he said those three words.
Those three words.
I love you.
Keats loves me.
“Can we go inside?” He glances behind me at the open doorway of the cabin.
I look around. “How did you know where to find me? How did you get here?”
“Bianca,” he says her name quietly. “I ran into her in the lobby of your apartment building. She drew me a map, so I got my driver to bring me.”
I take that all in. Bianca wouldn’t have sent Keats to find me if she didn’t believe that it was the right thing to do.
She’s always protected me.
“I can drive.” Keats chuckles. “But, my hands have been shaking since I saw you tell me that you love me.”
I scrunch my brow. “What?”
“You were on my stoop the day we were supposed to host the Newmans for dinner.” He shakes his head. “The day I fucked up.”
“You swore,” I point out with a slight smile.
He nods. “My doorbell cam recorded you standing there, and I read your lips.”
“You read lips?”
His gaze stays on my face. “I do.”
I take a chance because isn’t that what life’s about? Aren’t we supposed to dive into the deep end and trust that good things are waiting for us when we surface?
“I love you,” I say silently without a sound escaping me.
He leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. “I love you too, Maren. I fucking love you.”