Riley
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I slept past sunrise.
Sleep came far easier than I thought it would when I climbed into bed last night. Probably because Felix’s bed is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. And the smell? It smells like fresh air, forest, and something else I can’t quite name.
Turning toward the light haloing the blind on the window, I listen to the birds outside. Their song puts a big smile on my face. Glancing around the room, I see the door is open, the living space beyond empty of the man whose bed I’m lying in. Other than the chirping birds, the morning is quiet.
I wonder where Felix is. Is he still asleep in his office? Working already?
I never thought to ask what he does for a job or during the day. I know he doesn’t leave his property, and he mentioned an office but not what it’s for. For all the talking we did last night, we didn’t really give details of our everyday lives. Who we are.
I’ll fix that today. If I’m going to stay here taking advantage of his kindness, I need to make myself useful. Productive. I can clean and cook and tend the fire. Even chop the wood if necessary.
Throwing back the covers, I swing my legs over the side of the comfy mattress and wiggle my butt forward until my feet touch the floor. His bed isn’t just softer than the one I had, it’s higher. It’s probably three times as big too.
Searching for the hoodie I laid out last night, I find it neatly folded on the bedside drawers, a note placed on top.
Riley,
I’m outside checking the woodpile. There is a bigger storm coming in behind last night’s and we’ll get the first snow of the season over the next few days so I need to make sure we’ve got enough firewood.
Your breakfast is keeping warm in the oven and if you like coffee, the pot on the stove is fresh this morning.
Felix
Smiling, I shrug into my hoodie and leave the bedroom, making my way to the bathroom. A quick glance at the fire has me detouring to the fireplace instead. Felix must have kept it going all night because it’s still burning bright this morning. Then again, maybe he added logs before going outside.
Satisfied I don’t need to add more, I turn around and almost bump into the armchair that looks so soft I want to fall into it and never get up. I can’t wait to take advantage of it. I frown. If I’m here long enough to enjoy it.
My bladder snags my attention when it reminds me I need to use the bathroom and I head that way before my thoughts can spiral down that depressing path and ruin my day.
Business taken care of, I wash my hands and face before going to the kitchen.
Laid out neatly on the counter are a plate and utensils I assume are meant for me. Just that small amount of care shows me how kind Felix is; he’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met. Skirting the counter, I wonder what Felix made for breakfast.
A delicious smell hits me as soon as I open the over door. Inside is some sort of casserole. Eggs, veg, meat. Baked to golden perfection, my mouth waters just looking at it.
Serving myself a portion, I put the baking dish on top of the stove to let it cool so I can put the leftovers away after I eat. Eyeing the stool, I think about the chair by the fire. It’s too tempting and while I know I shouldn’t eat over there, I can’t help myself.
It feels a little rebellious to even think about doing it because Aunt Bethany never allows us to eat anywhere except the dining room table.
But there is no dining room here, never mind a table. Just two stools at the counter. And I don’t think Felix is as fussy about his furniture as my aunt is—was. I need to remember she’s no longer here to force her ideas of proper behavior on me.
Just in case, I duck into the bathroom and grab the towel I used last night before taking a seat. I spread it over my lap and put my plate on top. That way if I spill anything, it will land on the towel, and I can take it outside and shake it off.
Settled in front of the warm fire, I take my first bite of food. It tastes as good as it looks and smells, and I can’t help wondering who taught Felix to cook. He hasn’t mentioned parents, only his uncle, but maybe there was an aunt at some point.
If I was staying here long term, I’d ask all the questions swirling in my head. I might ask a few before I go…
The idea of leaving turns the food in my mouth tasteless. Swallowing my mouthful, I stare into the fire and try to imagine where I might go, what I might do, if—when—I leave. As much as I like the idea of staying, I have to remember I can’t.
Except I have no relatives other than Warren. I have no home. And while I have money, it isn’t a lot. I don’t know what it costs to buy a house, or even rent one, but I know I don’t have enough for either option.
Maybe Warren’s right.
The only thing I’m capable of is being a live-in housekeeper.
Do many people have housekeepers?
I hate that I don’t know the answer to that question.
Hate it even more that the one thing in my life I want to give up is the one thing I can’t.
Maybe I should marry Felix like he expected. He’s not unappealing. Just looking at him has my insides coiling and heating in ways I’ve never experienced, but the way he treats me? Like I matter? That has my chest tightening in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
No one has ever treated me with the kindness Felix does.
This time yesterday I had no idea he existed.
Had no idea this little sanctuary in the mountains existed.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve fallen in love with a place beyond my imagination.
Being out here with a stranger should be frightening.
It isn’t.
I should want to find a way out of here as fast as I can.
I don’t.
The last thing I want is to leave. I feel safe here. I’m not on edge waiting for my aunt to yell at me or Warren to show up and call me names. I might not want to leave, but I don’t know if I can marry Felix either. And he wants a wife.
Why else would he be on Get Hitched if not to find a wife?
Would being married be so bad? I don’t know.
I don’t have anything to go off. Aunt Bethany’s husband died years before I moved in with her and I’ve never met Warren’s wife, only seen photos of her and their children.
I think I understand what a good marriage should be like, and maybe Felix and I can have one even if we don’t love each other.
I shouldn’t be considering it. I know I’m ignoring the outside world because I have no place to go, no one to turn to for help and I’m probably stupid for hoping a stranger might take care of me, might give me help—support me—so I can finally do what I want.
Surprisingly, what I want isn’t to leave Winter Lake. I like the town I grew up in even though I spent most of it inside my aunt’s house. I like this mountain sanctuary even more. And I really like the man who opened his door and let me stay in his bed when he didn’t have to.
But if I want to stay a little longer, enjoy this respite from life and all the things I need to figure out, I should make myself useful beyond helping him eat his food. I should make it so he wants me to stay.
Polishing off the last of my breakfast, I set the plate by my feet then carefully fold the towel so no crumbs fall on the chair or floor. Standing up, I walk over to the door and put the bundled towel down before collecting my plate and taking it to the kitchen.
It doesn’t take long to pack the leftovers away and put them in the fridge. Next I fill the sink with soapy water. Felix isn’t a messy cook and I’ve got the dishes washed, dried, and put away in no time. I glance around to check nothing else needs cleaning before pulling the plug.
A quick sweep through the cabin and I’ve tidied up, straightened pillows, and neatly folded a blanket. With nothing else to do, I head back to the bedroom to get dressed for the day. I’ll need to wear layers so I can go outside and help Felix.
Even if the only thing I can do is carry some logs inside, I’m determined to be useful and help him prepare for the coming storm.