Chapter 5 #2
The Grand Hotel was as extravagant as the White House.
The all-white building had huge columns and a sprawling porch that offered sweeping views of the lake and the iconic Mackinac Bridge in the distance.
The rocking chairs provided a place to relax and take in the beauty of it all.
She recalled the gentle breeze forcing the strategically placed American flags to curl left and right.
The scent of the surrounding flowers, and the sound of the horse-drawn carriages manoeuvring along the cobbled streets. She had felt so alive.
A sense of peace washed over her. She already knew she’d fallen in love with Ariana—that was as apparent as the sky was blue—but there was something in the way they watched the horizon together, the way they so comfortably sat in silence, the smooth fingers of Ariana’s outstretched hand toying with the nape of her neck.
It was more than just the physicality of their nerve endings causing the sensitivity—the touch of her hand, the smell of her skin, the echo of her laugh.
Leah was at peace because, above all else, she saw her future with Ariana.
It was on those rocking chairs that they playfully discussed their ideal retirement plans. They joked about matching walking sticks, hand-knitted cardigans, and feeding each other fudge until their dentures fell into their laps.
It was a hopeful, fun-natured conversation between two individuals who were at the height of their emotional connection.
The problem? Leah now had this idea of what it was like to retire with the woman she loved.
She pictured it in her mind on days when daydreaming from her apartment window was all she could seem to do.
She saw versions of that future in magazines, on park benches, in coffee shops, on TV programmes.
Every element of the world that was even the tiniest bit romanticised reminded her of that future.
Which sucked.
Ariana placed another piece of fudge in her mouth. “Once you start—” she mumbled.
“Have you had it since we went to Mackinac?” Leah asked, curious if she’d returned in their five-year absence from each other’s lives.
Ariana shook her head. “I did order some though, a couple of years ago. Hannah . . .” She stopped the conversation dead.
“You can talk about Hannah,” Leah smiled.
“Sorry, I just don’t like to make things uncomfortable or anything,” Ariana admitted.
“Sweety—” It was somewhat patronising, and she knew it the moment the word left her lips.
She’d never once called Ariana sweety. “We broke up over five years ago, it’s very egotistical of you to assume I still care.
” Leah jested, but the joke didn’t land.
Ariana’s smile faded. She tried to cover it by packing another piece of fudge into her mouth, but it was too late.
“Hannah wanted to try it,” Ariana finished.
“Did she like it?” Leah asked, out of politeness.
Ariana nodded. “It’s hard not to like it.”
There was no attention drawn to the fact that Ariana was so casually eating from the fork Leah had used moments before.
They’d shared saliva—amongst other bodily fluids—for over two years, so Leah didn’t shiver at the thought like she would if it were anyone else slowly clamping their lips around the metal object. But still, it felt too intimate now.
“Why didn’t you go for lunch?” Leah asked, curious.
“I got a headache, so I went to lie down.”
A follow-up question would’ve been appropriate, but Leah knew Ariana.
She knew that her headaches were intermittent.
She didn’t suffer from migraines to the extent others did—there was no crippling pain or dark room necessary—but stress and anxiety brought on a shorter, less intense version.
Leah knew from experience that it soon passed.
Leah walked over to the freezer, pulled an ice pack from the top drawer, and wrapped it in a kitchen towel.
“Here.” She placed the cold compress on Ariana’s neck. The tingling sensation from the ice pack was immediately dominated by the goosepimple sensation Leah felt when Ariana touched her hand to hold the compress in place.
“Thank you,” she acknowledged.
Leah hit the small plastic lever on the kettle, which brought it to life. A few moments later, she placed a stylish blue mug, with the cutest brown rustic design, next to Ariana’s fudge-wielding hand.
“Drink this,” Leah smiled.
“You remembered,” Ariana smiled softly.
“Of course.”
There was no forgetting. She was well aware of the remedies for Ariana’s episodes.
A cold compress helped dull the ache. Warm showers or baths for the more severe, stress-induced episodes—but that would be deemed inappropriate now.
A hit of caffeine would usually bring her back to life.
Simple things. The part where she used to sit and kiss her forehead until it disappeared was not on the menu anymore.
“Mmm, this is so good,” Ariana expressed.
“At least I won’t get into trouble for eating it now,” Leah laughed.
“Why would you get into trouble?” She craned her neck.
“I don’t think it’s particularly kosher for the unwanted, unpaying guest to eat the fudge.”
“What makes you think I paid?” Ariana smirked. “When your father tries to make up for his abysmal choice in women, he pays for the annual family trip, and you don’t question it. If I had a choice, I would be back in New York.”
Ariana loved her parents, but there was a big difference in their personalities.
Her mom took the time after their divorce to find herself—to build foundations on her own as a single parent, to understand what her purpose was now that she was no longer a wife.
And she did. Ultimately, that led to her finding her second husband five years later, and it all started to make sense.
Steven, on the other hand, ran headfirst into a relationship with a blonde ten years his junior and ignored every red flag she presented on day one and beyond.
Steven was well aware of Ariana and her siblings’ dislike of his new wife, but he chose to remain oblivious, as though she would somehow become a better person—or Ariana would grow bored of disliking her. Neither had transpired.
“Oh, so we’re both freeloaders then? That makes me feel better,” Leah joked.
“Either way, you have just as much right to be here as I do. Between our past and your cult-like devotion to my sister, you’re practically part of the family.” Ariana adjusted her neck so the ice pack would stay in place while she sampled another flavour.
“Cult-like,” Leah laughed. “Thank you, for making me feel welcome.”
“You’re always welcome.”
Ariana said it with a sincerity Leah hadn’t witnessed in a long time.
Her green eyes caught the ray of light bursting through the kitchen windows—they shimmered so brightly that Leah couldn’t help but stare.
She reached for her cup of coffee, the small scar on her upper right lip visible as she pressed her mouth to the edge of the rim.
Leah had the urge to reach out and touch it, but she didn’t.
Ariana exhaled. “This is great coffee.”
“I learnt from the best.”
There was a moment of silence. Their eyes avoided each other. The air became heavy. It was hard for Leah—to be in her presence, to remember the way they used to be together, the way they used to laugh and talk for hours on end—but now, she didn’t know what to say.
Ariana fidgeted with the handle of her coffee cup, her eyes flicking between the box of fudge and Leah.
She so desperately wanted to remove all the tension from their relationship so they could move forward with a newfound understanding, but she couldn’t find the right words to help ease the transition.
Finally, Ariana broke the silence. “Try this.”
Ariana cut a small piece of the Chocolate Walnut Fudge and held it out toward Leah.
She leaned forward, allowing Ariana to bridge the gap between them.
There was a teasing glint in her eye as she slowly moved the fork towards Leah’s parted lips.
The rich, chocolatey flavour melted on her tongue; a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as Ariana slowly removed the fork.
The small gesture seemed to break through the awkward tension between them.
The intimate silence was disturbed when Grace pushed through the front door, stroller first, with a suspicious look on her face.