47. Maggie
47
maggie
“I can’t keep staying at your house in the guest room.” I’d been sneaking back home to feed the wall for the last couple of days. The exterminators are due soon.”
“You can as long as I get to have you in the middle of the night.” He smacks my ass, and that’s all it takes. He could bend me over any surface in the open-air market right now if he wanted.
“We are playing a dangerous game. I’m going to a hotel tonight until they’re done with the house.”
He nods. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to fuck you raw and sneak out in the middle of the night, you know. Hope that hotel is close to my house.”
I squeeze his shoulders and say, “I’ll do the sneaking so you don’t have to worry.”
He kisses my cheek and says, “Nah. I’m tired of you being quiet. I need you to rattle the shudders as you come. I need hotel sex.”
I laugh and he begins negotiating the price of tomatoes in Italian. I’m getting every other word, but the longer I’m here the more I understand. The sun is playing off the blonder streaks in his hair. I brush my hand down his arm, and he looks at me and smiles.
“Onions too,” I say and he nods, turning back to the vendor. I look around the piazza and try to envision what my life looked like a year ago and I can’t. I don’t see anything beyond the ancient stones, buildings and feelings here. Everyone cares deeply about not just their produce, but the people they’re talking to. The man is bagging up our items, and Colt leans toward me and kisses me sweetly.
“Where’s the flip side of all I’m feeling?”
“Let me get this straight. And for the record in the past, that would have been a very long ramble.”
“I’m tired. Someone kept me very busy today. I missed my nap.” He squeezes my fingers.
“You’re very happy, but you’re ruining it by thinking about why you’re not sadder? You’re sabotaging the joy waiting for the despair? Did I get that right?”
I exhale and pick at the sloppy sister’s olive oil soap. I sold them a lot of lemons, and they have never given me a bar of soap as a thank you. The kid manning the stand picks up a bar and hands it to me, so I’ll stop playing with the display.
I turn to him and hold it up to his nose. It smells so much like the area. Cyprus and rosemary almost. “Aren’t you doing that too?”
He says with a small voice, “Yes, but I’m trying not to.”
I put the soap down and pay the kid for three bars then shove their paper bag in with our other things. “Take two to the girls. I’m sure they’re running low.”
He whirls me into his arms. “Let’s do this.”
“What?”
“This. We keep talking about forever or how this is perfect or how lucky we are to find each other again. Fuck all that. Let’s just do this.”
I spin in his arms, looking around for what he’s gesturing to. “This? You want a farmer’s market booth? I’m confused.” He laughs.
“You do have enough lemons for a booth. No. Let’s just be happy being together. Let’s be together. Let’s figure out a way to tell the girls. Then we can simply live a life without worry.”
“Ha!” I push him away a bit.
“Without the worry of knowing who will be by my side. We can start there. The rest of the labels, and longevity can work itself out.”
I extend my hand. “Deal.”
“Wanna bet on it?” I laugh very hard at him, and then we stroll along through the market. Doing just that, being with each other. I’m not sure I’ve ever had more joy and sadness in my life. Always seemed to be evenly balanced or tipped in the bad way but right now, I’m definitely more joy than anything else.