42. Who does this?
Forty-Two
WHO DOES THIS?
Liv
“You have that post-sex glow. So let me be the first to say, welcome back to the land of the living, Liv Weston! Your vagina is free from its prison, and I hope it’s wildly satisfied!” Viv announces, following me into my room. “I want details, please and thank you.”
I snort, pouring food into Sunny's bowl while he curls around my ankles.
“Sunny was okay in your room last night?”
“No. Absolutely not. You will not get out of telling me this!” She flops on my bed, still made from the day before.
“Okay, okay. All I’m going to say is we had incredible, mind-blowing sex last night twice… and then again this morning. Needless to say, yes, I am wildly satisfied.”
“Eeeeeeek! YES!” she squeals, leaping to her feet and throwing her arms around me. “Solid vacation win, girlfriend.” She releases me and wanders to the dresser, picking up my perfume and holding it to her nose.
“We have paint and sip tonight at six, right? So what do you say we keep it a low-key day? We can grab some brunch, come back here and relax for the afternoon, then head out for a light early dinner and then finish at the paint and sip,” I say.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll go get changed,” she says, capping the perfume bottle.
“I just need to get cleaned up—”
“Oh, I bet you do.” She wiggles her eyebrows and gives my shoulder a pat as she walks out. “Text me when you’re ready.”
An obsidian butterfly with iridescent blue on the tips of its wings floats around the rosebush on the side of my patio. I watch it flutter haphazardly from flower to flower while I sway back and forth in the rocking chair.
My quick check on all things Liv + Viv confirms that all is well and being taken care of. I make a promise to myself not to check again until I’m back in my apartment on Sunday.
So now here I am, on the last chapter of my book, trying to read as fast as I can, knowing Fran is itching for me to begin the book she left me and simultaneously feeling the need to leave her with a book of my own.
But every romantic scene I’ve read today has brought me back to Luke, back to last night, this morning, and every other moment he and I have shared this week.
It’s dangerous to be thinking about him so much.
I stare off at everything and nothing happening on the lake. A boat just outside the cove sends a series of rolling waves lapping against the dock posts; fish pop up snatching bugs from the surface, and various birds go about their day, preening their feathers, paddling, diving for food.
As the clouds move through the sky, the sun's rays dance across the surface, highlighting every ripple, the water sparkling. I wonder if people who live here all year round stop noticing how beautiful it is, or if they still see it every day. There are sounds and sights in the city I don’t notice anymore.
Maybe life on a lake is the same way. Although I’d like to think I’d never stop seeing this kind of beauty.
And the people—so friendly and open. They make you feel you’re a part of the town even though you’re just a passerby. It’s amazing, really. I’ll miss that when we go back on Sunday, though I have a feeling we’ve made an actual friend in Rachel. Fran too, I hope.
And then there’s Holly and the light in her eyes as she learns how to market the bed-and-breakfast on social media. She could have a future in the field if she wanted to. Maybe I’ll talk to Viv about offering her an internship and some part-time remote work.
What am I doing?
Who does this? Who goes away for ten days and plants seeds, as if there’s a way to make them grow into roots even though I live hours upon hours away? This is a vacation. I’m not building a new life.
What am I thinking?
I have to admit, though, Pop was right. Getting away was exactly what I needed. Something about the peace of the lake, the quiet of the breeze, and the sounds of nature has kept me anchored in the present, not stressed about the future or the decisions of the past. It’s refreshing.
I guess I can only hope that when I get home, I’m able to hold on to some of the peace I’ve found here.
I suck in a breath through my nose, my chest expanding and shoulders rising, then release it in a long slow exhale. I need to finish this book before Fran has a heart attack at how slowly I’m reading.