Chapter 24 Autumn
Autumn
By the time Friday gets here, Kory’s changed her mind about furniture shopping.
Switching the accent chairs from her bedroom and the living room was apparently enough of a change for now.
The change in plans works out for my mom, who has been trying to get me over for a couple of weeks.
I normally don’t like to go over before work, because it takes me further from the hospital, but I figured it’s about time.
“Mom, you didn’t have to do this,” I say in response to the full breakfast spread already on the counter.
“Oh, shush.” She says with a hug. “I couldn’t decide what to make, so I made it all. Let’s brunch.”
I can’t help but smile sitting here with her.
We haven’t said much since we sat down, but the grin on her face hasn’t left, despite rotating forkfuls of food.
Hanging out with my mom feels different now.
I don’t know if it’s just because of all the time we’ve missed, or because I’m an adult, but it feels nice.
It feels like I’m with a friend. I remember having dinner like this as a kid on the weekends.
We sat at the same table, in the same spots, just me and her.
Even before she and my dad separated, he worked a lot of the weekends, so it was us two.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, reading my mind.
“The times we used to do this when I was a kid. I don’t think you ever made this much food, though.”
She laughs. “I think you’re right. You might have to come back tomorrow and help me finish it.”
“I might be able to do that.”
“At least take some with you to work. Everyone loves breakfast for dinner.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Mom.”
Her smile mirrors mine, and I know we’re both equally filled with gratitude for this moment. “So, how’s everything going?”
“With what?” I ask, slightly fearful.
She shrugs. “I don’t know, with everything. Work, your new place, any new people I need to know about?”
I laugh, relief escaping. I don’t know how she would know, but for a second, I think she does. “Good, actually. I love my job. Most of the people are great. I love the apartment too, but no, no new people.”
“Not even neighbors? None of them cute?”
“No, Mom. Not even neighbors. I really haven’t seen anyone around there. It’s a really quiet place. That’s what I love about it.”
She gets up and starts clearing the table. “I guess if that’s what you like. It’s too quiet around here.”
“What can I say?” I join her in cleaning the kitchen. “You know I like my solitude.”
“You might change your mind if you meet someone.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s this boy at the market here, he’s real cute.”
“Mom.” I protest.
She gets my point and smiles, then turns the water on. I take this as my opportunity to end the conversation because she’s kind of right.
I want so badly to tell her about Jimmy.
I want to tell her how I would actually like to spend every minute with someone.
I want to tell her how good things really are right now.
But it’s a crap situation. I know my mom would be happy for me, but I don’t think a person with a wife is the cute boy she’s imagining for her daughter.
And now that I’m thinking about him, I miss him. I look at my calendar to see the next day I’ll see him. The hotel days are my favorite.
When we meet, one of us grabs lunch on the way there.
We eat together, then get lost in each other in the privacy of a room.
Inside those rooms, it feels so real. We don’t have to look over our shoulders.
We don’t have to be quiet. We don’t have to pretend we are just friends. We can just be us and be together.
I love those days, and I never want them to end. One in particular is my favorite so far: the day he almost told me he loved me. He didn’t, but I know he came close.
I was lying on the bed in a T-shirt and underwear, eating blueberries out of the package. He walked out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist.
I expected him to climb into the bed, but he didn’t. He just stood there staring at me, so I smiled and threw a blueberry at him. Incredibly, he caught it in his mouth. We both laughed, then he finally crawled onto the bed, hovering over me.
“Can I help you?” I asked while giggling.
“Nope. I just still can’t believe this is real. I missed you so much, you have no idea.”
“I think I do,” I responded and leaned up to kiss him, but he pulled back.
“Nope, not yet. I still have about six or so years of looking at you to catch up on.”
We both laughed, but then he got serious again. He ran his thumb along my jaw, then across my lips. We stared at each other for a few minutes before either of us said anything else. His eyes were hypnotizing, and I couldn’t look away.
That’s when I knew. I saw all I needed to see in the look in his eyes. Nothing else needed to be said.
“You know I’ve told you so many of the things that I love about you, but I don’t think I’ve ever included your face on that list.”
I laughed again. Why did he keep making me laugh in moments like this?
“I’m serious.” He protested. “You’re beautiful. And after all this time, I don’t think I’ve ever said that to you.”
And I was pretty sure he was right. I didn’t think he ever had either. There were plenty of times that he told me my outfit looked fine, or if we were dressed up, he’d say I looked good, but never has he said out loud that I’m beautiful.
“I don’t think so either,” I whisper. “Say it again.”
He smiled and kissed my shoulder. “You’re beautiful…” he kissed my collar bone, “And amazing…” he kissed my cheek, “And gorgeous…” he kissed my lips, “And perfect.”
I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he didn’t. He was staring again. I reached up and put my hand on his cheek, and he leaned into my palm, closing his eyes. “Autumn Harper, you’re the best person I’ve ever known.” He said.
I couldn’t take any more without crying, so I pulled him into a kiss, but that time I didn’t let him stop…
Inevitably, those lovely couple of hours had to end. I head to work, and he goes on with his life. Both of us counting down to the next chance we have with each other.
We rarely talk about Becca. Sometimes it feels like she isn’t real. I like to pretend that she isn’t. But then, occasionally, a reality check hits when there is an emergency phone call, or a story comes up during our lengthy conversations that reminds us both that she is very much real.
I can also tell when they have had an argument or are just not having a good day.
His mood will be off, and he’s very easy to read.
We are always able to fix it, but I can still tell.
It does make me wonder sometimes, and I think about asking him what’s going on with them, but I don’t.
Nothing else in the world matters when we are together.
Nothing else matters when he looks at me.
Nothing else matters at all anymore. Nothing except for him.
Something about him completes me, and at some point, that was enough to shatter my moral compass.