It’s past noon when my flight lands in Raleigh. There was one of those mysterious parts problems that delayed the plane leaving from Cleveland. The early departure time I got up and checked out of my hotel at four A.M. for. I could have slept in. At least until a rational hour like seven. I could have had a real breakfast instead of trying to find the most palatable shelf-safe muffin in the tiny airport bookstore. Those ones that are oddly soft inside the crinkly cellophane package, and yet the expiration date is over two years out? What the fuck am I putting in my body?
Oh God, now I sound like Aiden. I haven’t heard anything more from him since he asked me to check-in. Maybe he’s already erased me from his memory. Out of sight, out of mind. I wish I could be that lucky. My entire body remembers his touch vividly, and it misses him badly. It’s almost like he’s a magnetic force, and I’ve moved too far outside of it for my own good.
Although if I’m completely honest, I was missing him before I left the cabin. I haven’t even tried to have an orgasm without him. I’m not sure why, but I think I’m convinced it would be vastly inferior, and the immediate contrast would show me in painful detail exactly what I’ve lost.
I had to practically tie myself down not to creep down the ladder in the cabin and ask him for one last time. He’d have done that for me, I’m pretty sure. His parameter was always the time we were together at the cabin. I’m the one that drew the line across our relationship before that. It was the right thing to do. I think.
Fuck. I miss him. I wonder how many years are going to have to go by before he’s willing to be in the same space with me again. Without surprising him, because I’m not quite that cruel. Either to him or to myself.
In any event, here I am in the heart of North Carolina renting a car because I didn’t want Ing trying to come all the way into the city only to have to turn around again.
The drive out to the coast is beautiful, but I’m thankful the rental car has working air conditioning. I’m excited to see Ingrid again. It’s only been a month since we last saw each other, but it feels like a decade has passed. I’m tired from all the crowds in airports. After three weeks alone in the woods with only one other person, the hundreds of people streaming to and fro are jarring to all my senses. I liked the quiet of the cabin, not having to worry about who was watching us or listening in.
I carefully follow all the directions Ing gave me and pull up behind the cutest lavender cottage I have ever seen in my life. There’s a beautiful cottage garden with pink and white flowers blooming in the — front? The side of the cottage not facing the ocean — and it boasts white shutters and a deep white plank porch that goes all the way around.
Ing comes running out and practically hauls me off my feet. “Rosey! You made it!”
I laugh and hug her back, “I’m here. In one piece.”
“The Commander?” she asks quietly.
I roll my eyes, “Prefers to live a life of lonely solitude or some such shit. But he, um…” I’m blushing hard.
“Oh!” She tugs me towards the cottage, “We need wine.”
I pull free to grab my bags and we head inside, laughing and catching up. The middle-age nondescript man two doors down who’s been staring at me doesn’t escape my attention, but I don’t mention him to Ing until we’re well inside the little cottage. “So who’s your weird neighbor? The yellow place?”
“Oh, that’s Fred. He’s one of Justin’s flunkies.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked him.”
I gape at Ing and she just shrugs, “He was watching and following me but not being extra creepy about it so I finally went up to him and asked him what his deal was. He gave me his credentials, and I confirmed them independently. Even went to the local cops, but since he’s not stalking me or threatening me and he’s licensed, there’s not too much I can do. I could leave but then I’ll just have new flunkies I have to research. So I figure the devil I know is better than the one I don’t. Besides, I kind of have fun messing with Justin this way. I’m planning on inviting some of the surfer dudes I met at the beach over. For a sleepover.” She winks dramatically.
“Ing! Seriously?”
“Well, sort of. I already explained it to them so they know it’s not an actual orgy on offer.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Who, Justin? No. He sent me a letter via Fred.”
“An actual old-fashioned letter? Typed or handwritten?”
“Typed. His handwriting is shit, and he knows it.”
“What did he say?” And I thought my thing with Aiden was weird.
“That he was worried about me, wanted me back in New York where he could keep an eye on me, blah blah, that I couldn’t draw on my trust fund otherwise.”
“So he still doesn’t know…?”
“That I have an income through you? I don’t think so, although he must have someone figuring out how I paid for this place. I think he’s trying to wait me out. Lure me back when I run out of funds, but he didn’t come right out and say it.”
“What about Margot? Is she still…”
“Don’t know, don’t care. At least I’m not there to have my nose rubbed in it.” Oh, she cares all right, but I’m not the mean girl that’s going to point out the obvious.
“Right. Well, what’s good for dinner around here? Can I take you out?”
“Of course! There’s a fabulous place three blocks down, we don’t even have to drive.”
“Perfect. Let me grab a shower and change and I’m all yours.”