29

Thursday, 16 July

Day Twenty-five

When Esben woke, he was cold, more than he liked. The bedsheet was missing. He reached and found nothing but his fuzzy legs, his uncovered feet. Gooseflesh prickled across his body, and he shivered. It was chilly for a summer morning.

Behind him, quiet, steady breathing filled his ears, and for half a heartbeat he was confused. Slowly, he turned to his other side. His extra pillow, the one he used as a hugger, cushioned Kate’s head. And the sheet, he noted with amusement, was completely wrapped around her. He used his toes to bring up the heavier blanket and draped it over them.

As he set the blanket, he leaned into her, hovering. She had an interesting scent about her. Nothing unpleasant. Soap and sweat, earth, and what must have been coconut shampoo—she still used that. He was so close to her neck, tracing its slope with his eyes, wanting so badly to touch, to kiss her there. To feel the hills of her shoulder and hip, the slope of her thigh, and the valley of her waist. He wished, more now than ever, to have this allowance, the permission to touch her in that way. Would she think the same about him if he were the one sleeping, unwise to her gaze?

Kate snorted, making him jump. She was still asleep, except now she was on her back, snoring. Quiet, with loud rattles in the mix.

He held in a chuckle, then slid carefully out of the bed.

—

An unexpected scent filled Kate’s nose, sharp and earthy. This and loud birdsong roused her.

She was warm and snug, and she imagined Ben behind her. During the night, they’d separated, though she’d been in his arms, lulled by the beat of his heart. She’d half expected him to make a move and was disappointed when he didn’t. Maybe she should have, with her hand that she’d rested on his belly, wanting to slip it under his shirt, wanting to kiss him there. But she’d reminded herself of the vulnerability of the man. Of them both.

She looked behind her to find the bed empty, and realized to her mild horror that she’d stolen the top sheet and burritoed herself gradually by rolling to and fro.

Nikki left me for stealing the blankets.

At the opposite end of the trailer sat Ben, gazing out the window, golden in the morning light, red hair aflame. Earbuds in, oblivious to her waking. Cozy in his navy bathrobe, open and draped at the sides, showing off his thick thighs not covered by boxer briefs. He sipped from his new bear mug what must’ve been freshly brewed coffee.

Her heart warmed at the sight of him, hunched over with not-so-perfect posture, bobbing his head ever so slightly, enjoying music while letting her sleep. She picked up her phone, brought up the camera, and captured the scene. The result—the light, the contrast, the man—was picturesque. She wanted to frame that photo.

A second later, Ben turned her way, mid-sip. He paused, mug held before his face, before taking out his earbuds and standing.

“Hei,” he called, voice deep and gentle.

She smiled. “Hi.”

“There’s coffee.” He pointed at a half-full small carafe. “My coffee, not house coffee.”

“Hoarding the good stuff, are we?”

He smiled.

His boxer briefs, Kate realized in the light of day, were Star Wars themed: Death Stars and Vader helmets interspersed with lightsabers.

—

Bed-fresh, Esben called it, how Kate looked upon waking. She didn’t seem to care about her appearance as they drank their coffees, a half-hour yet until breakfast.

He liked the way she looked.

“Thank you,” he said, “for staying.”

“You were in a bit of a state. We both were.”

“I hope it wasn’t overwhelming. All of the…issues.”

“Why would it be?” She reached for his robe belt strap and ran her fingers down its length, pulling lightly, not enough to open the weak knot he had tied.

“It might have been,” he said. “Too much for you to handle.”

“You’re not too much, Ben.” Her soft smile faded. “Am I? Too much?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Her fingers dragged to the end of the fabric belt, letting it fall with a silent flop. She sipped her coffee. He sipped his.

“It’s good,” she said. “The coffee.”

“From a company in St. John’s. Fair trade.”

“Even better.”

He smiled. “You seem to have slept well.”

“I did. You?”

“Yes.” Then, attempting to maintain a straight face, he added, “You did not snore at all.”

After a few seconds of a confused stare, Kate grinned and shook her head, then swigged the last of her coffee. “I, um…” She eyed his waist, tugged his robe sleeve. “I took a photo of you.”

“Hm? When?”

“When I woke up. When you were sitting, looking outside.”

The sunlight breaking in through the side of a shaded window brought out the green segments in Kate’s otherwise brown eyes. They reminded him of a forest floor.

“I feel bad about, you know, photographing you in your pajamas without your consent. But I needed to capture how amazing you looked.”

He almost laughed. Amazing? Was she joking? “As long as it stays on your phone.”

She frowned. “You don’t wanna see it?”

Esben swallowed his nerves, but before he could answer, she showed him the photo. From the bed, she had photographed him on the little bench, staring out the window, mug held before his beard, his robe turning him into a big blue lump. What she found amazing about that was beyond his comprehension.

She pulled the phone away from him and smiled at the screen. “I’ll send it to you later.”

He held back a grimace. “If you want.”

Kate tipped up on her toes. “I should go get ready.”

In an unexpected move, she leaned in close to him while again tugging at his bathrobe. Her cheek grazed his, and then she kissed him there, lingering. A heartbeat, an hour, a millennium. His hand fell upon her shoulder, if for nothing else than to steady himself.

Nuzzling him with her cheek, she said, “Happy birthday, Ben.” She took a step back. “I hope it was a good day, despite…”

Esben tried to speak but found himself incapable.

She clutched his hand and, as she stepped away, pulled their arms taut between them. Their fingers hooked briefly before they were forced to set each other free.