Ready to Fall (29 page)

Diane smiled at her. “Thanks. John’s been great after the accident. I’m in good hands.”

I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to my side.

“Well, we don’t want to interrupt any more than we have,” Gil said. “Have you considered getting curtains?”

I laughed and glanced at Maggie, then back at Gil. “Have you?”

Maggie swatted at my shoulder. “You’ve never had to see my naked ass running around in the middle of my living room.”

Busted. She had turned around again. Let her look, she had her chance. I raised my eyebrow at her and cocked my head.

“Okay, okay. New beach neighbors’ rule. No peeping in windows or coming over unannounced.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I’ve got nothing to hide,” I said with a big smile.

“We’re not turning this into some island version of a nudist colony or swingers’ beach,” Maggie said.

“Who said anything about swinging?” Gil bristled and gawped at Maggie.

I leaned over and whispered into Diane’s ear, “See? I told you we had nothing to worry about. She’s as crazy as we are. Probably more so.”

“I heard that,” Maggie said. “I’m not crazy.”

“Honey, you were talking about nudists and swingers. In front of your tenant, who happens to be John’s girlfriend, whom you’ve never met before.”

Maggie hung her head. “Hi, my name is Maggie and I suffer from word vomit.”

Diane smiled. “I think we’ll get along perfectly.”

“Let’s leave on a high note.” Gil grabbed Maggie’s hand and tugged her toward the stairs.

“Probably a good idea,” Maggie said.

Maggie said something about Quinn and chatting on the phone soon about logistics and return dates, but I lost myself in Diane’s scent while she stood beside me. It had been a big afternoon besides the surprise visit.

Big words.

Promises of the future.

A calm settled over me. Everything was different now.

I waved at Maggie and Gil when they left, but I’d zoned out on the last of the conversation.

“That went well. Ended better than expected, don’t you think?” I turned our bodies and strolled back toward the door.

“Sure. I’m happy it wasn’t my naked ass Maggie and Gil saw.”

“No one sees your naked ass except me.”

“Same goes for you. Maggie today was the last exception. No nudists and no swinging.” She frowned before shaking her head.

“Classic Maggie. She’s this amazing writer, but when she gets nervous, she can’t stop herself.”

“She acts fond of you. Should I be worried?”

“Did you see how she looks at Gil? And how he looks at her?” I stroked her hair.

“I did. They love each other.”

“Nothing to worry about, then.”

“It’s the same way you look at me, you know.”

I loved the confidence in her voice. “I know.”

Maggie called from the ferry to tell us she’d run into Dave on her way down the beach. His brother and family canceled their summer rental, leaving him with an empty place about four houses down the beach from mine—a perfect location for Diane.

Monday after work we walked down the road to see the house. After counting the steps between our houses, Diane made her mind up before we entered she’d take it. For a beach rental it was decently furnished, but she insisted Dave take away the mounted deer head above the brick fireplace. He offered to replace it with a ram’s head, missing the point all taxidermy was a no for her.

A summer rental would give her enough time to find a permanent place. With her divorce settlement, she said she could afford to buy a place. We hadn’t talked about how much money she was getting from the asshole, but she’d hinted it was a lot. She deserved every penny.

Now she had a place for the summer, Diane told me she’d be going back to New York for a week. At first I hated the idea. I worried the charm of hikes and fishing couldn’t hold up to the lifestyle of the city.

The insecurities I wouldn’t admit to out loud stirred again. She’d return home and decide she’d rather be there than stuck on an island with me.

“Why do you have to go back? Don’t you have friends who can ship your stuff?” My voice whined and I cringed. I sounded like a girl.

We sat on the couch in my house again, fully clothed this time. At least for now. Depended how this conversation went.

“Are you pouting? Big, bad boy John Day?” She poked me in the ribs.

“I’m not pouting.” I crossed my arms to protect my chest from her poking fingers.

“You are. It’s adorable. And annoying. As only you can be.”

“I’m not annoying. I don’t want you to leave. I’m greedy.”

“Is that all it is?” She ducked her head down to see my eyes.

“What else would it be?” I grumbled at her.

“Maybe something to do with your bad mood all week. You haven’t been this shut down since the camping trip.”

“I’m not shut down.”

“Sure. I promise I’m coming back.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“My return ticket would say different.”

“Tickets can be changed.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“John.” Her voice softened and she tucked herself against my side.

“Fine.” I exhaled through my mouth, then reached my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “I don’t want you to go back and decide you belong there.”

Her hand picked up mine and played with my fingers before she laced our hands together.

“When I arrived here in January, I didn’t know I’d stay. I planned to be here for a few months. Everything I own, all my clothes and stuff, is in storage back there. I need to look through it and decide what comes back with me. I won’t even see Kip.”

I grumbled some more, but inside felt better knowing she wouldn’t see the asshole. “At least you’ll be spared.”

“Lauren’s letting me stay with her. I’ll be spending my days at the storage facility sorting boxes. Not glamorous or exciting.”

“Can’t Lauren do it for you?”

“No. This is everything from college and after. An entire life squeezed into boxes and bags. Depressing, isn’t it?”

“I could come with you,” I said.

“You could, but you’d hate it. You know that.”

“I’d do it for you.”

“I know you would. Do you want to examine the excesses of my former life? All the silly shoes, last year’s must have fashions, and old pictures?”

“Sounds like hell.”

“Thought so.” She reached up and turned my face to hers. “We’re solid, right? You and me?”

I nodded and bent to brush my nose against hers.

“Let me try to understand your man brain. You think I’m going and never coming back?” Her lips touched mine, but when I tried to deepen the kiss, she retreated.

I shrugged at her observation, and willed her not to analyze it.

Studying my eyes, she furrowed her brows. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the couch. No grown man should be this messed up about something that happened over a decade ago. My breath quickened along with my pulse. I fought the instinct to run, to escape, to make it all fade away.

Her hand stroked across my brow and smoothed out the line between my eyes before moving down my face and over my jaw. A finger outlined my nose and the line of my lips.

I steadied my breathing, then opened my eyes. Diane stared at me. No, more than stared. Her gaze penetrated me as if she could see all the darkness inside.

“I’m not going to leave you. Not unless you tell me to.” She repeated the words I said after her accident.

“You can’t keep those promises. Things happen. People leave.”

“John.” Her legs straddled me and she wrapped her body around mine.

Slowly, I returned the embrace, burying my head in her shoulder. Breathing in her scent, I counted to fifty and willed the panic to leave me. She’d fly to New York and be back in a week. A week. Seven days. Six including travel.

Her voice sounded soft and soothing. “If you want, you can come with me. It might be fun. During the day while I work you could explore the city, then at night we’d be together.”

It was a nice offer, but the minute the words left her mouth, I knew I wouldn’t take her up on it. This wasn’t about trusting her. This moment, this point in my life, was about trusting myself. If I went, the demons and ghosts from my mother’s death would win. I had to let her go.

S
IX
DAYS
. O
NE
hundred sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand and eight minutes. More seconds than I knew.

It felt like forever.

Diane left the next Monday for New York.

The time difference sucked. She tried calling during the day when I was in the woods with no cell service. I’d call her at night and she’d be out with Lauren, or Quinn and Ryan, or other friends, shouting over the noise of a restaurant or bar because she couldn’t hear me.

We finally connected on Saturday, five days after she left and one before she’d be back.

Home.

One very long day before she returned home to me.

“Damn it’s early,” I mumbled into the phone, trying to find the alarm clock. “Why are you calling me at five on a Saturday?”

“Sorry. I missed your voice. Texting isn’t the same.”

“Are you calling for phone sex?” I rolled over onto my back and my morning wood tented against my boxers.

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You should have. Thought about it.” I yawned.

“I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

“I’m awake. And there’s a saying about wasting wood.”

“Wasting wood? Is that a timber saying?”

“No, wrong kind of wood.” I stroked myself.

“Oh,” she said and fell silent.

“Are you blushing?”

I pictured her cheeks heating and reddening.

“Maybe.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?” I asked.

“No. Have you?”

“I have.”

“I see. Well, unless you want Lauren to join in cause she’s sitting here next to me in the car, we might need a raincheck.”

I groaned and rolled to my stomach before immediately rolling back over. Her muffled voice carried out of the speaker.

“John? Hello? Damn island cell service.”

“You’re still there. Why are you laughing?”

I smiled. “I’m laughing because you sound like an island girl cursing at the bad cell reception.”

“I do?” she asked, her smile coming through her voice.

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve changed my flight. I finished up early and I’ll be home tonight. That’s the reason I called.”

I sat up in bed. “You are?”

“I am.”

“You said home, you know.”

“I know. It is home. It’s been great to see Lauren and everyone, but like you said, I’m an island girl now. I miss the fresh air and the green.” She lowered her voice. “I miss the smell of wet pine, earth and sea air.”

“You do?”

“I do. I miss you.” Her voice was low and sultry, barely above a whisper.

I groaned. “Fuck. You’re killing me. I miss you, too. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I would never tire of hearing her say those words. Before we got off the phone I scribbled down the information for her flight with a promise to meet her at the airport tonight.

My girl was coming home.