by Marni Mann
And they smelled of pee.
I didn’t remember when that had happened.
I didn’t want to.
I threw on a sweater and clean yoga pants along with a pair of running shoes, and I hurried downstairs.
When I reached the kitchen, I slung my purse over my shoulder, and in the entryway, I took the keys out of the bowl. As I opened the front door, I squeezed my body into the small space Rose wasn’t standing in, and then I shut it behind me.
Rose’s eyes wandered over me as though she were checking for wounds. “I’ve been ringing the doorbell for ten minutes.” She went down to the third step, so we weren’t standing so close.
“I didn’t hear it.”
The worry in her expression grew. “Alix, I’ve been calling you for the last twelve hours.”
“I didn’t hear my phone either.”
I glanced over her head at the street.
There were puddles everywhere.
But the sky was silent.
That was what mattered.
My gaze returned to her, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears.
“What have you been doing?”
“I was in the closet.”
She reached for my hand and led me to the end of the step. “Oh God.” Now that I was closer, her arms wrapped around me, and she pulled me against her. “That’s what I’ve been worried about,” she admitted. “Every time I got your voice mail, I saw you in that goddamn closet, and the knot in my stomach twisted a little tighter. I really wish you’d just give me a key already.”
I squeezed back, knowing a key to my house wasn’t something I’d ever give her. “I’m okay.”
“I almost called the police.”
“I would have killed you.”
“I know.” She sighed. “That was the only thing stopping me. I was going to give you another five minutes, and then I was hitting nine, one, one.”
“Please don’t ever do that to me, Rose.”
There would be a record of the call.
A thorough description of everything that happened at my house—the things discussed, anything that was witnessed.
There would be questions.
Suggestions.
I didn’t need that kind of attention.
Rose pulled away to look into my eyes. “Then, your ass had better answer my call next time.” Her hands clutched my shoulders, and her entire demeanor softened. She knew what happened to me during storms, so she knew answering my phone wasn’t even an option. Rose just wanted to protect me, and this was her way of trying to do that. “This one scared me, Alix.”
“It wasn’t any worse than the others.”
“It just lasted much longer.”
I hadn’t known that.
Time didn’t exist in the closet.
Her fingers found mine, and she climbed to my stair. “Let’s go inside and eat some ice cream. I know you have some.”
I stiffened. “I don’t have any,” I lied, breaking her grasp to move to the sidewalk. “But I am feeling a nice, long walk.”
“You want to go for one now? After everything you just went through?”
She was surprised.
She had every reason to be.
Because the last thing I wanted to do right now was leave the only place I felt comfortable.
So, I had to lie again and say, “You’ve got me craving ice cream.” I couldn’t even imagine putting anything in my mouth. “A giant sundae,” I added. “With extra hot fudge and a handful of cherries.”
“You’re making me want to drool.”
I smiled.
Relieved.
And I stuck out my hand for her to grab.
When her fingers clung to mine, I helped her down the rest of the steps and walked us over to the sidewalk.
We said nothing.
And then Rose broke the silence when we reached the end of the block. “What did you tell Smith?”
I turned toward her, putting my back to the Stop sign. “What do you mean?”
“You were supposed to go to Smith’s house for dinner tonight, so what excuse did you give him?”
Dinner.
Tonight.
Smith.
Fuck.
“You didn’t cancel with him, did you?”
“It started thundering and …” I was sure my expression said everything that I didn’t. I stared at the ground, wondering what he was thinking and what I would say to him. And then I slowly glanced up. “He was cooking for me.”
“You have to fix this.”
“I know,” I whispered, but I was almost positive no sound had come out at all.
Twenty-Nine
Dylan
Two Years and Three Months Ago
Alix had refused to call into work, so we didn’t go to Maine over the long weekend.
Because she’d been off for twelve hours, which was how long she spent in the guest room, and then she’d worked for two days straight, I had gone almost three days without hearing her voice.
But we texted nonstop.
And I could tell she was trying to respond to my messages as fast as she could.
She’d explained how having a cabin in Bar Harbor had been her dream since she was a kid.
I understood that.
A mansion in Lake Tahoe had been mine.
I’d gotten what I wanted.
There was no reason she shouldn’t either.
So, while she was working, I drove to Maine to view the pocket listing my realtor had contacted me about. The house was perfect, and I bought it.
Before I left Bar Harbor, I hired a property manager to turn it into a vacation rental once I had it fully furnished.
Over the last several months, the returns had been twenty percent higher than I had projected.
I was right.
It was one hell of an investment.
But that was all it would ever be because, once Alix got home from her shift, I called the realtor again and told her all about Alix’s dream. The following weekend, we flew up and looked at the listings she’d sent us.
Alix fell in love with the third house we saw.
It was a thousand square feet with two bedrooms and a single bathroom.
It didn’t have a dishwasher.
It wasn’t my taste at all.
But, as we stood on the back deck that overlooked the woods and a sliver of mountain—a view that wasn’t even comparable to the house I’d purchased—I could see how much she wanted this home.
She was gazing at me like I was the sunrise on top of Cadillac Mountain.
I turned to the realtor, who was just inside in the kitchen, and I told her we’d pay ten percent under asking price with a thirty-day close.
It was our best and final offer.
I made that clear.
Our offer was accepted two hours later.
Once we were handed the keys, we immediately started going there. With Alix not being able to take any significant time off, our travel extended well past the summer. Neither of us could get enough of that place, and we began flying up every other weekend, never staying longer than four nights.
We ate out every night we were there, dining at the highly rated restaurants around town. The days were spent outside. Sometimes, that meant just sitting on the porch for hours. Other days, we’d kayak or hike. When the snow came, we’d drive to Hermon to go skiing.
Within a few trips, we began to meet some of the locals. We exchanged numbers, and suddenly, we were getting invited to dinners and day hikes. We were even asked to go boating to Nova Scotia for a long weekend.
Maine was an escape.
A comfortable one.
But, soon, we were as busy there as we were in the city.
The biggest difference was neither of us worked much when we were away. I’d check emails a few times a day, return an important call.
Nothing more.
I didn’t even have a computer there.
When we were up north, Alix h
ad all of me.
And I had her.
One of the best times we spent there was during the first snowfall. Alix took the week off, giving us a few extra days to stay in the cabin. We skied during the first couple afternoons. On the third morning, we got up late, and Alix cooked breakfast. After we ate, we brought our coffees out on the porch.
It was cold as hell.
I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her, putting her sideways across my lap as I sat on one of the chairs. She leaned into my chest, the top of her head tucked underneath my chin.
It didn’t matter how hard the sun was shining; the air was far too brisk for the warmth to reach us.
Alix shivered beneath the blanket, and I squeezed her tighter, turning on the gas heater that was above the chair.
She ran her hand over my abs, sighing into my chest, and said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I wish there weren’t so much snow.”
“You don’t want to ski anymore?” I kissed the top of her head.
Alix was a hell of a skier, needing no direction whatsoever.
“No, I do. I love it. I’m just going to really miss our hikes.”
I leaned my head back to look at her face. “Who says we can’t hike in the snow?”
“We can; it’s just more dangerous, especially if there’s black ice hiding beneath.”
I wrapped a hand around her chin, turning it so that she looked at me. “I’ve yet to see anything hold you back. Don’t tell me the snow is going to be the first thing.”
“What if I said it was going to be the cold?”
I laughed. “Then, I’d know you were lying.”
Alix would have to be on the verge of hypothermia before she let me bring her inside. It didn’t matter how badly she was shivering; this girl loved the cold.
“Does that mean we’re climbing Cadillac tomorrow?” she asked.
My smile hadn’t faded. “Something tells me you knew where this conversation was headed, and this was your plan all along.” My lips disappeared into the side of her neck, two-day scruff rubbing over her skin. “You know it’s torture, getting up that early when I’m on vacation.”
She was ticklish and couldn’t keep quiet or still. “Dylan,” she said through laughter, “okay, okay, I’ll admit it; it was my plan all along.”
“You hustled me.” I pulled my face away, my lips now hovering inches in front of hers.
That goddamn look.
The one that was on her face.
The one I could never say no to.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “If we check the weather and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow, we’ll head to the mountain. If it’s supposed to be sunny, we’ll go for a hike.”
I already knew the weather. I’d checked it this morning after I went through my email.
“Deal.” I lifted her a little, so I could reach into my pocket and grab my phone. Once I had it, I held it in front of us and clicked on the Weather app.
“I was wishing for a sunny day,” I told her as she stared at the picture of the sun that was below tomorrow’s date.
Her gaze met mine. “Is that so?”
I nodded.
“I assumed you wanted to go skiing.”
“I do.” I slipped the phone back into my pocket and wrapped my arm around her. “But I can’t bet against a sunny day.”
“Why? Is that something special?”
I reached inside the blanket, my hand landing on the outside of her leg, slowly dragging it toward her inner thigh. “Before every flight, my copilot and I have to study the weather that we’ll be passing through. We learn to fly through everything. We train for it. But we always hope for sunny days. Those are the easiest, the safest, the ones with the least amount of concerns.”
“So, you never gamble against the sun?”
I shook my head, my fingers moving higher until I could feel the warmth of her pussy. “A smart man never bets against something beautiful.”
“That would be any sunny day.”
I kissed the side of her neck, my lips lowering until they reached her collarbone. “And you.”
She moaned, “Dylan …” as my hand slid underneath the waist of her yoga pants and cupped her pussy, my thumb brushing over her clit.
When her head tilted back, I kissed up her throat until my mouth was on hers. There, I gently bit her lower lip, releasing it to fill the space with my tongue. Once I did, I lifted her, twisting her fully around to straddle me. With the heater cranked up, it was warm enough to slide my sweatpants down my legs. Her pants came off next until there was nothing separating us.
I held her directly over my tip, the wetness from her pussy teasing my crown.
The blanket was gone.
She lifted her shirt from over her head and dropped it on the wooden deck.
Nothing was covering her perfect body.
And not a fucking soul could see it since trees were the only things surrounding us.
She lifted my hands off her hips and put them on the armrests of the chair. Her palms pressed against my chest as she positioned herself.
She was taking what she wanted.
I fucking loved when she did that.
When I could watch her grind over my cock.
Her hands left me, and she lowered until I was fully buried inside her.
“Fuck,” I moaned.
Her hips flexed.
Her pussy tightened.
I was going to watch her come.
And then it was going to be my turn.
This was better than any sunny day.
Thirty
Alix
Present Day
My eyelids flicked open.
My attention immediately went to the windows across from the bed.
I saw light sneaking in through the closed blinds.
It was a sunny day.
Thank God.
I glanced to my right.
Dylan’s pillow wasn’t dented.
The comforter didn’t even have a wrinkle in it.
He hadn’t come home.
When he didn’t show up last night after my walk with Rose, I was hoping I’d wake up to him. That I’d feel him before my eyes opened.
I hadn’t been that lucky.
At least it was sunny.
That was what mattered most right now.
I pushed myself out of bed and grabbed one of Dylan’s shirts off the corner of the chair. I slipped my arms through it, buttoned the middle three buttons, and went over to one of the windows, moving the slats a few inches to get a better look outside.
This was the same window I’d opened last night to speak to Rose.
A memory of me throwing up ice cream flashed in my brain. It’d happened right after I put Rose in a taxi about a block from my place. At least I’d kept it down while she was with me. My stomach just couldn’t handle any food after everything that had happened in the closet.
I hadn’t even been able to make it home before I puked in the side of a bush.
Like I was back in college.
Except there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in my body.
The sickness I’d felt was called life.
Now that I’d gotten some sleep, I felt even worse about what I’d done to Smith. I didn’t know how, but I had to make things right between us.
I walked over to my nightstand and got my phone, pulling up the last message I’d sent to him. I immediately started typing.
Me: I’m so terribly sorry about dinner. I feel awful for standing you up. Please let me make it up to you.
My finger hovered over Send.
I wanted so badly to press it.
But I couldn’t.
Texting was far too impersonal.
And it couldn’t deliver the kind of message I needed it to.
Especially after the texts he’d sent, the last one coming in well past the time I was supposed to show up at his house.
I found his name in my Contacts and listened to it ring once befor
e he picked up.
“Hi,” I said, not giving him a chance to speak. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you all right, Alix?”
The tone of his voice reminded me of the night in the alley.
“Yes, I’m fine. I …” I hadn’t planned what I was going to say. I had no speech. No excuses. So, I decided to just be honest. “I had a really horrible day yesterday. I wasn’t feeling very well, and I didn’t pay attention to the time. I should have called you, and I apologize that I didn’t.”
He didn’t even ask why I hadn’t shown up, so I knew I didn’t have to give him a reason. But he deserved some sort of explanation even if it wasn’t detailed at all.
“I was worried about you.”
Rose had said the same thing to me.
Now, I was hearing it from Smith.
My heart clenched.
My stomach did, too, and I wrapped an arm around it to try to ease the tension.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t want him—or anyone—to feel that way about me. Not now. God, especially not now. “It was so shitty of me, so, so shitty.”
“But you’re good now?”
“Yes.” I pressed a button on the tablet to open the blinds all the way. I took another look through them, eyes squinting from the sun, and said, “I’m fine. I promise.” When he didn’t respond, I added, “You need to know I’m not usually the disappearing type.”
“It didn’t feel like your style.”
My fingers were now on Dylan’s shirt, fidgeting with the buttons, popping one back and forth through the hole. “I want to see you.”
I’d said my thought out loud.
It hadn’t even sounded like me—not the tone or the words that came out.
But it was exactly how I felt.
It was what I’d been thinking of nonstop since he kissed me.
When he didn’t say anything, I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my hand over my thigh. “I fucked up, Smith, and I want to make this right. Let’s have dinner together. It’ll be on me this time.”
“You’re going to cook?”
He knew it was a weakness.
That was why I’d wanted him to teach me.
But that wasn’t the reason my heart was speeding up, sweat immediately soaking my palms. That was because I’d practically invited him to my townhouse.