by Mimi Flood
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
Devon had kept his word, at least. Throughout the weeks, our communications were rare and usually only focused on financial spreadsheets he was nice enough to walk me through. Nothing major had happened or needed to be decided, so he didn’t need to contact me more than necessary.
It became clear to me that the entire world of business was well above my pay grade and I was glad that I had left it in Devon’s capable hands. The way I saw it, so long as our email exchanges remained silent, I assumed the business was running smoothly and that meant I wouldn’t need to do much if anything at all.
Still, I constantly felt like I was dropping the ball. I imagined I wasn’t exactly living up to my grandmother’s expectations. I doubted my decision, thinking I should be working alongside Devon, after all, taking a little more responsibility.
In hopes of figuring out how to be an entrepreneur in the quickest time possible, I checked out some books from the library—mainly Business for Dummies-type books—which led me to enrol in a business night class. It was much tougher than I had imagined, but I knew I needed to do it if only to understand a little more of what I was responsible for. But it was all so very, very boring.
I was in the middle of reading a chapter about the relationship between marketing and sales, forcing my eyes to stay open, when my phone rang. It was my mom. I rolled my eyes, putting the book down. It seemed like she was calling me quite a bit these days. Though this newfound closeness between her and I was something I hadn’t known I was missing, a part of me hated the emotions our conversations would inevitably bring up.
Also, it seemed like all we ever talked about lately was her plans for my grandmother’s house. My parents had decided to turn Dolores’ home into a bed and breakfast, something that was strangely lacking in Frelighsburg. The town’s popularity was growing among tourists and there was definitely a market for it. Surprisingly to me, my parents had asked Valerie to help out and be the manager once it was open.
“It’s so much work but it will be well worth it,” my mother said, and I could hear the joy in her voice. “Maybe you could come and see it, once we’re all done. You know, before the wedding.”
Ah, the wedding. A few days prior, I had received an invitation in the mail—cream-coloured and rimmed in gold—to Brian and Mark’s wedding in September. It had a rushed look to it as if they had decided to invite me as a courtesy more than anything, so I had thrown the invitation aside. I had assumed I wouldn’t even bother going, but strangely the thought had started growing on me.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I said, hesitation in my voice. “I’ll see.”
Lately, she had been skirting the topic but hadn’t fully said it until now. I knew she wanted me to visit—or maybe more—but no matter how much I told her it wasn’t going to happen, she clearly wasn’t planning on letting it go.
“Fine, fine,” she said, giving up the fight for the moment. She quickly changed the subject. “You should see the trees, though. The orchard is doing great this year. It’s so full.”
I smiled, filled with unexpected pride. Though I hadn’t felt much attachment to the orchard before, since my return home, I had started to feel more excited when I heard how well it was doing. And with its continued success under Devon’s experienced hands, I found I wasn’t completely averse to hearing about it.
“That’s good to hear. It must be beautiful.”
I could imagine the trees blossoming, the leaves and flowers turning the orchard into a true sight to see.
“Absolutely beautiful.”
She was quiet for a moment and I knew there was more she wasn’t saying.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing,” she lied.
“Mom...”
“Alright,” she said, taking in a deep breath, steadying herself for what she was about to say. “I know you don’t like to talk about it. But really, he looks horrible.”
I knew immediately who she meant and felt my stomach drop.
“You’re right; I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Don’t you miss him?” She had brought up the subject a few times over the past weeks, and my answer had always been the same. She knew this, yet she always insisted. “He doesn’t talk to me about it, but I can tell—the man is broken.”
“I’m sure you believe that, but I doubt it’s true.”
There was a part of me that wanted to believe her. I wanted to know that this was as difficult for Devon as it was for me. However, I knew it was probably my mother’s flagrant imagination getting the best of her.
“Elizabeth, don’t do that. Don’t underestimate your value.”
I rolled my eyes, truly not interested in discussing my self-esteem with my mother.
“I’m not underestimating, Mom. Whatever happened between him and me is in the past. Besides, I’m his boss now. It’s better this way.”
“You know I wholeheartedly disagree with that. I think if you just—,”
“No, Mom. Drop it,” I interrupted sharply. “I have to go. We’ll talk soon. Bye.”
Before giving her the chance to speak again, I hung up. The fact was I was finally accepting the working relationship I had with Devon and in the limited times we had spoken, it was via email. The distance made it so much easier to forget how I felt, what we had done and what I had given up.
The truth remained—and I hated admitting it—I did miss him. Horribly. I missed the way he had made me feel, the way he could bring a smile to my face without even saying a word. I sincerely hoped he was busy with the company and that it required all his time and energy. I didn’t want to know that instead, he was sitting around like I was, constantly sulking and desperately trying to forget what had happened. I prayed he wasn’t having trouble sleeping at night like I was.
The sadness I had been trying to keep at bay started to creep back in. I attacked the fridge and opened a bottle of wine, pouring myself a rather large glass. Nudging Max aside, I sat on the sofa and turned on the TV, my constant companion these days. As per my usual nights spent alone at home, I was faced with nothing but horribly cheesy romantic comedies and post-apocalyptic zombie films. Not wanting any reminders of my failed love life, I chose the latter.
A mob of zombies was about to attack a small group of survivors when I was startled by a knock at the door. It wasn’t late, but I wasn’t expecting anyone either, so I proceeded cautiously. Making sure the chain was in place, I opened the door slowly, peeping through the opening.
My heart sank.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Hi, Elle,” Devon said, his voice sexy and soft.
It took me a few seconds to accept that he was, in fact, standing at my door. If at all possible, he looked even better than I remembered. He seemed tired, his eyes a little less striking than usual, but nothing that made him any less appealing. I quickly shook off the familiar feeling creeping up inside of me.
“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to say, barely more than a whisper. I noted that it came out rather rudely.
“Why don’t you take that down,” he suggested, pointing to the chain.
As I did what he asked, I took advantage while the door was momentarily closed to take a deep breath. When I reopened the door, I found him smiling, his bright, enchanting smile. On the television, a largely breasted red-head was running for her life from a mob of the undead. I hurried to turn it off, embarrassed.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, realizing I had left him standing in the doorway.
I now saw that he was holding a large, cardboard box. I nodded toward it.
“Valerie was cleaning out Dolores’ things and she found these.” He handed me the box and I looked inside to see it was filled with picture frames. “She thought that maybe you’d want them. Your mother said you might.”
I set the box down on the coffee table. “These are terrific. Thank you. It means a lot that you went through al
l this trouble.”
The weight of a thousand words left unsaid weighed heavy on my chest.
“It was no trouble, really. It was my pleasure,” he paused. “How have you been?”
“Good. You?”
“I’ve been alright.”
“The orchards are doing well?”
“Really well.”
The small talk was killing me and I was desperate for something less awkward or pointless to say.
“Elle, I need to say something to you,” he said, breaking the tension. Hearing my name coming from those lips sent a wave of elation through me. “The last time we saw each other, what I said to you, it was inexcusable. I was being a selfish dick and I’m sorry.”
A little surprised by his apology, I took a moment to let it sink in.
“I appreciate that Devon, I really do, but there’s no need. It’s been a while.” I sat down. He approached me but didn’t sit. “Either way, everything you said was true. Had you not said it, I wouldn’t be here now. You were right. I have always doubted myself and sadly, no one ever cared enough to push me in the right direction. Had it not been for your words, I wouldn’t have dreamt I’d be able to do what I’m doing now.”
He blushed and I was relieved to finally have what I was feeling out in the open.
“You are doing a great job, as a matter of fact,” Devon agreed, making me smile.
“Thanks, so are you.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying desperately to keep my hands busy. The silence once again filled the room and space between us. His eyes shifted toward the box and he looked as if he wanted to say more.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked, hopeful.
To my surprise, he refused. “Thanks, but I should probably get going.”
“Come on, you didn’t come all the way here just to bring me a box of pictures, did you?” I tried not to seem too desperate for his company, but I could tell it was in vain.
“Yeah, actually I did. I figured it would give me the chance to apologize, too.”
“Oh,” I replied, my disappointment obvious.
“I’ve got plans tonight, anyhow, so I should get going.”
“Plans? Like a date?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
“Kind of.”
It took me a moment to register his answer.
Obviously, he was dating. How long could I expect someone like him to be single? He was such a rare specimen, I was sure women were lining up to ask him out. Without a doubt, Nicole would have been the first in line.
“That’s good,” I lied. “Don’t let me keep you, then.”
We walked to the door together and stopped, the air feeling thick.
“Thank you again, Devon. It was nice seeing you.”
“You’re welcome, Elle.”
I opened the door for him and as he walked past me, he stopped and kissed me on the cheek.
“Hope we’ll see each other soon.”
I nodded, my heart about to explode. He walked away down the hall and I shut the door, biting my lip to stop myself from screaming. Holding my head in my hands, I hoped that these feelings I had for him would soon vanish and that one day in the future I would be able to be around him without feeling like this.
I walked to the box and took out some pictures. Maybe the images would conjure up some happy memories, or at the very least, memories that would distract me from the gaping hole that had just been reopened in my chest. The portraits were mainly from my childhood—family picnics, birthdays, even one with my grandfather and I, canoeing on the lake. They were of happier times when secrets were non-existent and we all got along and loved one another. When there were no complications. Unlike now.
I continued rummaging through the box a little while longer, finding a picture without a frame. Worried it would get bent, I quickly took it out. Turning its face up, I nearly dropped it when I saw who was photographed. It was a black and white picture of a few people sitting around a bonfire. More importantly, it was the bonfire we’d had after my grandmother’s wake. And there, in the centre of the picture were Devon and me, sitting side by side, roasting marshmallows. We were deep in conversation, completely oblivious of our picture being taken.
I could remember that moment so clearly in my mind. It was when things had officially shifted between us, and somehow the photographer, whoever they were, had captured those feelings. They had captured the intensity and the passion I had felt when looking into Devon’s eyes. The same passion I had felt just a few moments ago when he’d been standing in my apartment.
And just like that, it was as if a light had turned on in the darkness that I had let grow in my heart. I bolted up, the box falling onto the couch and I ran for the door.
Maybe I wasn’t too late.
I hoped against all logic that he wasn’t gone yet. Running down the stairs, taking some two at a time, I reached the door, out of breath. Crashing onto the sidewalk, I looked both ways, gasping for air. People noticed me, one woman who was pushing a stroller seemed frightened, but I didn’t care, especially not when I saw him there, leaning against the wall, a small grin on his face.
Relief very visibly washed over me.
“You put that picture in there, didn’t you?” I asked, getting closer.
He stepped closer still, smiling coyly and shrugged.
“Maybe I did.”
He took me in his arms, gently framing my face with his hands. Their warmth filled me with a feeling of safety and love that, until that moment, I hadn’t realized I had missed so much.
I smiled. “You knew I’d come down, didn’t you?”
“I figured it was worth a try.”
Saturday, November 18th
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The sun was incredibly hot; my skin feeling the slow burn, but there wasn’t any chance I was leaving. We were almost at the end of our two-week vacation and I didn’t even want to consider going home—not yet, anyway.
She was swimming in the pool and I got hard just watching her. It wasn’t uncommon for her to have that effect on me. I found that even seeing her in her baggy pyjamas could arouse me.
There wasn’t much time for pyjamas these days, though. A fact that made me particularly happy she had agreed to some time off. I was even more relieved that she let me splurge on this private retreat. We could have stayed anywhere, really, but this place, with its privacy and its complete seclusion from the world, well, let’s just say it was conducive to the things we had been doing during our trip. It amused me to no end how she always seemed surprised when I wanted more of her.
Lately, back at home, we were both pretty consumed with work, but with the season slowing everything down, and with winter nearly upon us, I knew we needed some sun and especially some distance from everyone and everything, as well as some time to be alone with each other.
She swam up to me, resting her chin on the edge of the blue-tiled pool.
“Are you coming in?” she asked, looking up with those incredible brown eyes of hers.
Her nose and cheeks were covered with freckles—the sun had brought them out, yet another feature that I loved about her and hadn’t been privy to before now.
“Why don’t you come here, first,” I suggested.
I needed her on top of me, now. She pulled herself out of the pool, wearing that tiny pale pink bikini.
It wouldn’t take much to get that off, just the tug of a string or two.
She stood by my chair, offering me her hand. I kissed it and guided her on top of me. She straddled me in that slow way she knows drives me crazy, nearly making me come right then and there.
She started to rub on me, teasing me. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled my shorts down and tugged aside the tiny piece of fabric that stood between us. I went in her deep, making her moan. I grabbed her hips and let her ride me, up and down.
I ripped her top down, taking her nipple in my mouth, savouring it, biting down just a little, the way I knew she loved. She slam
med down, nearly making me scream.
Damn, she was good.
I held her ass—I loved everything about her, but her ass was definitely my favourite. She moaned my name and leaned her head back. After that, it didn’t take long for us both to come.
She lay down next to me on the lounge chair and I held her in my arms. This vacation had gone by too fast, I told her. She agreed.
“I hope Max is doing OK,” she said, bringing up her cat that was being watched by my sister.
“I’m sure he’s fine.” I found it so incredibly endearing how much she adored that cat. I kept trying to get on his good side, but it seemed he didn’t like not being the only man in her life anymore. I liked the cat alright, but he seemed to go out of his way to destroy my things. “Now, about that swim?”
I knew she would say No. I could feel her body relaxing and knew she was moments away from falling asleep.
“Maybe in a bit,” she answered.
I kissed her head and let her rest. Her hand was on my chest and I took it in mine. Her hands were so tiny, so feminine. As I stroked her fingers, I smiled thinking back on the previous evening and how she had looked. She was stunning, to say the least. Her skin tanned, her hair flowing over her shoulders, wavy, with streaks of gold running through—a goddess.
The sun hit the stone on her finger, making it glint and sparkle. I smiled when I thought back to how her face had lit up, the way she had started to cry and then had been embarrassed about doing so.
Of course, she would never believe me no matter how many times I would tell her, but the moment she said Yes, she had truly been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
She would always be the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
And to think, had it not been for a picture my buddy had taken, all of this might never have happened.