by Remy Blake
She removes the key from the ignition. “It’s more than enough space for me.” We both open our doors and step onto the driveway.
“You don’t have any kids?” I ask.
“No. I didn’t want any with my ex—I didn’t want them.”
Her walk is brisk and I allow her the space she seems to want. Maybe my question was too invasive. Unfortunately, I can’t retract the words now. But I’m curious why she answered the way she did.
My gaze glides over her gently curved frame as she unlocks the door. She throws a quick glance over her shoulder to me. “Come on in.”
Following her inside, the soles of our shoes tap on the shiny new hardwood floors. The space is bright and open. “This is nice.” Without any furniture or rugs, my voice echoes.
“Thank you. It’s modest compared to the house I left, but it feels more like home already.”
“That’s great. That means you’ll be happy here,” I say, wanting to reassure her but not sure why.
She nods. “I can hope anyway.” She holds up her finger. “The bedroom is this way.” She springs off again, light on her feet, with me trailing behind. “All that needs to be assembled is the bed frame.”
Her bedroom is large and empty aside from a nightstand, a bureau, and the headboard leaning against the wall. I point to the area. “Is this where you want the bed?”
“Yes, please.”
After I’ve organized everything, I set one of the side rails against the mounting hole in the headboard, tightening the screws by hand. This would go much quicker if she had a cordless drill. I repeat the process on the other side and grab the footboard from the other side of the room.
“Do you need help with that?” she asks.
“No, thanks. I’m all set.” It’s not heavy, just bulky. I fasten the long screws into the mounting holes on both sides, and the outer frame is complete.
After I fasten all the slats between the two sides of the frame, it’s time to add the mattress. I glance at Penelope. “Now I can use your help.”
“Sure.”
“We need to place the mattress on the frame. I’ll push it from the back and you can guide the front. Just try to stabilize it and keep it on its side.” There’s no way she could carry it, so this is our only option.
She does a great job following my instructions and, a few minutes later, her mattress is situated on the frame where it belongs. I hold my hand up and she gives me a high five before jumping onto the bed. Landing on her back, she lets out a long groan. “Oh my God. I’m lying on a cloud.” I want her to be lying on me.
“It’s a mattress, how great can it be?” I ask, dropping down next to her. Lying back, I sigh. “Damn, this does feel like a cloud.” I turn to look at Penelope and find her interested gaze already on me. An almost palpable flare of desire pings between us, stretching the wordless moment out a beat or two too long.
The moment she becomes cognizant of our precarious position, it washes over her expression like a filter on a picture, and she utters, “Yeah, it’s going to be hard to leave this bed every morning.”
My mind flashes an image of us naked and entwined on this mattress. If this was my reality, I’d never want to leave.
The doorbell rings, ruining my fantasy. “I guess my ride’s here.” Reluctantly, I rise from the bed.
Time to head back to my prison.
PENELOPE
It’s not the first night I’ve slept alone, but the new house, new bed, and fresh sheets may have contributed to the first uninterrupted sleep I’ve had in months.
It had felt weird to sleep alone after Eric left, but last night, the ghost of him was nowhere to be found.
In fact, I fell asleep thinking about a man who is far too young for me. It doesn’t matter how gorgeous he is, or how helpful he was. It doesn’t matter how easy it was to talk to him, or how uneasy I felt to watch him walk away.
Groaning loudly into an empty room, I grab the nearest pillow and throw it over my face, dramatically screaming into it.
“Get it together, Penelope,” I murmur against the pillow. “Divorce doesn’t mean you lose your goddamned mind.”
My cell rings, and I extend my arm out of the blankets and blindly feel around the top of my nightstand. Raising the pillow off my face, I squint at the screen and reluctantly answer.
“Hello,” I greet, my voice groggy from it’s lack of use.
“Rise and shine, Pen Pen.”
“Delia, why are you so cheerful in the morning?”
“Well, it’s not everyday my best friend gets a divorce.”
“Hopefully, it’s my first and last.”
“So, what are you doing today?” she asks.
“I don’t know, I figured I should probably go to the store to check and see how they’ve been doing without me.”
Delia’s response is drowned out by the sound of my doorbell echoing throughout my house.
“Shit,” I say, startled. “I don’t know who that could be, I haven’t really told anyone I live here.”
“You live in Merlot,” Delia scoffs. “Since when do you need to tell anyone anything?”
“True.” I climb out of my bed and hastily tug my silk wrap off it’s hanger and walk toward the front door. “Look, can I call you back?”
“No way,” she says a little too harshly. “You said it yourself that nobody knows you live there. What if it’s a psychopath coming to kill you?”
“Geez, someone needs to lay off the true crime podcasts.”
“Don’t you have your doorbell linked to your phone?” she asks.
“No.” I keep her on the line as I pick up the pace and keep talking. “I need to buy a new Ring system, but this old-school doorbell that came with the house will do just fine.”
Whoever it is presses the doorbell again.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I call out.
Not bothering to check through the glass side panels that flank the front door, I quickly unlock it and swing it open.
“You scheming little bitch.” I drag the phone off my ear and tackle my best friend, grateful to be gifted the surprise of a lifetime. “What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer right away, holding me just as tightly instead.
“I hated not being here for you these last six months.”
My eyes fill with unshed tears. Tears of complete relief and happiness. We pull apart, and Delia frowns at me. “Are you okay?”
I go in for a second hug. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”
While the move to Merlot for Eric and me was very much intentional and something we wanted, leaving behind our friends and family was the price we paid for this little slice of heaven.
At first, it didn’t bother me. Technology was,, and still is, in its prime, and besides physical distance, I could see and speak to anyone I wanted at any damn time of the day.
But when things started to get tough, and the cracks in my marriage turned into broken chunks, the distance between me and my family and friends felt enormous.
And then after a while, I just felt downright embarrassed. Embarrassed to be so invested in the move. Embarrassed that we were falling apart. Embarrassed because I was a failure.
So then I went through a stage of avoidance and ignoring everyone who reached out. Especially Delia.
With our mothers being best friends, we were destined to follow the same path, which made the time I’ve been away from her harder than I would care to admit.
“Now come on, Pen Pen, there will be none of that,” she says, hiding her own emotions with fake cheer. “I’m in wine country and I came here to get absolutely wasted.”
I laugh. It’s soggy from the tears, but it’s such an unfamiliar sound. When was the last time I laughed?
“Okay,” I start as I simultaneously guide her into the back. “Let’s stop at the shop first and make sure it’s still standing. You can pick a few outfits, then we’ll go to the Moscato Resort & Spa, and finally, we’ll spen
d the rest of the afternoon tasting the best wine Merlot, California has to offer.
“Becca, thank you so much for fitting us in today. I know how hard it is to get a last-minute appointment.”
Becca waves her hand in front of her face, her cheeks blushing. “Don’t be silly, there’s nothing to thank me for. Everybody deserves some R&R with their best friend.” She focuses her gaze on Delia. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Delia says politely.
“Why don’t you two take a seat and I’ll bring you out some champagne while you decide on what treatments you both want to get.”
“This place is super fancy,” Delia muses, her eyes darting all around the lavish lobby.
“Isn’t it? I haven’t come in a while.”
“That’s what she said,” Delia interrupts with a smirk.
“You never really did grow out of those jokes did you?”
“Can you blame me? You left the door right open with that one.”
A young lady appears out of thin air, holding a tray with two champagne glasses, a strawberry in each.
“Thank you,” I say, handing Delia hers, then grabbing mine.
“Plus,” Delia nudges me when the server walks away, “you probably haven’t come in a while.”
“Jesus,” I hiss. “Can you be any louder?”
“What? Nobody’s listening?”
I do a quick scan of our surroundings and then look her straight in the eye. “If you must know, I’ve been on a journey of self-discovery. I’ve been trying to fall back in love with sex and have developed a healthy relationship with my sex toys.”
“Yes, but getting off using your vibrator isn’t exactly the same thing.”
“I don’t always need my vibrator,” I argue. My cheeks heat up just thinking about Cord and how easy it was to imagine him while indulging in a little bit of self-care last night.
“Penelope Schwartz,” Delia scolds. “Are you blushing?”
I turn away from her, not sure if I want to bring up the random crush on my lawyer's nephew quite yet.
“Ladies.” Perfectly timed, Becca enters the room, explaining a whole host of regulations and introductions, before she ushers us out into the change rooms. “Now, just get down to your birthday suit, slip into your robe, and your massage therapists will be with you shortly.”
When Becca leaves, Delia holds my stare. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this,” she threatens. “You know I’ll get it out of you.”
Not generally shy to change in front of one another, I use this opportunity to step into one of the stalls so she can’t see my face. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. There’s nobody.”
“Oh, I know,” she says, completely ignoring me. “It’s your lawyer, isn’t it. You’re always smiling when you talk about him and you’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
I’m not surprised she noticed that about Ted, but after seeing Cord and remembering the way my body responded to his presence, I know it was the chemistry that was missing and one of the more obvious reasons I could never entertain the idea of a relationship with Ted.
I step back into the main area, both Delia and I now wrapped in the comfiest and softest material either of us has ever felt.
“So, is it Ted?” she persists.
Holding her gaze, I chew on the inside of my lip in contemplation.
“Pen Pen,” she coaxes.
“It’s his nephew”
After blurting out the most ridiculous confession to ever come out of my mouth, I insisted Delia not ask any questions because there isn’t anything to tell. The man was gorgeous. Sexy. Hot. Every possible adjective I could ever come up with still wouldn’t be enough to explain the perfect specimen of a man he is.
But by the time we finally sit down for an early dinner at the winery restaurant, it seems Delia can’t maintain her silence any longer.
“Well, are you going to do anything about it?”
“Anything about what?” I ask while shoving a mouthful of caesar salad between my lips.
“The nephew.”
“Please don’t call him that,” I chide. “It makes me feel like a criminal.”
“He’s legal, isn’t he?”
“And in college,” I add.
“Oh my god,” she squeals. “This is perfect for you. You need a summer fling.”
“I beg to differ,” I murmur.
“Come on, Pen, let loose a little.” She holds my stare and places her hand over mine. “What happened between you and Eric? What he did and how it crushed your confidence? I know we can’t turn back time and pretend that part of your life never happened. But you sure as hell can make up for it now by living a little and giving yourself some much needed TLC.”
“And you think a twenty-one-year-old is how I need to make that happen?”
“I’m just saying I bet he could give you the perfect version of tender loving care.”
I snort, and we both laugh at my unladylike slip up.
My phone vibrates on the table and Delia swipes it up.
“It’s Ted,” she supplies. “He said. ‘You’re welcome. Always happy to help.’” She places the phone down. “What’s he talking about?”
“I sent him a text thanking him for all his help and to tell Cord I said thank you for helping with the bed.”
She claps excitedly and squeals, confusing me. “What did I miss?”
“This is perfect. Why don’t you buy Ted a bottle of wine to say thank you?” She gestures around us. “What says thank you better than wine from Merlot’s finest”
“Wouldn’t that be giving Ted the wrong idea?”
“Well, maybe, but if it means you can ‘accidentally’”–she hooks her fingers like air quotes–“bump into your summer fling, then why not?”
“He’s not my summer fling.”
“But he could be.”
I try to regulate the butterflies fluttering in the pit of my stomach at Delia’s planning and insinuations. Am I really contemplating jumping into bed with my lawyer’s nephew?
“This is stupid,” I lie while my body tightens at the very idea of being on top of him. Underneath him. Pretty much any visual of my lips being attached to his as the bare minimum works for me.
“Your cheeks are red again,” Delia points out.
“Just drop it.”
She doesn’t say another word. Instead, she rises and walks away toward the restaurant bar. I watch her as she smiles with Callie, the manager, showing off her teeth and seemingly a lot more comfortable with Merlot life than I expected. Callie pulls out the wine list and points to something written on the decorated chalkboard behind the bar.
Another five minutes of them talking passes and finally Callie goes into the back cellar only to return with three bottles of wine.
Delia sits back down at our table and hands me two out of the three bottles.
“What are these for?” I ask
“These are your thank you gift to Ted and his nephew.”
“Delia,” I warn.
“What?” she says unapologetically. “I expect a thank you when his twenty-one-year-old dick fucks your brains out.”
CORD
Day number three of my prison sentence has me outside in the backyard. I’ve been here for most of the day. Uncle Ted left me a list of tasks I “must” take care of. He made sure to let me know he expected each item checked off before he returns home from work. And specifically ordered me “not to do a shoddy job,” which made him sound way older than he is. I even looked up the meaning of the word just to make sure I had it right.
Talk about going the extra mile.
My dad has never uttered the word shoddy once in my entire life, and he and Ted are brothers. Which leads me to believe it’s a word adopted by my uncle since he seized life by the canines and became filthy rich. And now, he has a talent for making anything he says sound pretentious.
“Hey, whatcha doin’?” My cousin, Leon, walks over.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Einstein? I’m cleaning the patio furniture.”
He tsks, but that’s normal for him. He turns his nose up at the idea of any sort of labor. “But why?”
“You know why. I’m working off my sentence,” I remind him.
“You’ve been busting your ass for three days already. How much more do you have to do?”
I grimace. “Approximately fifty seven more days.”
“That sucks, cuz. Want me to see if I can get my dad to lighten up on you?”
As tempting as his offer is, I can’t accept. I did the crime, and now I’m doing the time. As an adult, I’m lucky I’m not locked up doing jail time. Or I could’ve been put on probation. To show my gratitude, I’ll suck up whatever Uncle Ted dishes out. I might not be happy about it, but I’ll take care of whatever he asks of me.
I shake my head. “Nah, I can handle this.”
“Do you want some help?” he asks.
“You’re going to help me?” I smirk. His offer is as empty as the call log on my phone. I haven’t heard from my parents once.
“Fine, you got me. I was trying to be nice, but it’s too much work.”
“Get out of here and do whatever it is you were going to before you came out here.”
“I’m heading to a friend’s for a party. You want to come?” He looks conflicted about leaving me.
“I’ll be at least another hour. You just graduated high school. You don’t need to worry about me. Go hang with your friends while you still can.”
“Yeah, but you can buy us beer.” he says, revealing his motive for inviting me.
“That’s not gonna happen. I’m in enough trouble already.”
“Don’t be a pussy. No one would find out,” he replies.
“Leon, don’t insult me, because you’re not getting your way. I owe your dad a lot, and out of respect for him, I’m not contributing to you and a bunch of other eighteen-year-olds getting drunk.”
“You could chaperone the party,” he suggests.
“I’d still be in trouble if we got caught.”
“Whatever, dude. It’s your loss. There will be a ton of hot girls there.”