Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
She breathed quietly beside me.
When a minute passed, I straightened and turned in her direction.
Her gaze was down on her hands as they rested together on her folder. “I just got you back. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it…”
“There’s nothing you could do.” My hand went to hers, and I interlocked our fingers. “I could easily afford to put you in a nice hotel if I wanted to. But I want you here—with me.” After seeing her place in Brooklyn, I wanted her close, somewhere I could keep an eye on her. It’d been a really difficult couple of months, more for her than for me, and I just wanted her to relax. I wanted her to feel safe, not to stress about money, not to worry about provoking me.
She finally turned to me, her eyes vulnerable and clear, like words on a page. She looked at my lips before she raised her gaze and looked in my eyes. “I don’t want space either. I miss you…” She squeezed my hand.
I missed her more than I could ever put into words. It was hard for me to diagnose the pain I’d felt for the last few months, to understand what was going on. I was a professional at collecting data and interpreting those results, but when it came to my own emotions, they were just random data points on a graph—with no correlation whatsoever. All I knew was that I was sad without her, consistently, and even when I had the right to be with other people, I didn’t want it. Wasn’t even tempted. That was love…at least, that was my best guess. “Then join me at the dining table. And have a real meal.”
“I do miss your cooking.”
I pulled the folder off her lap and set it on the other end of the couch before I stood up. I extended my hand to her. “And I miss cooking for you.”
I walked down the hallway, moving slowly because my nose was buried in paperwork. I’d walk a couple feet, stop to read, and then walk again.
“Hey, Deacon.”
I looked up and saw Dr. Hawthorne approaching me, going in the opposite direction. “I’m just going over the titrations I did this morning.”
“And?”
I lowered the papers and sighed. “Inconclusive.”
“Well, you’ll have better luck next time.”
“Yeah…maybe. Are you going to your lab?”
“I’m joining Steve, actually. Asked me to look over his stuff.”
“Alright. Hope you have better luck than I did.” I started to walk.
She pivoted her body as I started to pass her. “You seem to be in better spirits.”
It was an observation, so I didn’t know how to respond. I stopped and looked at her.
“Did you work things out with Cleo?”
Was my physical appearance that different from how it used to be? How did people see these things when I couldn’t? I knew what I felt in my chest, but how could she see it too? My entire body stopped aching; my heart stopped feeling sluggish. Having Cleo in my life, even in this altered way, was such a massive improvement for the quality of my life. There was no pressure on my part because I made it clear I wanted us to be together, just at my pace. I’d forgiven her for what she did, and she’d forgiven me for not being there for her. But it would still take some time to get back what we used to have.
And I wanted that…so much.
I missed being that happy. It was like being on a cocktail of antidepressants with the smoothest whiskey, giving me a high that never faded, a drunkenness that never abated. I was addicted to the joy, and that was really obvious once the effect wore off.
I wanted it back.
Kathleen continued to stare at me, her eyebrow slightly raised because such a long period of silence had passed. “Forget I asked.” She smiled. “Have a good day, Deacon.”
I snapped out of my reverie, thinking about memories at the cabin. “Yes, I got her back.”
She nodded slightly. “I’m happy for you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in such a good mood.” She continued her walk down the hallway.
I lifted my papers and got back to work, forgetting the conversation the second it was over.
I worked at the dining table, and before I got up to start dinner, Valerie texted me.
I’m going out tonight. Can you take Derek?
I never said no. This was what I wanted, to have my son on a regular basis, even if I wanted alone time with Cleo. Now, she was right across the hall from Derek so he might ask some questions, but I still wouldn’t turn Valerie down. Yes.
I’ll drop him off in a bit.
When I went into the kitchen, I made dinner for three instead of two.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later.