Rising from the couch, I stretch out my limbs then fold the blanket and drape it over the couch. I tiptoe through the house in search of the bathroom. After I relieve myself, I wash up and tiptoe back out.
Finding a piece of paper and pen on the desk nestled between the living and dining area, I write a quick note. As I set the pen back in its place, I bump the corner of her open laptop and the screen lights up.
Shit.
Snagging the note, I go to close the lid of the laptop and hide its bright light. But just as I begin to push the top down, I see a photo from one of our shoots this week. A photo she left open. A photo of me.
Confusion flickers in my veins. Rapid-fire questions pop up left and right. Was the photo left open because of work and editing? Or was it left open for other reasons?
A strange, woozy sensation floats in my chest at the possibility of her ogling a photo of me. Of her sitting in this very spot and gawking at my images. But I shut down the idea, not wanting my hopes to get the best of me.
I ignore the laptop and leave it open since it will return to sleep mode within minutes.
Walking over to her bedroom door, I stand in front of it and close my eyes. Do I go in and leave the note where I know she will find it? Or should I slip it under the door? This isn’t my house. And technically, Cora isn’t my girl.
My internal battle continues a minute before I choose the obvious path.
I slowly twist the knob and am thankful the door stays silent as it opens. Padding through the room darkened by black-out curtains, I walk toward her bed and set the note on top of her phone. A place I know she will find it.
Before turning to leave, I stare down at her a moment. Although I should leave now, the selfish part of me stays to observe Cora without distraction. To take in the woman who has held my heart captive most of my life.
And for a moment, I study the lines of her face as she sleeps. How her brows arch up, not in the middle but closer to a lateral point. The way her long lashes fan across the purple half-moons beneath her eyes. How her black strands splay across the dark gray cotton pillowcase.
A red tank covers her chest, but rises up her midriff to unintentionally display her navel. A small locket rests atop her shirt, and I remember it as the one her mom gave her. The sheet bunches near the thick band of her underwear. Her body askew on the mattress, taking up half of the queen-size space like a giant starfish.
A contented sigh leaves my lips as I pivot to leave the room. As much as I would like to stay, now is not the day. After closing the door behind me, I retrieve my phone from the living room and head for the door. I lock the handle as I step out the back. Scanning the street, I try to orient myself and figure out where I am.
Across the street from Cora’s house is a large, open park. Honestly, doesn’t surprise me she purchased a home within fifty-feet of a park. I cross the street, land on a small paved path and wander through the greenery in the faint morning light.
It is peaceful here. Most of this side of the park is filled with lush oak trees and a pathway for leisurely strolls. No wonder it was so quiet in her house.
I stand near the edge of a pond in the center of the park and watch a raft of ducks as they splash and quack and say good morning to each other. Squirrels dig at the earth in search of hidden food. A gentle breeze blows off the water, cuts the morning heat and rustles the leaves. A few people pass by with dogs and wave as if I live in the neighborhood. Everything about this place is quaint and chill and absolutely perfect.
After fifteen minutes of wandering the park and collecting my thoughts, I locate a bench on the outskirts and request an Uber. I pluck a twig from the ground, twirl it between my fingers and zone out while I wait.
Thank God I have today to myself. After everything last night, I need the time. To think and map out what happens next. Because after last night, I won’t deny myself or Cora. Not again.
Chapter Seventeen
Cora
Something wet scrapes over my nose. My cheek. My eye. It stops after a minute, but starts up again. My eyebrow. The corner of my mouth. Then my ear. Argh! What the hell is that? I swat at the air and come in contact with a bulky body of fur.
Luna.
She paws my face, a sweet and pleading meow only inches from my ear. When I don’t respond, she paws me again and meows louder. It is a scratchy-whiny meow. One that tells me it is past time to wake up. One that tells me I need to pay her attention.
Grr… I shove her to the side and scoot to sit up. Luna rubs the side of her body against my arm, doing a figure eight and coming back for more, a noticeable purr echoing in the darkness. Giving her a light pat and a few pets, I creep out from under the sheet.
“Come on pretty girl. Let’s get you some breakfast.” As soon as the word breakfast is said, her cries morph into a frenzy as if I never feed her. Ridiculous, but adorable.
When she hops off the bed, I reach for my phone and pick up a piece of paper resting atop it. I pinch my eyes together in the darkness and see it is a note from Gavin.
C,
I didn’t want to wake you. Or disturb your morning. Or make things awkward when you woke up and I was still here.
See you tomorrow. Enjoy your day off.