Seven Day Loan (The Original Sinners 0.15)
Page 13
“Daniel, you did it. You left your house, the property. I can’t believe it.”
Daniel looked at the house in the near distance and laughed as if just now realizing what he’d done.
“This just shows how much I need you. I haven’t stepped foot off the property in over three years but for you…here I am.”
Eleanor held him just a moment longer, pressed her face to his neck and inhaled that scent that was him and only him. And in that one moment longer she saw their life together—the days among books, the nights wrapped around each other, the mornings for anything they wanted…and they would never have to be apart and there would never be another second of waiting for a door to open just enough for her to slip inside without anyone knowing…she could be Daniel’s and Daniel could be hers and all she had to do was say ‘yes’.
“No,” she said and let him go.
“What? No what?” Daniel looked utterly stricken.
“If you were still in there, in your fortress, then I would know how much you needed me. That you’re here, you’re free…it’s proof that you don’t need me at all.”
“Eleanor. Please.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said backing away to return to the car. “I know it won’t help anything but you should know…only leaving him would ever hurt more than this.”
She looked at him one last time before slipping back into the car and saying one terrible word—“Drive.”
The car started forward again and this time nothing and no one tried to stop it.
Three months later…
She was seeing him tonight, all night. The knowledge of twelve uninterrupted hours with him left her dancing through her day. She danced home from work at eight and dropped her bag full of library books on her kitchen table. She would shower and change and in one hour, nine on the dot, she would be his, completely his all night long.
“Ellie?” her mother’s voice called out from behind a closed bedroom door.
“You’ve got mail. On your bed.”
“Thanks!” she called back and danced to her room, not curious in the least what bit of junk mail was waiting for her. She glanced at the bed and saw a postcard on the corner of her quilt. She picked it up. On the front was a photo of mountains, snow-tipped and verdant. Now curious enough to care she flipped the card over and read…
Tierra del Fuego is actually quite lovely this time of year. Say hello to Astor and Lenox for me. Love.
It wasn’t signed. Only “love” and nothing else. But it didn’t need a signature. Daniel…she couldn’t believe he’d actually gone and left his home—gone even to the ends of the earth. The lingering guilt at leaving him so abruptly disappeared at last. He was fine and even more he was free.
Eleanor slid the postcard into a book she’d just finished reading and danced to her shower.
She knew what love was. And it was expecting her at nine.