Page 61 of Cloud Nine Love

She stared at me for a second before asking, “Wait, did you already find Ky?—”

Before she could finish her question, Harp ran back into the room. “Auntie Kenna, I left Ariel in your car. Can you get her for me?”

Thankfully, Kenna dropped this line of inquiry, although I had a feeling she was going to revisit the subject.

“Yeah, I have to get my bags, anyway.” Kenna turned to go back outside.

“Harp, go with Auntie Kenna. You were the one that left Ariel out there.”

Harp nodded and skipped out with my cousin.

As soon as the front door shut, I quietly pulled the barn door open and found Kyle, aka Remi, grinning from ear to ear. I ignored his smug smile and rushed him to the back door.

“Wait for them to come back in before you go out the side.” It was common sense that I was sure he knew, but I felt the need to tell him anyway.

As he walked past me onto the porch, he paused. “Best sex you ever had, huh?”

I sighed. “Like you didn’t already know that.”

His grin widened before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then he was gone. I shut the back door and moved to the kitchen, lifting my hand to where his lips had just been. A ghost of a tingle lingered, and something clicked inside of me.

Earlier, I had questioned who I was with him, and now I knew. When I was with him, I was the most authentic, real version of myself. All of my walls just fell away. All of the armor of protection I wore on a daily basis was stripped away. When I was with him, I felt seen, I felt loved, I felt…safe. That realization had tears pooling and falling down my face. I wasn’t a crier. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d cried in my entire life, but now the floodgates were open.

When I heard the front door again, I wiped my cheeks and sniffed back all the emotion that I’d compartmentalized, that I’d filed away, that I’d put into a box and locked. One day, I’d allow myself to have the breakdown I deserved, but today was not that day.

27

REMI

“A woodpecker can hammer up to sixteen times per second.” ~ Tim Rhodes

My eyes were bleary as I poured myself another cup of coffee. This was my fifth cup, and although there were mixed reviews on whether caffeine helped headaches, I’d always found they were the only thing that brought me relief. An army of woodpeckers had taken up residence in my head and were pecking at my brain. I rarely got migraines, but when I did, they were usually brought on by stress or lack of sleep. I was two for two in those categories, so I wasn’t surprised that I’d gotten one.

Last night, after coming home from Taylor’s, I’d stayed up and researched my mom’s condition. I’d poured over articles, websites, and blogs only to come to the conclusion that Taylor’s advice was spot on. My mom needed to see specialists for her condition, which I had no clue if she had or not. She needed to rest as much as possible, which was impractical for a server who regularly pulled double shifts. And she needed to limit her stress. Shouldering her diagnosis and care alone had to be stressful.

I sat back down at the table beside the kitchenette with my full mug as my phone rang. It was Misty. She’d called several times over the past week, but I’d been busy and hadn’t answered. I knew that my time of avoiding her was over. I needed to talk to her. I waited to feel something—anything about speaking to her again—but was met with total numbness.

My lack of emotions could be because I had a lot on my plate. Or it could be because all I could think about was Taylor. Or it could be because I’d fallen out of love with Misty at some point over the past few years and just hadn’t been self-aware enough to realize it. Or it could be D. All of the above.

After pressing the slide button, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey!” She sounded surprised that I answered. “I, um, thought you were coming home yesterday. I was just checking to make sure you were okay.”

I hadn’t even thought to call and let Misty know that I wasn’t going to be back. “Sorry, some things came up here.”

“Is everything okay?” I could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” I hadn’t spoken to Ruby or even my mom, about her condition, so I definitely wasn’t going to tell my ex what was going on.

“Oh, good. Okay. Um, I was, um, sort of hoping to talk to you…about the house.”

Four years ago, we bought a two-bedroom, two-bath bungalow in Pacific Beach on the water that was in foreclosure. Calling it a fixer-upper was generous. At the time of purchase, it had been a shell of a structure. We installed new plumbing, electrical, AC, flooring, drywall, and all new appliances. We’d both put a ton of blood, sweat, and tears into renovating it, not to mention money.

I liked the house, but it had truly been Misty’s dream home in her dream neighborhood. She’d grown up inland in San Diego and had always wanted to live on the water. It was her passion project that I’d just contributed to. I assumed that we would sell the house. We’d definitely built equity in it, and I was pretty confident the sale would give us both a nice cushion.

“I had it appraised. It’s worth one point seven five.”

We paid seven hundred and fifty for it, put twenty percent down, and every month, we’d paid one thousand towards the principal. Even with our remaining mortgage to pay off, we’d still both walk away with a nice payout.

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