Page 48 of A Bond with the Dark

Surprisingly, we drive to the Windsor exit, which is where he mentioned he lived the first night we met.

“Are we going to your house?” I ask.

He looks at me almost deviantly and says, “No” with a smile.

I’m leaning back in the passenger side, admiring the city of Windsor pass us by through the closed car window. The streets are crowded and bustling, people meandering from shop to shop or from restaurant to the square. Dominic seems at ease as he drives us this way and that, to the twisty roads on the outskirts of town that lead to the richer neighborhoods. As we turn into Pelican Lakes, a gated community on a golf course with a beautiful lake that’s popular for weddings, I take in the sights. Having been here a few times for company picnics, I love this area and hope to one day live here—when one of my books makes me millions, that is.

Massive houses sprawl along the road we linger on, each covered in ivy and divided by expansive lawns and wrought-iron gates. I know if I were to open my window here in the summer, I would smell the oleander, lilac, and honeysuckle come from the sprays of trees and bushes spotting the scenery.

“Is this your neighborhood?” I ask as we continue to the end of one street and then turn onto a dirt road.

“If I said ‘yes,’ would you judge me?” he asks and his tone has a playful hue, but I’m still not sure if he’s serious. I watch as the tendon in his hand flinches a bit as he grabs the black steering wheel, nervous.

“Of course not,” I answer honestly.

He lets out a small laugh, relaxing somewhat, and continues down the dirt road until we come to a small parking lot on the edge of the beach.

“Here we are,” he says, pressing the button to kill the engine and escaping out of the driver’s side.

First he lets me out of the passenger side and then, as I look around, he runs to get something from the back.

The sun has set already, but the sky’s in its vanilla stage, where it’s not dark yet and not quite light. The moon is just a sliver in the sky, a sky that reminds me of cotton candy. A rainbow of melted colors sits on the lake, looking like a box of crayons has tipped over and melted into the water. The trees surrounding the lake are just beginning to get their leaves, so they are a bright color green, and the light makes them seem like they’re glowing neon.

I love this time of year; when the grass is starting to come back from the long winter and is as green as you could imagine it should be, still healthy and not burnt yet by the summer sun. It reminds me of a fairytale land. Some magickal place between winter and summer where everything is fresh and new and ready to be awakened from their slumber. Even though it just snowed a week earlier, it’s nearly spring in Colorado and so the seasons often blend together.

Dominic appears with a picnic basket and a bottle of sparkling cider with two champagne glasses.

“A picnic in my favorite place in the world right now.”

“That’s amazing. It’s beautiful here.”

“It’s where I come to find peace in this place. The only place I’ve found that remotely lives up to where I’m from in New York.”

“This reminds of you of New York?” I ask, scrutinizing the gorgeous scenery. “This is not what I would picture when thinking of New York.”

I follow him down by one of the boat docks, and along a path that lines the lake.

He sniggers a bit. “I am from Upstate New York. It’s called Lake George.”

“Oh my gods! I love Lake George!” I exclaim as he stops and sets the picnic basket down.

Opening it and retrieving a checkered blanket, he looks at me with a surprise. “You know the area?”

“Oh yeah! Well, I was there a few times when I was a kid. My family was from New Jersey, and we used to drive to Lake George in the fall and stay in some cabins there.”

“Wow, what a small world,” he says, sitting down on top of the blanket and patting the place beside him.

“I know, right?” I respond, obliging him.

Pulling out a few votive candles, he lights them and sets them up around us.

After the candles are lit, he gathers the food from the basket and hands me a sandwich in a clear sandwich baggy.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, with chips.”

I let out a small laugh. “That’s perfect. I actually have a new found affinity for them now that I’m a mom.”

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t be sick of them.”

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