Page 25 of Broken Bonds

“Who lives here?” My head is spinning and not in a good way. “Who’s the owner of this house?

“What are you talking about? It’s mine, of course,” he responds almost automatically.

“How long have you lived here?”

“A little over three years,” he explains while looking around a bit. I am about to ask for more information, but before I can, he takes my hand and tugs me towards a set of large wooden and glass doors. As we step through them, a gentle breeze brushes against my skin, causing my hair to dance in the wind. And then I see it - the vastness of the ocean stretching out before us. The deep blue waters blend seamlessly with the sky on the horizon, it’s truly a sight to behold.

“That’s the ocean,” he states. What my eyes are seeing makes me forget the rest.

“That’s the ocean,” he repeats. “You’ve never seen it before?”

That question catches me off guard, he and I have talked about this before.

“I already told you, the only places I’ve visited are Detroit and Chicago,” I reply without taking my eyes off the beautiful landscape in front of us.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he shrugs. “Some memories are still fuzzy.”

But for me everything is clear like the sky above us, as beautiful as the vastness of the water, and as bright as the sun. I feel like I could stay here, admiring this view forever. I can’t wait to see the sunset.

“Can we go?” I wonder. “To the beach, I mean.”

He smiles, and that makes me happy, because more than anything, what I want is to put my feet in it, feel the waves, and the sand under my feet. To discover the scent of salt water. I want to find out if it’s as wonderful as everyone describes it.

“I suppose we can,” he replies. “I’d have to check with the head of security. Maybe in a few days, when the media has found another scandal to chase.”

“Thank you.” Hearing him say those words makes me happy. And above all, I do hope things calm down.

“If you’re in the mood, we can have dinner out here tonight,” he suggests, of course I accept his offer. “We can order whatever you want, I’m looking forward to a quiet meal at home.”

I also have plans and…

“I’m tired of takeout, don’t you want some homemade meal?”

He laughs a little before answering. “You get used to it. I can handle certain stuff, the housekeeper who comes once a week leaves some frozen dinners. We can go check the fridge.”

I turn toward him, putting my hands on my hips. I don’t want to eat a frozen dinner. It’s so not appealing.

“Are you crazy? I’m perfectly capable of going to the store to get some groceries to fix supper for both of us.”

Lionel looks at me with a mixed expression of surprise and curiosity. “I didn’t bring you here to take care of me, I can manage on my own.”

“And I think they hit you in the noggin stronger than the doctor said,” I rebuke. “You know I love to cook, and when something gets into my head…”

He smiles again and it almost outshines the sun above our heads. “That is impossible to forget.”

???

At six in the evening, supper is ready on top of the pristine granite countertops in Lionel’s kitchen ready to be put in the oven. I prepared a feast. I had enough time. After our moment on the terrace, Lionel said he was in urgent need of a good shower. Although I wanted to volunteer to rub him down, I held myself back. Determined to enjoy a little sun and the beautiful view. A little later, one of Ethan’s men came with the groceries we got delivered from the store.

In fact, there were a few extras. It must have been Lionel’s doing.

At that moment, he came in barefoot dressed in a simple cobalt blue t-shirt and gray shorts, asking me for help to put the sling back on. The task wasn’t easy. My hands on his back, on his firm and defined shoulders, was quite tortuous. Fortunately for me, he was looking straight ahead and didn’t realize that I had to press my lips together to avoid a gasp from escaping me. When I finished helping him, he took my hand and kissed my wrist, in the same place as the other day. He must’ve realized the effect it had on me.

It was impossible not to.

To my surprise, not only did he take a seat at the bar waiting for me to finish, but he tried to help out in some way.

“Put me to work,” he said, and even though his arm is still in the sling, he wanted to do something. He helps me to organize the groceries in the refrigerator and points out where all the utensils are. I must admit that with the way Lionel moves around so effortlessly, it’s obvious it’s not a rented house as I first suspected.

---