Page 64 of Loud Unspoken Memories

Dallas

We’ve barely left the bed for twenty-four hours. When we get hungry, we bring food to bed. If Bex needs to go outside, we let him out quickly with a promise to play later.

There are three empty bottles of wine, multiple food wrappers and dishes, and a pile of books sitting on the nightstand.

Every muscle in my body is sore. It doesn’t matter that I spend hours a day hiking or chopping wood, apparently those aren’t the same muscles one uses for marathon sex.

I lost track after the fifth time. I chuckle softly when I think we should have kept count.

“What’s so funny?” she asks with a yawn.

Marti’s head lies on my chest where she’s been, unmoving, for the last hour. I wasn’t even aware she was awake.

“I was just wondering if we should have kept a tally. Because maybe Guinness has a category for that.”

She giggles and tickles my ribs. “We’d win that world record for sure. But I’m pretty sure in order for it to be official, there have to be witnesses.”

Now we’re both laughing.

She maneuvers off me and lays her head on her pillow.

Herpillow, I think momentarily. Somehow, over the past week, there is a pillow that’s come to be hers. She has a side of the bed. Even a designated chair at the table.

We lie facing each other.

“It was for sure my PR,” she says. She stretches her neck. “And I swear to God I used muscles I didn’t even know I had.”

“Me too,” I say, reaching up to rub one of her shoulders. “So, personal record, huh?”

She nods. “Charles and I were a one-and-done kind of couple. Even when we were teens.”

“So he’s the only one you…”

“Yeah.”

“Mmmm.” I close my eyes briefly. “Same for me.”

She doesn’t look surprised. It’s as if she already suspected. We look at each other, probably thinking the same thing. We both married our high school sweethearts. Our first loves. Our best friends. Our only lovers. And now they’re both gone.

I ask the question that’s been bouncing around in my head since yesterday. “Marti, how come you didn’t ask me about the tow truck the other day?”

She averts her gaze, staring at the ceiling through a deep sigh. Then she looks back, tucking her hand beneath her head, under her pillow. Her eyes capture mine. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

We stare at each other. Hell, we stareintoeach other. I’m not sure either of us needs to verbalize an answer. We both know why.

I take a chunk of her hair and rub it between my fingers. “He said it would probably be four days. Well, two now.”

“Two days,” she repeats, glumly.

When she says the words, and I see the emotions on her face, I swear a countdown clock appears in my head. Two days. Two more days with her. It seems surreal at this point, only a week after I found her wrecked car in a ditch, that on that first day, I couldn’t wait to get her out of my cabin. But now… now I believe that when she leaves, the cabin will feel empty.

And I fear the cabin isn’t the only thing that’ll feel that way.

Bex jumps up on the bed and worms his way between us. He licks my hand over and over. I can hardly blame him. Basedon where my hand has spent most of the last day, it must taste damn good. “Okay, okay, I get the hint.” I sit up and pull on my sweatpants. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then take him outside for some exercise. Can I make you some coffee?”

Marti’s arms stretch above her head then she pulls the covers tightly around her. “Coffee would be amazing.”

I put the water on and let it boil while I take a shower, washing off the distinct smell of sex that now permeates every pore of my skin. I brush my teeth, the whole time looking at Marti’s toothbrush wondering just how I’ll feel a few days from now when it’s no longer here. But then I look in the mirror, aided only by the light filtering through the window. Looking at my reflection is not something I do often, because every time I do, I see DJ. He had my eyes. My nose. The shape of my chin. I see what he might have looked like had he grown up. And I see the empty space next to me. The space that should be occupied by Phoebe.

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