Page 22 of Beauty and the Beard

Cabin Three is in view and the lights inside shine bright. Sasha moves around in the living room and I wonder if he’s already started to read the book he had planned for tonight. Maybe we like the same things. The only way I’ll find out is if I move my feet and tell him I’m here, though. Step one is actually getting in the door.

Taking the steps up to the front porch, I knock once and he immediately opens the door with a smile. He’s changed again, this time wearing a pair of silk pyjama pants that pool around his bare feet and a loose t-shirt.

“Hi. I thought you might have changed your mind.”

My brow furrows.

“Why would you think that?”

“You said you’d be an hour, and it’s closer to two. I just thought…” he smiles again. “I’m glad you’re here now. Come in.”

He steps back and I come inside, kicking my shoes off at the door.

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I… I needed to do some thinking.”

“It’s okay, Leaf. It’s my insecurities getting the best of me, is all.” He takes the wine to the kitchen and uncorks it like a pro while he speaks. “You know you have a corkscrew in here but no wine glasses. I hope a coffee mug is okay.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll see if I can get Pete to fix that for me and check the other cabins.”

Sasha carries two mugs over with a bright smile, his pants swishing as he walks.

“I’m sure most people here don’t prefer wine in the cabins. Besides, a mug is just as good. I’m not that posh. I’ll drink it straight from the bottle if needed.”

He passes me a mug. “Should we sit here or outside?”

“Here is fine.”

Sasha takes one end of the sofa and I take the other. He tucks his legs up under him and sips the wine from the whiteCorellemug. His smile is infectious and I return it before sipping my wine.

“This is really good. Where’s it from?”

“It is. It’s just a wine from one of the nearby vineyards. It was my husband’s favourite.”

Sasha holds my gaze and reaches a hand over to squeeze my leg.

“I’m sorry for your loss. It’s easy to see you still love him very much. On the boat you had that faraway look when you spoke about him. The kind that swims with an ache for something in the past.”

He gets it. Maybe more than some people.

“Have you ever lost someone? Someone who took a chunk of your heart and you were never sure if it could ever beat properly again?”

He smiles a wry smile before peering into his mug, and my heart stutters while I wait for his reply.

“We’re just getting right into the heavy shit on our first night, are we?”

The silence hangs and I consider leaving. Maybe this isn’t right. Connor’s memory or not, perhaps Sasha isn’t this beacon calling to me at all and it’s just me being brave. But he shifts towards me.

“I have, yes. But not like you. My loss was a piece of me just the same, though.”

“Sasha, I don’t want to start this night off being a downer. I enjoy your company. You’re attractive and I’m too old to fuck around with pretending. You’re only here for a short time and I want to get to know you. I feel like you understand me more than most. That’s why I asked.”

He stares off out the window into the darkening evening. His profile is what I imagine photographers dream of. A straight jaw and nose, nice cheekbone definition, and gorgeous, plump lips.

I shift a little on the couch and discreetly adjust myself. He’s very sexual without even trying. Perhaps that’s part of his mystery.

“Leaf, you’re not too old and I’m not too young. May I ask how old you are? I just turned twenty-eight.”

“I’m forty-three. I lost my husband when I was thirty-six.”

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