Page 27 of Eternally London

Where is he?

Finally, I catch a glimpse of him through the blinds. He’s standing in our screened-in porch, talking on the phone. The Smoky Mountains is a beautiful place to live year-round. The views in the winter are spectacular with the snow-covered peaks and rolling hills of evergreens. Yet it’s also freezing cold with bitter winds. One wouldn’t choose to stand outside to make a phone call.

I open the sliding glass door, startling Loïc. “What are you doing?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Talk to you soon,” he says into his cell phone before stepping inside. “Just making a phone call,” he responds.

“Outside? In the cold?” I scan his attire. “In a T-shirt and boxers?”

“It was just a quick call.” He shrugs before leaning in and giving me a kiss on the forehead.

“Who were you talking to?” I follow him into the living room.

“Just a military buddy.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

“Tommy,” he responds after a beat.

I hold out my hand. “Let me see your phone,” I say with a scowl.

“London, stop.” His tone is placating, which bothers me even more.

“Let me see your phone, Loïc,” I demand.

“You’re being silly, babe. You know you have nothing to worry about. Please stop.”

“Whatever,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “Let’s go.” I turn and head toward the bedroom. “It’s time to make a deposit. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Loïc follows me. “Please stop calling it that. That’s not sexy.”

“Well, it’s what it is, right? I’m sorry the idea isn’tsexyenough for you.” I drop the towel and fall onto my back atop the bed. “Make your deposit,” I say again, my words lacking emotion.

Loïc sighs and removes his clothes. He bends, takes ahold of my foot, and starts kissing up my leg.

I groan with irritation. “I don’t want any of that tonight. I’m tired. I want to go to bed. Just do your thing.”

“London,” Loïc starts to protest.

“Come on. It’s the perfect time right now. Just do it. I don’t want to fight about it. I just want you to do it.” My voice rises an octave, and the annoyance inside me comes to the surface.

Loïc’s chest expands as he pulls in a long breath. He bites his lip as his eyes narrow. I know he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and for that, I’m grateful. Instead, he starts to stroke himself. I open my legs wider to prepare for his entry, and then I close my eyes and wait.

Sleepily, my eyelids flutter open. My gaze falls to the sun’s bright rays shining in through the window, warming the bare skin of my arm.

Sunshine.

A lone tear cascades down my cheek at the sight. I can’t recall the last time the sun made an appearance—surely not this month.Why am I living in a place where three weeks of January can pass without one ray of sunshine?

I miss the sun and warm weather. I hate winter.

Truth is, it’s the climate within these walls that’s suffocating me—stealing my breath, my hopes, and my joy.

How did I get here? To this place?

I turn, pulling the down comforter with me, wrapping it tightly around my chest. Loïc’s lying on his side, his back to me, as he sleeps. I study his skin—perfectly imperfect—toned, lined with muscles, smooth, and scarred in places. He’s so beautiful, every part of him, inside and out.

I’ve been so ugly.That thought propels more tears to fall. Tears of regret and so much sorrow. I don’t attempt to stop them as they roll down my cheek, dampening my pillow.

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