Page 46 of Revelry
“Maybe we talk more often,” I suggested. “You know. When it feels right.”
Rev pounced onto the bed with a loud meow and we both laughed, the spell between us broken by our furry friend. I pecked her cheek once more, petting Rev as he hopped right up on our laps.
“See? Rev agrees.”
Wren rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed a sweet shade of pink and she reached forward to pet behind Rev’s ear. “What does he know? Boys are dumb.”
I chuckled. “No arguments here.”
VACILLATE
vac·il·late
Verb
To waver in mind, will, or feeling : hesitate in choice of opinions or courses
Once again, the night was my enemy.
Anderson had stayed at my cabin all day, and for the first time since our little arrangement, he didn’t work on a single thing. We laid in bed talking, eventually made our way downstairs for my favorite breakfast—coffee and cinnamon rolls—and then we spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening talking on the back porch. It seemed like once the flood gates had been opened that morning, we couldn’t stop the words from pouring out.
And it wasamazing.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk about—not just about Keith, but about life in general. Maybe that was the missing part of my experience at the cabin that I hadn’t yet discovered. It turned out the more I learned about Anderson and how he grew up, the more I thought about myownupbringing and how it affected who I was.
Throughout the entire day, even when we talked about the difficult subjects, I didn’t have one single bad feeling wash over me. Every conversation was comfortable, every touch welcome, and when Anderson kissed me soft and sweet on the front porch as the sun set before heading off to his own cabin for the night, I was content as could be.
But then he left.
And my brain kicked on.
Suddenly, nothing felt okay, and I tried to distract myself by cleaning up the cabin, but it did little to help. I made the bed first, and of course the sheets smelled like Anderson—cinnamon and pine—so my thoughts ran wild while I folded and tucked.
What the hell were we evendoing?
Here I was divorced for all of five months and he had admitted in one of our conversations that he’d never really had a girlfriend—not in the traditional sense of the word, anyway. But then again, why did I even care that he hadn’t had a girlfriend? It’s not like that’s what I was expecting to be. I mean, I was fresh out of a ten-year relationship, I wasn’t trying to jump into another one. We had literallyjustslept together not even twenty-four hours ago and already I was thinking about meeting parents and sharing houses?
I huffed, stomping downstairs and getting straight to work on the dishes from our breakfast and lunch. The soapy hot water turned my hands red as I scrubbed, wishing I could cleanse my anxiety just as easily. I needed to calm down, so I tried focusing on the reality of the situation.
What were the facts?
One, I was divorced.
Two, he was guarded.
Three, I was only here temporarily.
Four, we clearly had feelings for each other.
Right?
I knewIhad some sort of feelings toward Anderson. Yes, the sex had been of another universe, but it was more than that. Wasn’t it?
I shook my head, rinsing the last fork before cutting the water off and drying my hands. I grabbed the broom next, trying to stay busy and turning my thoughts back to the facts.
Okay, so what were wehonestlydealing with here? I would be in Gold Bar for a couple more months, we would hang out like normal, maybe share our beds once in a while, and then I’d go back to Seattle and he’d go back to his life before me and we’d just have fun together while we could. It’d be a sexy, fun summer affair.
Perfect.
