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I didn’t bother to unpack my things. I undressed, slipped under the covers and fell into an instant sleep, dreaming about boats and drowning, which woke me up in the night. I peeled the covers away, letting my sweaty body cool. Indecision about my future kept me awake until dawn, when I managed to drift off for an hour.
* * * *
I’d missed three days of work, including Saturday. Consequently, I arrived in work early and bent over backward to make up for my lost hours. Bridget cruised in after eight, keen to know whether my excursion had been successful.
“Things are better,” I said, laying out flowers ready for an arrangement.
“Better? That’s sounds like it was hardly worth the effort.”
She held out her hand and I handed her a carnation.
“Okay. We made up, fell out, made up and it’s…promising.”
She picked up a lily. “Promising. You really don’t want to say it, do you?”
“Say what?” I fiddled with a detached leaf.
“That you love him.” She snipped the stem with scissors, adding the lily to the bouquet. She made it look easy, balancing the colors and position of the flower heads. I would chop and change my mind about what went where, trying to find the perfect assemblage without success. She got it right the first time, every time.
I hunched my shoulders over the worktable, not wanting her to see my flushed face. “I’m not sure if I do,” I muttered.
“Nonsense, girl, of course you do. You shot off determined to find out the truth. Didn’t you?”
I clenched my teeth together and sucked air through them noisily. How to explain about his tendency to dominate and take charge of me. “He’s a challenging man.”
“All men are. What is it that you like about him?”
I ceased twiddling my fingers. “I suppose he’s musical like me. Um, passionate… Sexy… Caring…” I pictured Stefan in my head, trying to sum him up without resorting to salacious terms.
“He’s good in bed,” rounded off Bridget. “Perhaps, too good?”
I froze with a hand outstretched, reaching for a flower. For some reason, I’d never articulated that particular fear, but as soon as Bridget finished speaking, I knew she’d hit on something that I had avoided. With Micah, sex had been mundane, quick and rarely fantastic. I performed for him, made the right noises, and he came easily. Naturally, I’d thought, back then, the sex was good enough. I pretended on the odd occasion to have an orgasm and didn’t think of it as deceitful, because he seemed to expect them. I couldn’t imagine lying to Stefan and I didn’t have to. If anything, trying not to come thrilled him more.
Stefan’s sexual prowess held me in awe. The confidence he exuded the moment our bodies heated up astounded me. If I’d fallen in love with Stefan, his sexual skills had founded our relationship. What if I wasn’t good enough for him, or couldn’t sustain it? I picked up another lily and handed it to Bridget, trying to mask my trembling hand.
“There’s nothing wrong with great sex. I’m rather partial to it myself,” humored Bridget. “Build on it. Take what is special in the bedroom and make it work in everything you do.”
“I’ll get some more lilies out of the back.” I hurried into the storage room, my heart pounding. The cool air hit me and I leaned against the wall. What made the great sex special? His dominance. Could I tolerate that outside the bedroom? If my arguments yesterday were anything to go by, the answer would be no. That thought depressed me, because I didn’t want us to fail, but it seemed that we were destined to fall apart.
I brought a pail of lilies to Bridget. To my relief, she moved off my personal life and rattled through the list of up-and-coming orders. A busy day, which was good. I needed the distraction.
My mobile remained silent throughout the morning, making me pensive. What if Stefan’s father had deteriorated and gone back to hospital? It would delay his return. Feeling selfish didn’t help my apprehensive mood. I wanted to see him.
Relief came in the form of a text message early afternoon.
Took Dad to doctors this morning. Doc read him Riot Act and told him to rest. Bianca still wearing big-girl panties and won’t budge. Admire her tenacity.
She sounds like a good caregiver.
I kept my message neutral, not wanting to show optimism. He hadn’t mentioned his plan to come home, leaving me doubting his original two-day estimate. The shop bell rang and I stuffed the phone back in my pocket, plastering a welcoming smile on my face.
Not long after that, I received another missive.
Finally—a breakthrough! Bianca is a gourmet cook. She and Dad in the kitchen talking about recipes!
I sensed Stefan’s relief shining through the words. I fired off a quick reply, hoping to build on his discovery of commonality between Franz and his unwanted caregiver.
Great! Why not take them shopping for ingredients?
