CHAPTER 48
We’d arrived at the house and pulled into my side of the driveway. Mike turned the car off and we sat in silence again for a while.
“I’m not a superstitious man, and don’t believe in the power of crystals and vibrations and karma, but, if I was, I would say that someone out there is really trying to stop us from having sex,” he joked.
I laughed. “You know, I once bought a coffee table made of rose quartz because I read that it would bring peaceful vibes into my home.”
“Did it?” He turned in his seat and looked at me.
I smiled at him. “Do I look like the kind of person who’s imbued with spiritual peace?”
He laughed. “No.”
We smiled at each other, stupidly—the kind of smile you can’t help.
“You know what you are, Becca?”
“No.”
“A whirlwind of chaos. Everywhere you go, you bring chaos. And anyone who gets too close gets swept up in it.” He smiled, and I could tell he meant it in an endearing way, otherwise I might have been seriously offended, even if there was a great deal of truth in it.
We continued our smiles. The sexual mood was long gone, and I was starting to feel exhausted from my night of no sleep. I looked over at the clock on his dashboard—it was five a.m. already. “Do you think it’s safe for me to go to sleep yet?”
“I’m not a doctor, but I think this constitutes a night of no sleep.”
“I have exactly four hours to sleep, then,” I said.
“Why? What chaos do you have planned for nine o’clock?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just can’t sleep in later than nine. If I do, I always wake up feeling strange and groggy.”
“Well, I guess this is goodnight, then?” he asked, looking torn.
“I guess it is.”
“Thanks for helping me with Petra,” he added.
“Pleasure. I wish I could do more; she seems so sad.” I would never forget that look she had given me as she climbed into her small, single bed.
“I’m not sure much will help, other than seeing her son,” he mumbled. “And her grandchildren.”
I looked out the car window towards the house. “It really is a beautiful home.”
“We’re really lucky to have it. It’s steeped in so much history and so many memories, both good and bad.”
At that, my stomach contorted into a knot. A cloud of guilt, peppered with a good deal of shame, descended.If he knew what I was doing . . . what story I wasreallyresearching . . . what would he do?I suddenly felt like I needed to be away from him, before I burst into tears and blurted it all out.
“I better go.” I reached for the door handle and, before he could say anything, I’d climbed out of the car.
“Sure.” I could hear the surprise in his voice. “Thanks again,” he called after me, as I speed-walked towards the house and didn’t look back.
