“You room is nice,” he says. “Not too girly.”
My gaze darts across the space, and I notice the clock on my night table. “We have approximately two hours and thirty-two minutes,” I tell him, “and then, I need to go pick up the kids from school.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.”
This is unreal. Should he meet them? Why not? I could introduce him as a friend visiting from Europe, which is what he is. “You’ll have to get dressed first,” I joke with a pout. “What a shame.”
He looks even more beautiful than I remember, tangled in my paisley sheets. I trace the edges of his tattoo. “What are you doing here?” I say, finally asking the question that’s been on my mind since I first saw him sitting on my stoop.
He takes my hand in his, and entwines his long fingers with mine. “I had to come and see you… I missed you. I wanted to surprise you.”
I laugh. “Well, you surprised me all right.”
“I’m so glad I did,” he says. “I’ve missed this.”
“The kids will love you,” I blurt. How can they not?
“I hope,” he says. “I brought them some treats.”
I smile. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
I wonder if this is how it’s going to be between us from now on… stolen moments, once or twice a year, neither one of us moving on, and telling the kids my ‘friend’ Eli is visiting again. It wouldn’t be perfect, but even if I can only get a few moments like this every year, it’d be worth it.
I snuggle up closer and lay my head on his chest. “When did you get here?”
“Last night,” he tells me. “I didn’t want to show up on your doorstep, late at night, with the kids here. I’m staying at a hotel nearby.”
My heart is heavy when I ask him, “When are you leaving?”
“In a week.”
I pull the wrinkled sheet up over my breasts. “Why didn’t you reply to my message?” I don’t think he realizes how much his silence hurt, and I still don’t understand it.
“I didn’t get it until recently.”
I pull from him. Is he putting me on? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’d blocked you on Gmail, like you asked. And on Facebook, and Instagram too. No more contact, you said.”
“I did.”
“And honestly, I didn’t want the temptation to stalk you every day,” he confesses. “I wanted to forget you. But no luck there,” he adds with a sigh. “I thought about you every day, every hour. Every little thing reminded me of you… elephants, bananas, mermaids, art, long dark hair, potato wedges. Even Floyd seemed down in the dumps after you left.”
I laugh. “I doubt that.”
“It’s true, I swear. He’s all sluggish these days.”
“So you didn’t get my message initially?”
“Do you believe in fate?” he asks.
I smile. “I do. I’m naive that way.”
“Well, I didn’t before, but something happened…”
I study him intently, curiosity filling me. “What happened?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
