It’s not a goodbye, but it feels like it.
A gentle voice calls my name, dragging me from dreams that are already fading. I peel one eye open, but the room is still dark. The only light comes from the hallway through the gap in the partially opened door.
I lift my head to see a dark figure standing to the side of the bed. “Euan?”Why’s he all the way over there?“’M back bed.” My voice comes out gummy, the words stuck in my throat. To make my point clearer, I sit up just enough to wrap my arms around his waist, then try to pull him back into bed with me, where he belongs.
“Alex, I have to go.”
Go? It’s too early to go anywhere.“No. Stay.”
A large hand caresses my head, then cups my cheek. I turn to nuzzle against it. The warm palm feels nice, but I’d prefer to have all of him wrapped around me. I try again to tug him into the bed with me, but he’s too solid. He doesn’t budge at all.
“I don’t want to be late for my flight.”
Flight?The word finally pierces through the haze of sleep. Euan is leaving today. Right now. And I have no idea when—if—I’ll see him again.
Slowly, I drop my arms and get out of bed. “Do you need help carrying anything to the car?”
“I’ve got it,” he says, once again denying me those few extra minutes.
I follow him into the hall, my steps slow and dragging.
Euan’s luggage is already by the front door, ready to go.
“Text me when you get home safe.”
Euan gazes at me for a moment, then he pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe. “You were an amazing husband,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my brow. “Even if it was only for a week.”
It’s only after he’s gone, all his things cleared out, that I finally whisper, “You too.”
The second time I wake up, it’s like a switch is flipped. There’s no grogginess, no confusion, no hesitation. Today, I am going to pack up Theresa’s things and get them out of my apartment.
Used lotions, shampoos, and soaps go into the trash. Clothes go into the laundry, along with both sets of bed sheets. I try not to linger on thoughts of Euan and me in both beds asI strip them clean. How quickly his presence seeped into every space.
Once I’ve selfishly taken up every machine in the laundry room, I return to the guest bedroom and stare at the dozens of figures spread over three bookshelves.Where do I even begin?
The Witch-king catches my eye. An image of Euan naked, water streaming down his chest flashes in my mind. Tracing my fingers over his tattoo, blushing as he teased me for not immediately recognizing it.
I reach for the figure a little too enthusiastically, accidentally sending the one next to it crashing to the floor.Shit!The little guy rattles and rolls all the way to the edge of the bed before it finally stops. When I kneel to pick it up, a flash of green fabric catches my eye. Frowning, I yank it out from under the bed.
It’s a T-shirt. Too big for me, with a graphic design I don’t know. A soft scent still clings to it and I inhale greedily, immediately recognizing it:Euan. He must have dropped the shirt while packing and accidentally left it behind.
Well, I have to tell him, right? Let him know I have it.I’ve already sent the text before I remember that he’s on a plane and won’t see it for hours. I fold the shirt and set it aside while I return to cleaning.
An hour later, as I’m replacing the sheets on the guest room bed, the reply text comes in.
Euan
Which shirt is it?
I send him a picture.
Damn, that’s my favorite one.
I lie back on the bed, the shirt in my lap, debating how to reply.Should I offer to send it to him? Or tease him that he’ll have to come get it?Before I decide, he texts again.
I’ve landed. Not home yet, though.
Got a long drive home?
