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“I love you, baby,” I choke out as a tear rolls down my cheek. Because I won’t leave here without her knowing how I feel. We may have only reconnected a week ago, but I
have loved Cora half of my life. No use in denying it. “And I will be home soon. Before my birthday.”
And before I can stop myself, I lean forward and place a tender kiss on her lips. Our lips may touch for less than two breaths, but those two breaths are equivalent to forever. And as difficult as it is, I back away and drop my hands from her. I grant her the space she needs.
Without another word, I step around her and walk toward the park across from her house. But just before I get out of earshot, I overhear her wails as they bounce off the trees and wisp away in the wind. Her cries for us. And for herself. And the love that binds us together like nothing else. A love that brought us together, shredded us, and will unite us again.
The second my feet touch the grassy park property, tears stream down my face. I stare back at the house briefly, and although I cannot see her, I feel her. Feel her anguish. And I vow to never be the reason she cries like that again. Vow to wipe away all her pain.
Five
Cora
Once I make it inside, I throw my purse to the floor and go feed Luna. From the back door to her food bowl, she weaves between my legs and meows her love for me. At least I have someone who will give me her undying love. All she wants in return is the occasional scoop of food, water, a clean litterbox and my affection.
If only human relationships were so simple.
I scoop Luna some food and pet her a few times while she eats and purrs simultaneously. Once she is sated, I head to the bathroom and do my business. A moment later, I swap out my clothes for a tank top and undies then crawl into my bed. Since I left the door cracked for Luna, I fetch my eye mask from my nightstand and block out any semblance of daylight.
Even if it’s just a few hours, I need some sleep. Because no matter how much I tried to fall asleep on Shelly’s comfy couch, it never happened. My mind ran vicious circles in the dark. And the muffled tears never let up.
One moment, my mind was trying to rationalize the reasons he would be in a fake relationship with someone. Why he would let the world think they were engaged. What would Gavin gain from a setup like that? Especially if he professes to love me the way he does. But instead of coming up with viable answers, all I did was cry more. And I prayed that Shelly couldn’t hear me sobbing into the pillow.
A few minutes later, Luna jumps onto the bed and curls up beside me. Her purrs soothe in a way nothing else does. As if she senses my forlorn demeanor, she inches her way up to my shoulder and nestles in the crook of my neck, purring stronger. I tug the sheet higher and get hit with Gavin’s smell on the cotton. Upset as I am, his beachy-pine scent soothes me. Settles my soul. And within minutes, I fall asleep.
I jolt awake to the sound of my phone ringing. As badly as I want to ignore it, I can’t. It could be someone other than Gavin calling me. When you work for yourself, you never get a day off.
Rolling over, I slap my hand over the surface of my bedside table until I come into contact with my phone. Not removing my eye cover, I manage to answer the call. “Hello?” My voice is raspier than a grizzly bear.
“Cora, it’s Mom. Did I wake you, sweetie?”
I push the mask up to my forehead and hold the phone away from my ear a second, checking the time. Holy shit. It’s just after three in the afternoon. I am more than thankful for the sleep, but most of the day has withered away. But it’s not as if I had plans, so whatever.
“Yeah, but it’s okay Mom. Is everything alright?”
A second later, a knock raps at my back door. I bolt upright and hold my breath as my heart hammers a vicious rhythm in my chest. Shit. Did Gavin come back? Please, please, please don’t let that be him. I don’t think I can deal with him—or us—right now. I just need more time to process everything.
I shove the covers from my legs and plant my feet on the floor, reluctant to move. The knock comes again as I pad down the small hall to the back door. Unfortunately for me, the back door is solid and I’m unable to see who stands on the other side—unlike my front door. I really should invest in a peephole or one of those video doorbells for the back.
As I stand at the door, hand on the knob, reluctant to turn it, my mom speaks up. “Cora, it’s me. I’m the one knocking on your door.”
Relief hits and I remember how to breathe again when I discover Gavin isn’t the person outside my house. In the last two minutes, I somehow forgot I’d been holding the phone to my ear and my mom was on the other end. Probably because the moment there was a knock at the door, Mom stopped speaking. If she would have just told me it was her outside, I wouldn’t be tiptoeing through my own house and she’d be inside already.
I twist the knob and swing the door open. I shield my eyes as the bright afternoon sun temporarily blinds me.
Stepping off to the side, I let Mom pass and then shut the door. I follow her into the kitchen and notice she’s putting food in my fridge. “What’s all that?” I ask.
“I stopped at the Patch and picked up a few things for you. Figured you wouldn’t be in the mood to go anywhere.” Her tone casual and body language easygoing. As if today is just another day.
She pulls out a couple pans and pots and starts chopping vegetables on the cutting board. Then she fills a pot with water and turns on a burner. I follow her movements for a few minutes while she busies herself in my kitchen. She moves as if she has cooked here hundreds of times, when it is quite the opposite. Of the countless times Mom has been in my home, never once has she cooked here. So watching her right now is peculiar. It isn’t an anomaly to see my mom in the kitchen. But to see her in my kitchen, bustling around like she cooks here every day, is weird.
“Mom?”
Lifting her eyes from the cutting board, she peeks up at me. “Yeah, sweetie.”
“What made you think I might not be in the mood to go anywhere?”
I have a sneaking suspicion what the answer is, but I need to know for certain before making assumptions. Before opening my mouth and spilling all the juicy details of my wretched love life.
