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I watch as she brings the hotdog up to her lips and takes a bite. “Oh God,” she moans, covering her mouth with her hand while she chews.
“Good, right?”
“So good.”
She chews slowly, savoring her first bite of imitation ballpark hotdog, and if I must say, risking the chance to sound cheesy as fuck, it’s fucking hot as hell watching her eat. Sexy. Alluring. Intoxicating.
Just like her.
We talk while I clean up the remnants of dinner, watch the water sweep across the shore, and the sun begins to drop from the sky behind us. We rarely break conversation, and on those rare moments when we do, it’s not uncomfortable or awkward. It’s just two people, who seem to enjoy each other’s company, taking a few moments to appreciate what’s around them.
I never had that with Carrie, not even in the beginning. When things were quiet, it was tense. Though, it wasn’t quiet all that much either. My ex-wife was a talker, especially in certain social circles that she could benefit from. She was the epitome of a social ladder climber, always leeching on to whoever could help her next vertical move to the top.
And for a long time, that was me.
At least it was, until there was no more use for me.
The sun drops behind the trees and the breeze has a slight dampness to it, even for the first weekend in September. AJ shivers and wraps her arms around her chest in an attempt to warm herself. Reaching back over for the bag, I retrieve the other blanket I brought. Just in case. This one is smaller and lighter than the one we’re sitting on, and may or may not have come from my own chair. You know, the one that hangs on the back so when you start to nod off, you can grab it and cover up?
That blanket.
The one that I hope will now have the added scent of the outdoors…and AJ.
I know.
I’m already gone.
