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Rueben
I slept like absolute shit.
The only thing that made it better was having Cricket in my arms. Everything—the ticking clock and the looming finish to our week together—hung like an anvil, heavy and despondent, but being with her, having her naked skin pressed against me, seemed to make it all a little more bearable.
When the sun starts to peek over the horizon, I exhale slowly. The last thing I want is to get up and moving, but that’s just what I need to do. Not to rush what little time I have left with her, but because I need to start pulling away before it’s too late. Before I say or do something I shouldn’t do—like ask her to stay. Her life is in California, and mine is here.
Gingerly, I roll out of bed, careful not to wake her. Sunlight reflects off her long, brown hair, and something tells me I’m never going to look at morning light the same way. I open my dresser and find a pair of lounge pants. After slipping them on, I slide my glasses onto my face and really drink my fill of the beauty in my bed. Her hair is splayed against my pillow, her mouth slightly agape in relaxation. The blankets dip low, revealing a nice view of cleavage. She’s like a wet dream come to life.
Instead of doing what I’d rather do—which is crawl back into bed with Cricket—I slip out of the bedroom and head downstairs. The sun has risen and the birds are chirping. Opening up the deck door and front window, I let the warm breeze blow through the house and get to work in the kitchen, flipping on the coffee pot. I’m not a huge cook, but I manage. I chop up some mushrooms and peppers and throw them in a small pan. Next, I dice some sliced ham and cheese and add them to the mix, finally adding half dozen eggs to the concoction.
I flip the omelet over and plop four slices of toast in the toaster. The minute they start to pop up, I slather them in butter and toss them on a plate. I remove the omelet from the pan and cut it in half, placing a half on each plate. Adding the buttered toast and two cups of coffee, I take my tray (cookie sheet) up the stairs and to my room.
When I enter, I’m surrounded by her scent. Cricket is a goddess, all wrapped up in my blankets, and like the goddess she is, draws me to her. Carefully, I set the tray on the nightstand and crawl onto the bed. She stirs as I reach my hand over and swipe the thick strand of brown hair off her cheek. Then, I follow the trail of my fingers with my lips. “Good morning, sunshine,” I whisper.
Those emerald eyes slowly open and a small smile spreads across her lips. “Morning,” she says as she stretches beneath the blankets, the material falling below her breasts as she moves her arms over her head.
I ignore the desire swirling through my body and thickening in my pants. Now isn’t the time to have Cricket. We’re down to mere hours left together, and the last thing I want is for her to think I’m only after sex. What I want from her is so much more than a physical release. I just have to figure out a way to tell her.
“That smells delicious,” she mumbles, sitting up and grabbing for the sheet to keep her covered.
“Well, I’m hoping it tastes as good as it smells,” I confess, grabbing the tray and setting it on the bed between us.
Sheet forgotten, she reaches for the coffee and takes a sip. I hand her a fork and watch as she dives into the omelet, devouring half of it in no time, as if she hasn’t eaten in days. “Oh my God, this is so good,” she says, her mouth full of food. Smiling, I grab my own fork and take a hearty bite of eggs.
“I accepted the job,” I tell her between bites.
Her entire face lights up with excitement. “You did? That’s so wonderful.”
Shrugging, I reply, “Well, the money’s hard to pass up, but I get to work from home too. I’m not sure about working for the government, but if it doesn’t work out, it shouldn’t be too hard to find something in my field again.”
Cricket smiles, her damn face lighting up and making my heart trip over itself in my chest. “I’m proud of you.”
We chat through breakfast, but we stay away from anything heavy. Mostly the warm weather, the amount of time it took me to update and renovate this aging cabin, and how many times I’ve seen bears. We avoid all of the things that really matter, like how would we make this work long distance and what if we can’t find time to schedule another visit. Those are the things I don’t have answers for. Not yet. So I keep them to myself.
After breakfast, we snuggle in bed, watching the clouds roll in and the sky turn a darker shade of gray. Just like my mood, I can feel the storm looming in the near future, and also like my mood, I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.
My eyes keep watching the clock, and the closer it gets to the witching hour, the more tense we both get. When I know it’s time to start moving or risk her missing her flight—which wouldn’t be that bad—I take her by the hand and lead her to the bathroom. I crank up the water, getting it as hot as I can without burning our skin, and help her inside.
This shower is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. There are no words and even no sex. We spend thirty minutes touching each other, as if it could be the last time. I memorize every curve of her body, caressing every square inch. I pretend not to notice the extra wetness on her face, allowing the shower water to wash away those tears. But I know they’re there. I’ll remember them for the rest of my life.
After our shower, I wrap us both in a thick towel, and we start the painful process of getting ready for the day. The atmosphere is somber, the air thick with pain and regret. Not regret of what has happened, but regret that our lives are in two different places. Sure, easy fix, you’d say, but there’s so much more to it. My new job. Her job. Mortgage and rent payments. Plus, there’s the fact that this relationship is so new, we haven’t even really had a proper “dating” period. We skipped right over it and jumped headfirst into practically living together and meeting each other’s families.
Not to mention that it all started with a lie.
A tiny little fib.
I know we’ve done this all backwards, and it’s going to take time to straighten out. The problem is we just don’t have any time left.
As we head to the airport, our fingers entwined, I just don’t know what to do or say. The one thing I know as certain as my name is: I don’t want her to go.
Chapter Nineteen
Cricket
As far as days go, this one’s pretty fucking shitty.
It’s not the company, not in the least. It’s not the gloomy, rainy sky that really just seems par for the course. It’s not even the fact that I’m heading home with more questions than answers. It’s the fact I’m leaving Rueben behind. My friend. My lover. The one I’ve grown so incredibly close to in the last week that the prospect of not waking up beside him tomorrow weighs heavily on my heart. The one who makes me smile and be a better me.
