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"My offer still stands if you need it."
Gretel spins around, grinning from ear to ear. Then she raises her hand to bid farewell again, and this time Abigail returns the gesture. Gretel hops into the car with her husband, determined to have a long conversation with him. Abigail gets into her own car, heading to a car wash. Cleaning the trunk thoroughly will help her disconnect from the unease she feels.
Chapter 22
When Abigail finally arrives home, it's past eight in the evening. She's given her all to cleaning her car, inside and out, except for the front seats where Gretel sat. She doesn't want to lose the last trace she has of her. Getting out of the car, a strong smell of bleach wrinkles her nose, causing her pain.
"Damn," she mutters in disgust, bringing her hand to her face cautiously.
No matter how hard she tries, she can't deny being in a foul mood. All day, she anticipated the moment when she and Gretel could let the flames ignite, those flames that spark whenever they're close. In her ideal scenario, they would have arrived home, taken a shower, poured some glasses of wine, made love on the couch while waiting for a sumptuous dinner from her favorite restaurant. Then, they would have made love again and spent the rest of the night chatting about themselves until they fell asleep.
However, none of that is happening because Gretel left with her husband. Abigail feels more foolish than ever, wondering how she allowed herself to entertain those thoughts with a woman who, at best, could only have extreme resentment for her husband's prank. She had built illusions, she, a woman so rational and practical, fell victim to what she always swore wouldn't happen to her. She nods resignedly and walks to her bedroom. Though she may not have Gretel, she can still enjoy a soothing bath and that dinner. She grabs clean underwear and pajamas, glancing towards the bed where she and Gretel slept. Opening the wardrobe, she eyes the sets of clean sheets ready for a change, but at the last moment, she shuts the door. She can't do it; the scent of those sheets is all she has left of Gretel right now, and she's not ready to let it go, no matter how challenging it is to comprehend the reason. It's only been forty-eight hours together, yet it feels as if the love of her life has abandoned her. She takes a couple of seconds to take a deep breath and refocus; she's exhausted, both physically and mentally, and perhaps that's influencing her. Tomorrow is another day, she thinks as she heads to the bathroom.
Abigail fills the bathtub to the brim with scalding water, turning her skin red the moment she sheds her clothes and steps in. She likes it this way, the initial sting that lets her body adapt to the temperature, something that relaxes her. The enormous antique tub, her only indulgence for which she didn't mind paying a ridiculous sum, strategically placed near the window. On clear nights, she can gaze at the starry sky. Usually, she pairs this with aromatic candles, a glass of wine, and soft music. Not tonight. She's so furious with herself that she deems herself worthy of this punishment. She slowly sinks until fully submerged, holds for a few seconds, then allows her head to emerge, feeling a bit better. She locks eyes on the window, noticing even the sky has chosen not to accompany her; all she sees is the blackness shrouded by thick clouds, obscuring the luminous spectacle she loves.
The doorbell rings, startling her to the extent that it creates waves in the bathtub, spilling onto the floor and soaking everything. Abigail figures it must be around nine and curses under her breath. It won't be the first Saturday her brother Jairo shows up at this hour, dropping off his niece because he's made plans with a friend. She gets up, even more annoyed than before, wraps herself in a robe without bothering to dry her long hair, and heads toward the door. The bell rings again just as she's about to open it.
"I've told you a thousand times to let me know first," she begins when she opens the door, but when she sees Gretel on the other side, she falls silent.
"Hello," Gretel greets with extreme shyness. "I'm glad you're here and not at your apartment," relieved to have found her.
"Gretel..." Abigail manages to say once she recovers from the initial surprise.
"I know the afternoon didn't go as we expected, but suddenly, I realized I couldn't move forward without closing the chapter with Pol."
Abigail blinks a couple of times, trying to process what she hears. Gretel swallows hard, unable to tear her gaze away from the glimpse of Abigail's chest the robe exposes. The curve of one of her breasts subtly shines with the lingering dampness, eliciting an impatient sigh from Gretel.
"Finished with Pol?" Abigail asks, a bit disoriented.
"Well, actually, he was the one who ended things with me last night. But yes, I had a long conversation with him to ensure our separation isn't a hassle for either of us. I think I caught you at a bad time," Gretel says, changing the subject, sensing Abigail was expecting someone when she opened the door.
"Bad time?" Abigail repeats, struggling to process that Gretel has indeed just knocked on her door.
"Yeah, I think I'm interrupting something."
Abigail takes a quick look at herself and raises an eyebrow.
"You're not interrupting anything," Abigail finally recovers. "I was just taking a bath. Come in, don't stand there."
Abigail steps aside, shamelessly eyeing Gretel as she passes. Gretel has changed clothes, her hair still damp. She carries her purse and a small duffel bag in her left hand.
"Are you staying the night?" Abigail asks without hesitation.
Gretel blushes to the roots of her hair, looking flustered. Abigail's first hint of a smile emerges, suddenly feeling much better.
"If you haven't changed your mind about the offer, yes. I thought of staying here for a few days until I find a rental apartment. I don't want to be a burden, Abigail. If it bothers you, just say so. My brother lives an hour away; I can go to his place."
Abigail closes the door in response and snatches the duffel bag from Gretel's hand, letting it drop to the floor.
"You can stay as long as you want. I told you. In this house or my apartment. Pick a room or stay with me in mine. You're home."
Abigail suddenly feels a fire coursing through her body. Despite the robe, she's naked underneath, exposed, vulnerable, yet excited. She senses herself getting wet rapidly, and fear starts creeping in.
"In your room?" Gretel repeats, her gaze fixed on Abigail's cleavage.
"Choose that option, but be aware, it comes with consequences," Abigail states, her dark eyes dilated like deep wells, and Gretel feels her heart thumping urgently between her legs.
"What kind of consequences?" Gretel asks, taking two steps toward Abigail. She stands before her, pulling at the robe's tie.
