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I beam at him. “Just pay for it,” I tease. “That should be your motto. I’ll just buy it.”
“Come on,” he says softly.
“Well, I appreciate your generosity. Some people in your position don’t share,” I say. “So, thank you.”
I don’t tell him I am searching for jobs and housing in Galveston. He has choices to make that will break my heart, and so do I.
“I am going to go in,” I say. “If you don’t feel like hanging out.”
Jack stands while I walk away. I didn’t bring an overnight bag, so I carried the outfits he paid for, from the Rodeo Drive dress to the delivery clothes, in a wad in one hand. I have to look ridiculous – me in a bikini with my evening purse strapped over my shoulder. I try the door. It opens.
“That wasn’t even locked?” he asks.
“No, I guess not,” I say. “Unless Todd forgot to lock it.”
He charges past me. “I’m checking it out before you go in,” he insists.
As he enters the inn, I say, “Do you know how many square feet this place is? It would take you an hour to check it out properly.”
“Do you want me to make you pack a suitcase and return to Santa Monica with me?” he threatens.
“So strict,” I tease. Let’s go check out the rooms so you can be satisfied. I’ll lock the attic door while we’re up there.”
Jack walks around and tries even the closet doors to check that no one is lurking in a closet or behind a door.
“I’ve never had anyone break in ever,” I say.
Finally, he is satisfied. He sweeps my waist with his powerful arms and presses me close to him. “We have to start making plans,” he says.
“Yeah, I know,” I admit sadly. “I should be ready sometime this week to take the next steps. I want to say goodbye to this. To Dove Point.”
He kisses me gingerly.
“I would also really like to have my friends over for a nice dinner in the hall before I have to leave,” I say.
“That sounds really nice,” he says.
While Jack is embracing me, he draws his thumb beneath my breasts. My nipples stand erect beneath the flimsy triangle that forms one side of my bathing suit top. I start to stir but realize I am too dead on my feet to take part.
“Let me call you later,” I say.
It is hard to make boundaries when I like him so much. I don’t want him to go. We lift our hands, still entangled, and shake our heads. He brings the back of my hand to his lips. He kisses it like we’re never going to see each other again. I stroke his hair. He stands up straight, looking me in the eye. I brush my lips to his.
“We could do this all day,” I whisper.
“All day,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I’ll call you after work to see if you feel up to dinner with me.”
I walk as far as the front door and watch him enter the car. It’s when he drives off that the sadness sinks in. I dash upstairs and put on flannels. I am going to snuggle on the couch in the parlor and make plans for my going away dinner.
But first, a nap is in order. I stretch out on the sofa, bathed in sunlight. I again draw the crocheted blanket up around me and feel myself sinking into a delicious state of half awake, half asleep when there is an urgent knock on the door.
“What did you forget?” I call out, though I can’t imagine what he thought he left behind. “Except for me,” I joke out loud.
I answer the door without first confirming that it is, in fact, Jack knocking. I guess I don’t answer quickly enough. Whoever it is raps impatiently at the door once again. I yank open the front door and freeze.
Adrianne.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
