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Cole (9:33 p.m.): Thank you, that’s a huge relief. I owe you one.
Cole (9:34 p.m.): Blaire has hers, so we can set an alarm and be aware of any emergency alerts or anything. It’ll be fine.
Austin (9:35 p.m.): Wait, wait, wait. Blaire’s phone is in range where you can hear it? Does that mean you’re in the same room? Is the storm not the only thing getting hit fast and hard?
Cole (9:36 p.m.): Phone’s dying, and also, you’re dead to me. Thanks again. Night.
Austin (9:37 p.m.): *Laughing Emoji* *Eggplant Emoji* *Laughing Emoji*. Night bro. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
At that point, my phone finally did die. I was relieved to know that Austin would be over at Mom’s house first thing in the morning so she didn’t try to walk outside before things had been shoveled, or worse, try to take care of it herself. I knew he would follow through, even if he was less than supportive of my current predicament. I was glad my phone had died. I didn’t need Austin texting every few moments, asking something that would surely scar Blaire for life if she caught a glimpse of it.
That brought my mind back to the beautiful woman who was currently changing into my clothes in the bathroom of our shared room for the night. I made quick work of unbuttoning my button-down and exchanging my dress pants for my sweatpants. At least it didn’t seem like she was going to shower before changing. I don’t think I could handle it if Blaire was naked, wet, and in my clothes. My sweatpants surely wouldn’t hide the reaction that would bring out in me. I stared out the window and let myself get hypnotized by the falling snow to calm the hardening that errant train of thought had begun.
Suddenly I heard the door open behind me, and I took a deep breath, steeling myself to see Blaire in my clothes. I turned around, only to catch Blaire’s eyes darting up from the very sweatpants that were more and more guaranteed to make a fool of me with every passing moment. Her eyes danced around the room, finally landing on the side table where I had set the to-go boxes and bottle of wine and started toward it. Blaire ignored the food and went right for the wine.
“At least it’s a twist off, but it looks like there are no cups in the room. Out of the bottle okay with you?”
Put my mouth where Blaire’s mouth had been? Sure thing, not a problem.
“Yup,” I answered. “Though we should eat too. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Okay. Fine, Dad.” Blaire blushed red when she realized what she’d said. I certainly heard it and reeled my mind back from other scenarios where Blaire might call me daddy. It was definitely time for some wine.
Blaire plopped herself down on the floor at the foot of the bed, bottle of wine in hand, resting her back against the bottom of the bed frame. This allowed her to face the window and the snow that continued to fall at a steady pace. I settled in next to her, bringing the food containers with me, thankful that Louise had provided some cutlery, even if she forgot about glasses for the wine. I passed one of the containers to Blaire, who set the bottle of wine down between us and flipped open the lid to her container.
“What have we got?” I asked unnecessarily, as I opened my container. I felt the need to fill the silence at this particular moment.
“Looks like some tortellini. Mmm, how perfect for a cold night. I wonder if it’s homemade.”
Blaire dug in, moaning as she savored the first bite.
I quickly dug in myself, trying to ignore the sounds of food-related pleasure occurring next to me. Much like her “dad” comment, it took my mind to a place where I imagined other ways I could make Blaire moan, and how it would feel to be responsible for that kind of pleasure.
“It definitely tastes homemade. It tastes a lot like some my mom used to make before...” I trailed off, realizing I was about to address a part of my life I usually didn’t talk about with people other than Austin.
“Before what?” Blaire asked curiously, taking a break from her dinner to take a sip of wine.
Transfixed by the sight of the bottle at her lips, I answered without realizing.
“Before my dad left. My mom sort of stopped cooking, at least a lot of super involved homemade dishes, after that.”
“Oh.”
Blaire handed me the bottle of wine, which I gladly accepted and proceeded to take a few swallows.
“That sounds like it was a really hard time for both of you,” her eyes full of the type of empathy that came from a person who had a wealth of feelings and emotions to lend to those around her, but also came from a healthy family home and couldn’t personally imagine what something like that would be like.
“It was,” I admitted, putting the wine back on the ground and dragging my fork through the pasta, suddenly not very hungry anymore.
“Things were better in some ways, because they weren’t fighting anymore and we weren’t walking on eggshells around Dad, but at the same time, Mom was just really, really sad that he was gone and we were alone. It was hard for me to understand because my dad and I never got along, but she really loved him and when he left, a light sort of went out inside her. It’s one reason I stayed close to Winterberry Glen all these years and took the job with the Glen’s government. It meant I wouldn’t have to leave her too.”
Blaire reached out to put her hand on my arm in a comforting sort of gesture and I glanced at the bottle, wondering just how much wine we had drunk that had me opening up this way. But I realized it was just her. She made me feel like I could share myself with her in a way that I hadn’t done with very many people. I think I had subconsciously realized this about Blaire, and that made me feel like I needed to reinforce my walls around her.
“How does she feel about the potential of you leaving Winterberry Glen and moving to the state capital?” Blaire asked, proving that her analytical mind didn’t miss much.
“She doesn’t know yet. I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew it was a sure thing, and that the contract was going to be one that would allow me to set up some things for her I won’t be able to do since I won’t be around regularly. She started seeing a therapist a few years ago and I think that really has helped her. She’s made a few comments here and there that make me think she knows I’m ready to move on, but it’ll be a hard conversation to have.”
Blaire nodded at that, picking at the label on the wine bottle.
