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Chapter Thirty-Eight
RIFF
Iexperienced something I never did before in my life.
At the absent hands of a woman, of all things.
I had been through enough one-night stands in my life.
I had enjoyedtwo-night stands.
The occasionallong weekend-night stand.
And there was even aone week-standone time.
But this?
This sense of longing and this desire to travel the world to find Fiona just to make sure she was okay?
I had put a bed in my condo big enough to fit me with some room for the occasional company.
Hence the one-night stand stuff above.
Never before did I leave that bed to sleep elsewhere in the condo.
A perfectly good bed.
Blankets. Pillows.
Dark, cool, the perfect comfort needed for a good night’s rest.
All of it wasted as I fought to make myself fit on the couch.
Every time I moved an inch, my body felt as though it were falling off a thousand-foot cliff. I would jerk and gasp. My heart raced. I’d slam my right foot to the floor and sit up.
Look around.
Dream of Fiona walking from the kitchen.
Wearing nothing but one of my hockey t-shirts.
Sipping something from a glass.
Sex lacing her eyes like a drug that the two of us weren’t able to resist.
More than sex, I just wanted to pick her up and hold her. Hug her and kiss her.
I wanted to taste her breath. Taste her tongue.
I wanted to feel her lips against mine, wrestling, never fully giving up all control because she definedbeautiful but stubborn.
It didn’t happen.
It wasn’t going to happen either.
I didn’t think for a second Fiona was gone forever.
More of an extendedfor nowthing.
