She’s drinking wine with her takeout—we both are. I’m not drunk, but I feel the effects of the alcohol. Maybe that’s why I’m only thinking of Cill every five minutes. I’m aware it’s every five minutes because I can’t stop checking the clock. He texted me when he’d be home.
He said, your place, rather than home.
I’ll be at your place around seven.
It’s six forty-five now.
With the cabernet sinking in sip by sip, I’m less nervous and more excited than I’ve been all day. Warm. A little bit calmer. Lydia takes another swallow of hers.
“I’m not leaving you alone.” She glances toward the stairs. “Am I?”
I can’t think of what to say to Lydia, so I grab the wine instead. I’m anxious with him in the house. Anxious, and attracted. Another sip down and I shrug, licking the sweet liquid from my lower lip.
All my feelings for him came back in a rush with that simple text message. Thinking of him in that guest bedroom made it damn hard to settle down at night. I’m not the kind of girl who tosses and turns over things she can’t control, but Cill? He’s like a thunderstorm. I never know when he might break apart.
My gaze flicks to the clock again as I lean forward in anticipation. Shoving the food away, I can’t eat anymore with these butterflies.
He wants me. I don’t know everything and I have to tell him what happened. But the man I’ve always loved wants me and there’s still something there.
My only worry is that once I tell him what happened, or once he finds out, he’ll never look at me the same. But last night, that look he gave me …
“How did it go last night?” Lydia asks, bringing my attention back to her although she’s focused elsewhere. She’s watching out the window again.
“Not a peep from him after I showed him the room, and when I got up … he was gone.” I rub under my still sore eyes. I’m exhausted, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to bed until I see him.
“You sleep at all?”
“Not at all.” I can barely manage a fake smile. I don’t count those hours when I was half dreaming close to the morning. That wasn’t restful sleep.
“Kat,” she says, her tone scolding. “You have to rest. You can’t start losing sleep over—”
“I’ll be all right. Just getting used to things. It was the first night.” And I didn’t know it was coming. All things considered, things could have gone a lot worse. Cill’s back home and he’s safe. I was safe in my house. No one tried to break in. If losing a night of sleep is the worst that happens, I’ll be counting my blessings.
“You know,” Lydia says, “you are the one in control here. If you don’t want him here, you tell him that. He can find somewhere else to go.”
“I know.”
I understand the worry that lingers in her eyes. I do. I get it. But it’s Cill. And if there’s something there still, how could I possibly let that go?
I took it upon myself to be independent so that I’d never be caught off guard the way I was that night at the clubhouse. No one would ever throw my life into disarray again. But I know, right away, that I won’t kick Cill out of my house and I won’t say no if he wants me. I don’t think I have that in me. Even if he is turning my emotions a bit upside down.
A bit—okay. Totally upside down.
“And …” She takes another small bite of her food. “If you don’t want to be with him, you don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re stuck and hopeless. And maybe like you’re a lovesick lost puppy.” Lydia softens her statement with a smile.
She’s right. I couldn’t even nap today. I spent an hour on the couch trying, but all I could think about was whether Cill would come back or whether he’d disappear out of my life again. I thought about his note. I thought about him … and then he texted me.
“It’s kind of insulting to my ego that a single text from a man can make me feel this way,” I admit out loud and, without my conscious consent, sneak a peek at the clock again.
Lydia snorts a laugh and pushes her hair out of her face, elbows on the table while dragging out the words, “Oh my God. You still love him!”
There’s that twist in my chest and the knowledge I have to tell him everything, but still I nod.
“So you’re a mess over him, even after four years?”
“Because I want him with me more than anything,” I admit. “But when he finds out what happened …” Emotion makes my throat close.