The words sounded detached from my body as I spoke them. I’d said them before, reciting them to friends while I was in college, but every time they brought a fresh wave of pain. I blinked rapidly, shaking my head.
“Sorry, it’s been almost ten years. I shouldn’t get so upset talking about it,” I said.
Magnolia reached out and patted my elbow. “It really just…sucks. And time doesn’t make it better, you just get better at dealing with the pain.”
“That’s true.” I pulled the blankets tighter around me. “I’m sorry about your husband. That’s just awful.”
“Anyway, let’s change the subject before we’re both sobbing on the porch. The point I was going to make was, maybe give Viktor a chance. I ran into him in Charleston the other week while I was getting coffee and asked about you. He had a look on his face I’ve never seen there before.”
I chewed my lip, my stomach fluttering. “What kind of look?”
“The kind of look Gathii used to give me.”
The silence was deafening. I laughed awkwardly, waving my hand.
“He barely knows me,” I protested. “There’s no way he feels something for me. I mean, he feels something, but it’s all in his dick. Sorry, was that too much information?”
“I’m always down to hear the salacious details. The only action I get these days is from my vibrator.”
I laughed, a little surprised by her honesty. “Well, we’re not having sex, so the details aren’t too salacious.”
Her brows rose. “Really? Why not? He’s never been my type, but even I can admit Viktor is sexy as fuck. You should get on that, even if you don’t have feelings for him. Might as well have a good time.”
I squirmed, remembering what he’d done to me the night before he left. “I think I feel something for him, I’m just not in love with him. But he is hot and I told him I’d sleep with him, but he had a whole excuse about how he wanted to wait.”
“He wanted to wait?” Magnolia rose and poured herself another glass of wine and leaned against the table. “For what?”
“Well,” I said slowly, feeling embarrassed. “I’m a virgin.”
Her brows rose, this time even higher. “Oh? And he wanted to take it slow?”
I nodded.
A slow smile spread over her face. “Oh, he’s got it bad.”
I shook my head, standing and swaying a little from the wine. “He doesn’t feel anything, okay? I really need him not to, so let’s just say he doesn’t.”
She shook her head and padded across the porch, sliding open the door. “You need to get home before you get too drunk. Why don’t you call your bodyguard and have him come pick you up?”
“How’d you know about the bodyguard?” I asked, following her into the kitchen.
“I saw him walk you here,” she said, winking. “I notice things. Things like bodyguards. And husbands who have it bad for their wives.”
That night, I climbed the stairs feeling pleasantly drunk. For a moment, I’d forgotten that Viktor was still gone and I half expected him to be there, sleeping in the bed. But it was empty, the sheets smooth and cool, and my stomach sank. I stood there in the doorway, the room swimming before my eyes, my head spinning.
Why did I care?
I forced myself to shake off the sudden loneliness. It was nothing to worry about—I always got melancholy when the alcohol started to wear off. Stripping, I crawled into the bed and slipped beneath the sheets. The room was incredibly silent, the only sound the soft cooing of an owl sounding over the marsh. I squeezed my eyes shut and remembered the way his hands felt on my body.
It was mid-February when the cold broke and the weather became wonderfully balmy. I threw open the windows and Brenda and Magnolia and I spent the day cleaning and going through the cupboards. Then we took a trip into town with the credit card Viktor had left me and purchased new things for the kitchen and house.
I’d never been in charge of managing a household before and it felt good to pick out new linens, plates, and glasses. The ones Viktor had were old and wildly outdated. Brenda said she’d gotten them at the supermarket almost ten years ago and she agreed it was time for them to go and make way for something new.
By the beginning of the last week in February, I had the house transformed with Magnolia and Brenda’s help. The beds had fresh linens in pastels for spring, the rugs were new, and sheer, white curtains had been hung. The house looked less like a single man lived there and more like a home.
That night, I pulled the curtains and padded through the house naked with a glass of red wine. It felt better than I’d imagined to have my own space, decorated with the things I liked. For the first time since my parents’ death, I felt secure, like I might finally have a real home. The sensation was overwhelming, a little bittersweet, and warm in my chest like liquor.
With a blanket wrapped around me, I sat on the porch like I had every night since Viktor’s departure and finished my wine. Then I dragged myself up the stairs and pulled on one of his t-shirts and crawled into bed. Through the sheer curtains, I could see the crescent moon rising over the marsh. In the distance a nighthawk keened and a little shiver went down my spine.