I was a strong, independent woman.
Malcolm had been the first to tell me that. Now I said it every time I started to think I'd never get back to being the person I had been six months ago. Before my life was flipped upside down. Before when everything was going great. And yet, it was that same life I resisted returning to.
I wanted to stay at the beach house with him, isolated from the rest of the world. I'd write in my study overlooking the ocean while listening to the waves crash just yards away. He' teach math to preppy high-school kids who went up to the Hamptons on the weekend. And in our free time, we would lay on the beach or perfect the art of kink in the Black Room.
It wasn't going to happen, but it didn't stop me from dreaming about it. While I could write anywhere, I wouldn't make him give up his job and move out here permanently. I'd probably try to talk him out of it if he even suggested it.
As much as I did not want to return to Chicago, we had to go back. My big brother, Drake, was getting married in just over a month, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I was honored when Daphne had asked me to be a bridesmaid. I had been to many weddings before, I had just never been in one. I think I might have been a bit more excited than they were.
But the moment the car door closed, I wanted to cry. I stared out the passenger window at the three-and-a-half story building that had served as my refuge for the past four months. Like a child moving away, I turned and watched out the back window as Malcolm pulled the car out of the cul-de-sac. The house grew smaller and smaller until I could just see the top of the observation room peeking above the archway of trees as we drove under it. Then any trace of the house disappeared from sight as we turned onto the highway. So long, my friend.
We arrived in Chicago from Baltimore after ten o'clock. It was dark, and we were both exhausted. Yet as tired as I was, sleep did not come easily. I probably kicked Malcolm at least a dozen times while I tossed and turned. Bless his heart that he didn't move to the guest room...or force me to.
The sun was shining through the bedroom window when I opened my eyes. It took me a moment to realize where I was. I took a deep breath and smiled as I snuggled deeper into the pillow, pulling the sheet and blanket tighter around myself.
This was home. Familiar. Comforting. And I had missed it.
When I inhaled again, I smelled bacon and moaned.
Before Malcolm, I had never been the type of person to wake up before there were double digits on the left side of the colon of the alarm clock. Now, I was more apt to if the reason was morning sex. Or someone making breakfast.
With some effort, I crawled out of the cozy cocoon I'd created. I scrounged up a pair of sweats to go with Malcolm's confiscated T-shirt that I wore regularly to bed now, pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, and followed my nose downstairs. He'd better have made enough for two.
I found my boyfriend at the stove with a spatula in one hand and the handle of the frying pan in the other. He had on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, the latter pulled taut over his broad shoulders. My smile widened as I thought of how lucky I was to have such a handsome man as my lover and best friend. And a cook, to boot!
I kissed the middle of his back between his shoulderblades and ran my hair through his thick hair. I'd convinced him to get a trim before we came back, but it still was long enough to get a little messy from sleeping. It just added to his charm.
"You'll make a morning person of me yet. I could get used to waking up to this." I peaked around his shoulder to see that he was making scrambled eggs.
He twisted in my embrace long enough to kiss my lips. "Trust me, you're not the only one."
I pressed my face against his backside and sighed. Then I frowned. There were some newly-added contents to my modern kitchen: a pile of boxes stacked against the wall by the fridge. They were severely out of place and did nothing for the décor.
"You didn't waste any time, did you?"
"Your brother dropped them off last week. But since they are here, and he was free today, Drake is going to be by later with a trailer. The opportunity presented itself. Why delay the inevitable?"
I ran one hand down the front of his chest, rubbing my breasts against his back now. "Because I can think of something better to do with our time right now. Why rush it? Especially since you're on sabbatical until January."
He pushed my hand away just before I could slide it lower. "Can you set the table, please?"
I stuck out my lower lip but obeyed. When I was done, I sat at in one of the chairs—one leg bent under me and my other foot perched on the edge of the seat—and stared out the window. Two birds flitted around the oak tree that was a brilliant combination of orange and yellow. I would miss that view every morning. I would miss making breakfast—even though that was usually just a bagel with cream cheese if I even ate at all—in my own kitchen.
And then I realized I would be missing a whole hell of a lot more than this room. Waking up in my own bed. Taking a shower in my own bathroom. Writing in my own office. Cuddling up by the fire in my own living room during the winter. Walking to the farmer's market for fresh veggies and fruit. Being so close to wherever I wanted to go in the city. Whenever I wanted to go.
A shudder ran through me, and my sigh came out shaky. No. I would not cry. I sucked up what little courage hadn't drained out of me in the last few minutes and sat up straighter. "I just don't understand why we have to do it today."
Malcolm kept his back to me while he dished up our plates. He didn't speak until he had sat down across from me and took my hand in his. "You are a strong—"
"Cut the bullshit!" I yanked my hand away and stabbed at my breakfast. With a plastic fork. What the hell? Of course, it pierced the paper plate and got stuck.
"Becca!"
"I'm not procrastinating or having commitment issues or anything like that. I was merely making a comment that I don't see the need to rush into making this change. We just got back."
I wanted my real plates and silverware. I wanted to relax this morning after being away so long. I wanted normalcy. I almost swiped the plate—food and all—to the floor, but I resisted. Barely.
"I thought it would be easier for you to not have to be reminded—"
"He didn't fucking rape me in my condo!" The fork squeaked as I pulled it free.
"I know!" He inhaled deeply and let out a loud, slow breath.
