His is parked in there, too, but normally that’s the only one, and it’s a three-car garage. He rarely drives anymore, because of security concerns. He gave Ellen’s car to Aussie, and she lives on campus in a dorm. The boys are away at school in Knoxville, living there.
As I wait for the door to roll up, I realize how lonely it must have been for George once Aussie left for school last year. From having a wife and three kids at home to being a widowed bachelor.
Shit.
It’s no wonder he wanted me to stay longer. Especially after all the nightmares he’s suffered through alone.
I back out of the garage and hit the button on the remote to shut the overhead door. Then, because I know Casey will beat me in a bad way if I don’t, I arm the alarm with my phone app. George didn’t give me a chance to set it last night when I arrived, because he’d been too eager to get me upstairs and in bed.
Yeah, okay, I was pretty damn eager, too.
That’ll alert Casey that I’m on my way to her house, because she gets alerts for George’s alarm system.
It’s a chilly morning, overcast, grey. I hope it’s not raining tonight for the fundraiser. We’ve had a lot of rain this winter, an exceptionally wet one, and we’ve had a higher number of emergency road repairs than usual from washouts and flooding. It’s something TDOT and emergency management officials are keeping an eye on, and one more stressor on George’s plate.
I have to wait for George’s gate to open to let me out. Then I pull out, barely needing to tap the accelerator before I’m turning in at Casey’s driveway. I punch in my gate code at the control box and wait. As the gate swings open, I’m remembering the first time she brought me out here after she bought the place, how impressed I was by it. George and Ellen bought their house at the same time, twelve years ago.
Right around the time Mom died.
Part of me still likes Casey’s old house better, even though it was much smaller and not a fraction as fancy as this one. I fondly remember plenty of evenings sitting around in her living room, me reading through whatever she’d assigned to me that day, or helping her with research on cases, or doing home improvement and repair projects for her, things like that.
It was cozy.
Although, I can’t deny that, during college, being able to claim I lived here between semesters was pretty sweet, too. Name-dropping the exclusive neighborhood certainly gave me a cachet my classmates didn’t have.
Not that I used it to impress girls, because I didn’t date when I was in college. I was too busy busting my ass to get good grades and hold on to my scholarship.
And before long, I had no reason to date, because I had Casey.
I hit the button on my door clicker for Casey’s garage and pull my Jaguar E-Pace into the three-car garage, to the right of her Mercedes. She teased me because I didn’t buy a Mercedes SUV, but I got a good deal on the Jag, new, and that’s still a prestige brand.
I might not live in a fancy place, but once I passed the bar, I’ll admit I spent a pretty penny on my ride. Appearances are everything in law and politics, and that was one of the first lessons Casey taught me. I can’t be rolling up to a black-tie fundraiser in a twenty-year-old Chevy that’s seen better days. No one wants to pay an attorney who looks like he’s broke-ass. So, I spend money on my clothes and shoes, and on my car. They’re my uniform, I suppose.
Along with the Rolex Casey gave to me when I graduated from law school. I alternate wearing that with the Breitling she gave me when she first made this official with me. My mask to the world. I can hide a lot of anxieties and insecurities behind the insulation these trappings provide me.
I hurry inside, the smell of coffee brewing hitting me as soon as I open the utility room door. Her house is an almost perfect mirror of George’s, with only a couple of minor changes to the layout of the kitchen and some closets and bathrooms upstairs.
Casey’s not in the kitchen, so I immediately head downstairs to her basement, taking the stairs as fast as I dare so I don’t face-plant.
Sure enough, she’s already tackling the elliptical this morning. Her earbuds are in, and she’s likely blasting something with a high-octane beat.
I know she’s aware I’m there because her phone, which is propped in one of the two cup holders on the elliptical machine’s control panel, will have received alerts when I armed George’s alarm, when I opened his gate, opened her gate, and when I opened her garage door. So I drop to my knees on the yoga mat, bow my head, and wait.
I’ll kneel here until she’s done, or until she’s ready to acknowledge me.
Doesn’t matter how long that takes, either.
I close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic sound of the machine, her soft grunts and panting. It’s soothing to me and lets me set aside the real world for a little longer.
Shesoothes me.
She’s always had a way with me, and I’ve learned not to question the way things are between us, because it works for me. I trust her completely and always have. She’s never given me a reason not to.
This is another secret relationship I have, although it’s not nearly as scandalous as my relationship with George. While she’s older, and my boss, at least I’d get a wink and nudge from most guys for bagging Nashville’s most eligible cougar.
We could get in trouble at work but that would be the extent of it. It’d be a minor scandal, at best. The kind of scandal that would only give me extra cachet in this town while it could tarnish her image a little.
But we’ve been careful. Before George learned about us, only Ellen knew. Casey wanted someone else to know about us in case something happened to her. Casey has far more assets than I do, and she’s left a considerable amount to me in her will.
