His eyes remain on mine as he stands straight, the time away from him making me forget how tall and domineering he is. His fists curl at his sides, the ropes clung into his palms as he breathes nothing but silence.
I want to ask him where he’s been.
Why is he here now.
Why was I tied to the bed.
But before I have the chance to formulate any sort of sentence in my head, he drops the ropes on the bed, turns on his heel, and walks out of the bedroom door.
I should be confused, but I’m surprisingly relieved, and I let out a long pent-up breath. I’m grateful for the second to gather myself. To make sense of this.
I make a quick glance around the room, taking it all in. The first thing I notice is the expansive window that offers a breathtaking view of the pristine water just outside the home. A beach separates the structure from the lapping water, but it almost feels like the house is right on top of it.
The next thing I notice is the theme of the bedroom. It’s all white with white oak furniture. Not a note of personal decorations. Is this where he’s been staying this whole time? While I’ve been suffering up in the cold, he’s been hanging out in the tropics?
There’s also no trace of someone living here. No clothes on the floor, not a single thing on top of the dresser, nor is there anything on the nightstands. It’s a completely blank canvas.
Irritated, I move off the bed.I’ve been changed into a pair of silk shorts and a matching tank top. For some reason, that makes me feel violated. I know he was my fiancé, but he no longer has the right to see me without clothes or change me for that matter.
Wanting answers, I make my way through the bedroom door and out into an open floor plan. A white kitchen is off to the left near what I’m assuming is a front door, while to the right, there’s a living area and dining room. Clean and crisp, the tile floors are made up of large cream squares. The walls are painted as well, with nothing to decorate them, leaving the view of the ocean to be the main feature.
And as I scan the humble yet modern furnishings, I notice one very important thing—Keller is nowhere to be found.
He’s getting really good at the disappearing act.
Hands on my hips, I examine the clean sophisticated space that doesn’t seem like it belongs to Keller because he’d never decorate like this. He’s dark, a mystery. His place would be made up of furnishings as black as his heart.
I rub my wrist, which is sore from the ties, and make my way to the sliding glass door where I spot Keller on the beach, tugging in a boat by a rope. I open the sliding glass door and step out into the warm, sun-soaked air.
God, that feels good.
I’ve missed this kind of weather, where it feels like Mother Nature warms you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. It brings me back to my days in Miami. Waves lap at the sand, casually crashing into the rocks on either side of the small beach. Seagulls squawk up above, circling a spot over the water, and the lightest of breezes flies through the bushes, rustling the branches together to offer a melodic soundtrack to the already beautiful setting.
Where the hell am I?
What the fuck is going on?
And then a manly, irritated grunt falls past Keller’s lips, snapping my attention back to the here and now. He drapes the rope over his shoulder and walks toward me, the boat following him until it’s finally on the shore. That’s when he hops into the boat with impressive athleticism and picks up two large boxes, one with each hand. He jumps out of the boat and walks up to the house, moving around me as if I don’t even exist.
Uh . . . what the hell?
Not one to back down, I storm right behind him, and when he sets down the boxes, he turns around but is met with me.
Hands on my hips, I ask, “What the hell is going on?”
His eyes fall to my chest, then to my legs, and all the way back up to my face. His perusal is unwelcomed. “What do you think is going on?”
“Uh . . . I don’t know,” I answer, annoyed. “Seems to me like you brought me to the little fishing paradise you’ve been hiding out in.”
He slowly nods. “That’s what you think?”
“What else am I supposed to think? In case you don’t remember, Keller, you left me on our wedding day. Left . . . me. So color me shocked that I’m standing in some beach house with you right in front of me.”
“Good to know,” he says, pushing past me and pissing me off even more.
I jog in front of him and place my hand on his chest, my hand colliding with what feels like stone. Well, someone was able to work out over the past three months.
“That’s all you’re going to say?Good to know?What the fuck, Keller? Why am I here?”
