This anxiousness I’m feeling isn’t going away.
I’ve played a round of golf, taken a yoga class, and now I’m back in my cabin feeling as edgy and uncomfortable as the day I arrived.
I hate goodbyes. I’m half tempted to write a note and leave tonight.
But I can’t.
Because the other half of me needs to be with her. Needs to bury myself inside of her and absorb whatever it is she’s giving me.
One more time.
No, as many times as I can. Over and over again. Like a man who’s going off to war.
God, I’m fucking pathetic.
Not once has she asked me to stay. Not once since that night has she dropped a single comment or hint to make me feel guilty for leaving her.
Physically, she’s a dream come true. Which probably sounds crazy, being as she’s about four weeks away from giving birth, but she’s creative. And surprisingly flexible. She’s also a giving little creature. Best. Head. Ever.
If that was all, I’d still suffer for leaving her.
The trouble is. It’s not. I love talking with her. As in sharing and listening and laughing and all that crap. She’s constantly surprising me– in a good way. She makes me laugh.
We’ve made the mistake of developing this into something that resembles a relationship.
Today, however, I’m a mess.
I can’t leave yet but I need out of this cabin. I’ll go by the office. See if she wants to drive to that diner again tonight. If we stay in, cooking, sipping wine, and making love I’ll probably do something stupid, like propose.
And I won’t do that to her. This relationship, as incredible as it is, has one major flaw.
Me.
That fact alone timestamps it with an expiration date. Because I’d have to leave her behind and eventually I’d break. I’d fall into old habits. I know how weak I am when I’m out there. I get tired. I get horny.
I lock the door to my cabin and head down the path.
No matter how many times I’ve seen her, this excites me. To hell with walking, I break into a jog. Chad waves as I approach the elaborate building.
“Hey, Mr. Forrester!” He’s about to climb into an upscale SUV. “If I don’t see you tomorrow, I wanted to say g’bye! Thanks again for the jam session. My mom’s been telling all her friends about it. You’d think I was the one going on tour.” The kid rolls his eyes. I had Chad come over on his day off and we ran through some of his songs and then a few of mine. The kid’s got talent.
“It just might be some day.” I wave him over and reach into my wallet. Along with a C note I hand him a card. “Will you do me a favor?”
Chad looks intrigued, but eager to do my bidding.
“Let me know when Charlie has the baby. Send me a text. I just want to know how everything goes.” I pull off another bill. “And if it’s a boy or a girl.”
The kid’s not stupid. He nods. Oddly enough, I feel better.
He returns to work, and I skip every other step till the automatic doors swoosh open.
Charlie doesn’t see me as she seems to be checking in another guest. I slip into the gift shop and impulsively decide to get something for Squirt.
I don’t like to think about it, but I’ve realized I’m never gonna meet him. We still don’t think he’s turned, and I can’t help worrying about it. Charlie says she’s not going to dwell. It’s out of her control, but I know she’s freaking out inside.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye.
And then the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
