Page 105

When we got to the house, Daniel carried the groceries inside and set everything on the kitchen counters.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course. Do you need to go anywhere else today?”

I looked around the kitchen before shaking my head.

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Just call if you need anything.”

“I’ll definitely let you know.”

Daniel left a few minutes later, and the front door closed quietly behind him.

I started putting everything away and organized the refrigerator. When I finished, the refrigerator looked completely different. It finally looked like a home. I stood there admiring everything for a moment before thinking about dinner.

Maybe I could make the steaks tonight. Then I remembered Richard hadn’t actually said he was coming over. I hadn’t heard from him since yesterday.

I closed the refrigerator again. The steaks could wait until tomorrow. Or whenever Richard came back.

I wiped down the counters even though they weren’t dirty, loaded the few dishes from the sink into the dishwasher, and wandered into the living room.

There was absolutely nothing else to do.

I turned on the television, but nothing looked interesting. I thought about taking a nap, but I wasn’t tired enough to sleep. The clock on the wall said 3:15. The entire afternoon was still ahead of me.

I walked toward the windows and looked outside. The beach stretched in both directions beyond the deck, almost completely empty except for a couple walking far enough away that I couldn’t make out their faces. Getting some fresh air sounded better than sitting around.

I went to the bedroom, changed into shorts, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and headed outside. I left my shoes beside the steps and walked barefoot across the sand.

Living near the ocean was another thing I’d always wanted. When I was eighteen and still living in Boston, I used to imagine what my life would look like once I finally got the fuck out of there. I never had some detailed plan. I only knew I wanted something different.

I wanted to live somewhere warm and beautiful. I wanted enough money that I never had to look at another bill and feel sick. I wanted a nice house, nice clothes, and a refrigerator full of whatever food I felt like buying.

I wanted to wake up every morning and decide what I wanted to do instead of having somebody else decide everything for me. More than anything else, I wanted freedom.

I kept walking until the beach house looked smaller behind me. The water rushed over my feet before pulling back into the ocean, and the cold made me smile as I stepped farther into it.

If eighteen-year-old me could see this life, she would probably think I’d fucking made it.

I lived on the beach now. I had a man who wanted me. He wasn’t some loser who couldn’t keep a job or some drunk asshole who thought buying dinner meant I owed him something.

Richard was completely different from those men.

I stopped walking and looked out across the water. The wind pushed strands of hair across my face while the question I’d been avoiding finally worked its way into my thoughts.

Why wasn’t I happier than this?

The thought irritated me almost immediately. I had plenty of reasons to be happy. I had everything I’d ever wanted.

Maybe I was bored.

That explanation made more sense.

I’d spent years working nights, and suddenly having entire days with nowhere to be felt strange. Normal people probably had hobbies to fill their time. I could find something interesting to do. Maybe I could start painting. The idea almost made me laugh because I had absolutely no artistic ability.

Cooking would probably be easier. I’d bought enough groceries to practice, and maybe eventually I’d actually become good at it. Richard might start coming over for dinner more often. Maybe he’d start staying longer too.