Mari laughs and crawls back into bed. “You’re anthropomorphizing,” she says. “He’s just repeating what I said about saying ‘I love you’ first.”
Hearing those words again sends pulses of joy blasting through me. “If you say so.” I pull her down to me, peeling the robe back like gift wrap as I kiss her.
Squawk!
“You’re not that good!” Leonard shouts the words with disturbing glee, and I look up to see he’s dancing on his perch. “Not that good.”
Mari laughs and presses a palm to my chest. “For the record, you’re echelons above good.” She slips her hand down, stroking me under the covers while holding eye contact. “And this is most definitely not a small thing.”
“Not with you touching it like that, it isn’t.” I’m surprised to feel myself thickening again, though I shouldn’t be. Mari affects me like no woman ever has.
I roll her onto her back, cupping her hip as I look into her eyes. “Should we send the bird out of the room so we don’t give him an eyeful?”
She glances over my shoulder. “What do you think, Leonard? Should you be banished for sexytimes?”
He squawks and flaps his wings. “Sexytimes! Sexytimes!”
Mari laughs, breasts skimming my chest as she pulls me down to brush my lips with hers. “Close your eyes, Leonard,” she says between kisses. “And don’t repeat anything you hear.”
An hour later, I crawl out of bed and tug on my jeans.
“Where are you going?” Mari’s curls are tousled, and she looks like a woman who’s been thoroughly ravished.
I contemplate crawling back in bed, but I’ve got stronger urges at play. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Those puny bites at the event were just glorified appetizers.”
She laughs and rolls over with the sheets clutched to her chest. One corner slips down, revealing the top of her breast, and I rethink my culinary plans. “Sounds fantastic,” she says. “How can I help?”
“You can keep the bed warm.” I hunt for my T-shirt, then decide to skip it. “This will be a naked meal in bed, so be ready.”
“Yes, sir!” She throws me a mock salute as I force myself to trudge out the door and down the hall to the kitchen.
Perusing the contents of her fridge, I consider what to make. The options are sparse, and I find myself wondering if she eats all her meals at the café or one of the food carts. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But homecooked meals are my jam, so I get busy chopping slices of ham I find in her cold cut drawer. There are eggs and a little nugget of cheddar, so I set out to make omelets. I’d kill for some green onions or tomato, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I’m just about finished when a phone rings in the bedroom. Sound carries in these cabins, so I hear Mari fumbling to answer.
“Hello?”
A long pause.
Then a gasp. “Oh. Oh my. Can you hang on a minute?”
There’s a scrambling of footfalls, and I picture her bounding out of bed. A chill runs down my arms, and I lower the heat under the omelets. “Mari?”
Moving down the hall, I slip into the bedroom and find the bathroom door shut tight. Her voice echoes from the other side. “It is actually an emergency.”
I touch a hand to the door, wondering how long this might take. It’s none of my business, and I swear I’m not eavesdropping. I just need to know if I should keep the food warm.
But as my hand bumps the door, it swings open to reveal Mari huddled on the edge of the tub. She’s got the sheet clutched around her, and her eyes go wide when she sees me.
“God, I’m so sorry.” I step back in horror. “The door just opened and—”
“It doesn’t always latch.” She scrambles to her feet, looking frantic. “I’m sorry, it’s a private call.”
“No problem, I’ll just—keep the food warm.” I back toward the bedroom door, conscious of how wild-eyed she looks. “Everything okay?”
It’s a stupid question, since everything is clearly not okay. Just a guess, but shrinks probably deal with all kinds of secret stuff. I’m backing out the door as she shakes her head, then nods, her head moving in no pattern I can interpret.
“Everything’s okay.” She grips the sheet and moves toward me. “Wow, um—these walls are so thin. Will you excuse me?”
Before I can react, she bolts past me and runs into the hall. I’m not sure where to go, so I scan the floor for her discarded robe. I can at least hand it to her before getting the hell out of her space.
But Mari’s running for the back door. “No!” She shouts into the phone. “Please hang on. There’s something urgent we need to discuss.”
She darts outside like an animal evading capture. As she slams the door, I stare at it for a few beats.
What the fuck just happened?
I shouldn’t go after her; I know that. And it’s a warm spring night, so at least she’s not freezing out there. I hope.
Leonard’s watching me, curious what’s happening. That makes two of us. I step toward his perch, wondering what goes through that bird brain.
“Is it a bad sign when the woman you’ve just slept with runs outside naked afterward?”
I don’t expect a response, but Leonard cocks his head. “Bad sign!” he shouts. “Bad sign!”
“Thanks. That’s…helpful.”
He shuffles sideways on his perch and squawks again. “Bad sign!”
A shiver snakes down my spine, but the smell of food jerks me out of it. That’s why I can’t leave. I race to the kitchen to find the omelets done, so I turn off the heat and keep them both covered. Now what?
From the kitchen window, I see her standing at the edge of the back deck. The outside walls of these cabins are well insulated, a necessity with high desert temperatures. I can’t hear her voice, but I see worry lines etched in her forehead.
I glance down at the omelets and feel my appetite wane. I could slip out the front door. She clearly needs privacy, and it’s better to leave her to her cabin. But leaving requires me to walk right past her, and won’t she think I’m spying?
Dragging my eyes off the food, I glance out the window again. I’m surprised to feel a chill ripple through me and remember I’m not wearing a shirt.
And then I remember the reason for that. Something tells me we won’t be getting naked again. Not for a while, anyway.
I watch Mari, studying the creases in her forehead. Her hand clenched tight around the knotted sheet between her breasts. Another shiver seizes me.
All is well. I will survive. Each experience helps me grow.
The ridiculous words float through my brain, the ghost of a memory. Where did I learn that?
All is well. I will survive. Each experience helps me grow.
Oh. I remember. A mantra, one the marriage counselor taught me at the bitter end. I was frantic and desperate and certain my marriage was circling the drain.
It was, obviously. The therapist knew that, even if my dumb ass hadn’t figured it out. He taught me to breathe and say the words softly to myself.
All is well. I will survive. Each experience helps me grow.