case, I think it would be best if we say good night, now.”
I grab my bowl; there are two pieces left. I laugh, and take one. “Here. No point leaving one piece left.” She grins and takes it. “Now, I’ll say good night. See you around.”
I don’t look back, just take my bowl and the empty bottle and she goes inside.
Again, I wonder if I should tell her I knew Adrian. That Adrian gave me his last book. But how do you start that conversation? When’s the right moment? In his letter to me, he specifically said she wasn’t ready yet.
Damn you, Adrian. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You should’ve picked someone else.
I don’t even know what this is. Other than two fucked-up, broken people living next door to each other.
Watercolors & John Denver
For the first time I can remember since Adrian died, I manage to sleep. Maybe it was the full belly, for once. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was…well, I can’t even say conversation because I didn’t really talk with Nathan all that much. It was just a shared meal between friends. But I have to admit that it did something to soothe the yawning gape of loneliness in me.
So, I fall asleep quickly, and I sleep in. It’s…well, there are no clocks in the cabin, on purpose I think, so I have no clue what time it is. Midmorning, judging by the sunlight streaming in the windows. I get out of bed slowly, lazily. Change into, well, not pajamas, but loungewear, you might call it. Cozy, soft leggings, a T-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. Barefoot. I stare at the coffeemaker on the counter in the kitchen, which seems to mock me.
Adrian used to find it hysterical that I was so bad at making coffee. I’ve never understood it myself, but I’ve long since accepted it as a fact and learned to live with it. Mainly because I always had Adrian to make it for me, or coffee shops.
Now, out here, I just have to learn, I guess. Finally.
I attempt it—remembering Adrian’s formula. Two scoops of grinds per ounce of water. Not too coarse, not too fine. Add water. Turn it on.
Simple.
Only, I must have over-ground it or miscounted, because when it finishes brewing, twenty minutes later, it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife, so black and so strong you could strip paint with it.
Dammit.
Exasperated, I go out onto the porch, half wondering if I could somehow persuade Nathan to make me some without having to come right out and ask.
I find, sitting on the porch in front of my door, a large green thermos, like my dad used to take hunting on the weekends. There’s no note, but it’s full of Nathan’s amazing coffee.
Anyone can make coffee, but there is, as he said, an art to making good coffee. And this? It’s the best coffee I’ve ever had. I’ve had Italian espresso pulled by master baristas in world-famous coffeehouses, and this is just…magnificent. Bold, but not overpowering. I add a little sweetener, stir it up, sit on the porch and sip.
His truck is gone.
I refuse to let myself wonder where he is—it’s no business of mine.
I leave my coffee to cool—it always drove Adrian nuts that I like to let my coffee cool off of scalding. I head up to the loft and peruse the books; I choose a Lee Child thriller. Something different—I usually read romances or something similar, easy beach sort of reads. My job is stressful enough that I don’t want to be stressed by my pleasure reading.
But now, everything is different. So maybe it’s time to change things up a bit.
I sit on the front porch and dive into the world of Jack Reacher, and find myself enjoying it way more than I thought I would. And just like that, hours have passed, and my stomach is rumbling.
I’m feeling too lazy to prepare anything involved, so I make a smorgasbord of snacks, and keep reading.
The sun shifts, and now it’s beating directly onto the porch, and I get hot. Sweaty. The inside of the cabin would be cooler, but I’ve spent nearly every minute of the past year inside, and I just…I want to be outside.
The water looks cool, inviting. Why not?
I change into a bathing suit, a plain one-piece that I tend to wear for real swimming rather just lounging on the beach. I don’t think any of my bikinis would fit at the