confessed that I was seeing Cody. The other end of her phone was eerily quiet and then she said, “Be careful.” Wow. Thanks for being so ominous. That’s great advice coming from someone who raised me and always has a million unsolicited words to give. Only two when I truly need advice. She’s worried about the wedding and what everyone will think if it goes belly up. Again. Lainey Rosemont cancels another wedding! I can see the email subject lines now. My family back in Russia will flip their shit. Again. I can’t dwell without having an anxiety attack and running full speed back home, so I knock on his large, mahogany, wooden door instead. It’s the kind of door you see in movies. Like maybe a sex dungeon resides on the other side or some sort of portal to another world. Laughing to myself, I agree that it kind of is a portal. One to the past. I get to be whoever I want when I step inside.
Cody opens the door wide. His hair is tousled, his five o’clock shadow must be like a twelve o’clock shadow, his T-shirt hugs every rippling curve, and for the love of all that is holy, he has a dish towel tossed over one shoulder. It triggers so many memories that it causes me to close my eyes and catch my breath. Definitely a portal, I decide.
He leans against the doorjamb and makes no move to wave me in. “Are you hungry?” he asks. I remind myself of the present and all that has transpired since those memories. A lot. Too much. Not enough. Everything. Right now the only thing I can do is place Dax in a box, albeit a comfortable one, in the corner of my mind and focus on the present, which just so happens to also be my past. Go ahead and make sense of that. I take a deep breath and lock that shit tight. I’ll leave the key right here on this front porch for later.
Cody eyes me up and down, his gaze flicking to each body part methodically. The way he looks at me is intoxicating. “Straight to the point, I see,” I reply. Peeking around his massive body, I glimpse inside his new world. It’s a beautiful, spacious home, but it looks as if he’s just moved in. The gray walls are bare, the dark polished wooden floors are pristine, unmarred even by footprints, and the furniture looks like it came directly from a European showroom. This house isn’t lived in and that’s just at first glance.
Cody notices my appraisal. “I prefer my apartment in the city. It’s nice to have a place at home, though. Maybe you could help me spruce it up. Use your finer skills, you know?” His smile is predatory. It holds equal parts of love and destruction. I want to taste it. His NYC apartment is just as nice, but he’s right. He spends more time there. I immediately wonder why. “Come in,” he says, opening the door wider and ushering me inside. Yep, this shit is definitely expensive European. I mentally tally what this sole room alone must have cost to furnish. Walking slowly through his foyer and taking in every detail I can helps to calm my nerves. I let my purse flop down onto a gothic style bench, slide off my ballet flat shoes, and follow him into the kitchen where I smell breakfast cooking.
The kitchen is beautiful. As my gaze flutters from one marble inlaid detail to the next, I realize why I deem it perfect. It is my perfect kitchen. The one we started planning when we got engaged; from the brand of the range right down to the length of the large island. This would be my kitchen if he didn’t take him from me. Now it’s his. There are so many complicated components that have always hovered around our relationship. We do what we’ve always done. We ignore them completely. When Cody died, I thought my secrets would be buried with him. He is the only one to know exactly how and why I came to Virginia Beach all those years ago. My life has morphed into something less sinister since those days, but the secrets I keep, and what I’ve caused, eat away at my soul. That’s another reason I refused to see him when he returned, although I could never admit it to Chloe. Guilt. It’s heavy.
I try to make small