Chapters (57)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Part One
- Claudine
- Zara
- Henry
- Zara
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Part Two
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Part Three
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Zara
- Claudine
- Zara
- Henry
- Part Four
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Part Five
- Claudine
- Henry
- Henry
- Zara
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Zara
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
Another hour of Scotch and watching the old ski flick Downhill Racer. The local station played it all the time. It was a favorite of his. He’d stopped skiing after high school, could no longer stomach the scene it had become. But watching Robert Redford conquer the slopes was exactly what he needed to forget he was waiting for her until finally he heard the key turn in the door. Then the clicking of her heels as she walked from the door to the little bench. She was taking off her shoes, probably rubbing the arches on her feet. His drunk confusion turned to slow-motion panic. Where had she been?
The keys must have fallen out of her pocket, because they clattered on the floor. The thought of her anger, that way she could get, made him bury deeper into the couch. Had he done something to make her mad? Want to avoid him? Somehow she could switch around an entire situation with a sigh and make Henry feel like he was the one who’d failed her. It was one of her best tricks, the one he most feared. It was probably all a misunderstanding. Maybe he’d heard her wrong on the phone. That must be it. He had been wrong. Their celebration was going to be tomorrow night. Sometimes he was not great with details. Henry let his arm fall to his side and his fingers grazed the coolness of the hardwood floor. He patted about. There it was. Expertly, he lifted the Scotch glass to his lips without moving his head and tossed back the last of the Edradour.
There she was. Smiling and shrugging out of her coat, leaving it in a pool on the floor.
“They surprised me at work with a party.”
“Why didn’t you call?” She was staring at the empty bottle next to the couch.
“Thought we were saving that Scotch.”
“Thought we were celebrating your real estate license,” he snapped, immediately regretting it. He hadn’t meant to.
She let it hang, then softened.
“Let’s celebrate this weekend?” she said. “Steve and I have client meetings the next few nights. But let’s go to Mezzaluna on Saturday. You and me.”
Then she was gone and he heard the water in the shower turn on.