grand scale of yours. I think it will be to our advantage and Nick and Elaina will figure out, too late, that it’s not to theirs.”
“Uh-huh. Oh…Michael…this is too much.”
I move away from him, take the stairs two at time, and find refuge in the living room by warming my hands in front of the fire. “God, I love this house,” I say with a tinge of regret. I whirl around, realizing he knows this. “Was this part of your seduction all along? Get me into this house? Knowing full well that I would find it impossible to say no to you?”
“You want me for my house?” Michael teases me now.
“That didn’t come out right,” I say. “I love the house. I have to have this house. You … you are trouble , Dr. Shaw.” I give him an exasperated look.
“Come out to the beach,” Michael says.
His seductive tone is impossible to resist. I watch him go.
He opens the French door to the backyard and begins to make his way down the gravel path that leads to the shoreline.
I follow him, mindless, reeling from the events and revelations of the past few minutes. I love the house. I love the patio. I love the yard. I love the landscape. I love the trees. There’s a sandy beach right there. The waves lap in this methodical rhythm.
Damn him. Why is he doing this to me? I love this place.
It would be different enough to embrace and the same enough to feel right at home. The kids would love it. We could be a family right on this sandy shore on the very first day. I can already imagine the nights we could cook out on the beach and roast marshmallows or dig in the wet sand for clams. Oh, he’s making this so hard to turn down. I glare at him as I make my way down to the sandy beach, where he stands, watching the waves gently lap the shore. He glances sideways at me.
“What?” he asks in that innocent voice of his. “What’s wrong, Ellie? It’s too perfect; isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.”
I stare at him as a shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds and shines down on his golden head, illuminating his remarkable face. He smiles at me.
We’re in this strange dance. Unplanned. Unforeseen. I’ve changed partners after an almost lifetime, but I can’t even remember Robert’s face any longer. All I see is Michael’s. Is it just me? Or, does Michael experience the same thing. I don’t miss Robert because I have found a better way to complete my life with Michael.
“Do you miss her?” My hands move out in front of me, imploring him to tell me the truth because I have to know.
“I don’t.”
His honesty brings a weird connection between us that passes through us both at once. I see this incredulous expression cross his features when it happens. I smile wider, witnessing this magic.
“I don’t miss him, either. It’s strange; isn’t it? Why do you think that is?”
“Because you’ve always been standing right in front of me,” he says. “And now that I can touch you any time I want; I’m not lonely anymore. I’m complete with only you, Ellen Kay.”
I am the master of words. I am editor. The writer.
Yet, it is Michael who has said the words that perfectly describe what I feel. Blame it on the cancer; blame it on the pregnancy, but now I start to cry. This man moves me to tears with his words.
“Well, I can’t say no to you, now.”
“No, you can’t.” Michael pulls me into his arms and kisses me.
I feel this cloak of happiness form around us as the shaft of sunlight envelops us both. This is the magic of Michael and me.
Then, I have this flitting unspeakable thought: How long can it last?
≈ ≈ ≈
Chapter 8 Good & Bad
T hings have been moving at a kaleidoscope pace. Things change, but with the slightest movement, they change again. Good and bad. The good. I have healed from my surgery in that my incisions have healed up, but my pain remains. The bad. My doctors are vexed by this turn of events. My left side is still too sore to fully use. The bad.
Finally, both
“Uh-huh. Oh…Michael…this is too much.”
I move away from him, take the stairs two at time, and find refuge in the living room by warming my hands in front of the fire. “God, I love this house,” I say with a tinge of regret. I whirl around, realizing he knows this. “Was this part of your seduction all along? Get me into this house? Knowing full well that I would find it impossible to say no to you?”
“You want me for my house?” Michael teases me now.
“That didn’t come out right,” I say. “I love the house. I have to have this house. You … you are trouble , Dr. Shaw.” I give him an exasperated look.
“Come out to the beach,” Michael says.
His seductive tone is impossible to resist. I watch him go.
He opens the French door to the backyard and begins to make his way down the gravel path that leads to the shoreline.
I follow him, mindless, reeling from the events and revelations of the past few minutes. I love the house. I love the patio. I love the yard. I love the landscape. I love the trees. There’s a sandy beach right there. The waves lap in this methodical rhythm.
Damn him. Why is he doing this to me? I love this place.
It would be different enough to embrace and the same enough to feel right at home. The kids would love it. We could be a family right on this sandy shore on the very first day. I can already imagine the nights we could cook out on the beach and roast marshmallows or dig in the wet sand for clams. Oh, he’s making this so hard to turn down. I glare at him as I make my way down to the sandy beach, where he stands, watching the waves gently lap the shore. He glances sideways at me.
“What?” he asks in that innocent voice of his. “What’s wrong, Ellie? It’s too perfect; isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.”
I stare at him as a shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds and shines down on his golden head, illuminating his remarkable face. He smiles at me.
We’re in this strange dance. Unplanned. Unforeseen. I’ve changed partners after an almost lifetime, but I can’t even remember Robert’s face any longer. All I see is Michael’s. Is it just me? Or, does Michael experience the same thing. I don’t miss Robert because I have found a better way to complete my life with Michael.
“Do you miss her?” My hands move out in front of me, imploring him to tell me the truth because I have to know.
“I don’t.”
His honesty brings a weird connection between us that passes through us both at once. I see this incredulous expression cross his features when it happens. I smile wider, witnessing this magic.
“I don’t miss him, either. It’s strange; isn’t it? Why do you think that is?”
“Because you’ve always been standing right in front of me,” he says. “And now that I can touch you any time I want; I’m not lonely anymore. I’m complete with only you, Ellen Kay.”
I am the master of words. I am editor. The writer.
Yet, it is Michael who has said the words that perfectly describe what I feel. Blame it on the cancer; blame it on the pregnancy, but now I start to cry. This man moves me to tears with his words.
“Well, I can’t say no to you, now.”
“No, you can’t.” Michael pulls me into his arms and kisses me.
I feel this cloak of happiness form around us as the shaft of sunlight envelops us both. This is the magic of Michael and me.
Then, I have this flitting unspeakable thought: How long can it last?
≈ ≈ ≈
Chapter 8 Good & Bad
T hings have been moving at a kaleidoscope pace. Things change, but with the slightest movement, they change again. Good and bad. The good. I have healed from my surgery in that my incisions have healed up, but my pain remains. The bad. My doctors are vexed by this turn of events. My left side is still too sore to fully use. The bad.
Finally, both
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