she was running at the moment, trying to forget how much she missed him and how she longed for him to at least acknowledge her. Fully comprehending how pathetic her feelings were, she found herself frustrated by the fact that she had already begun to develop feelings for John. But how could she not? In all ways he was the absolute perfect man, so no matter how often she told her heart not to feel, it did anyway. It was much too early to call it love, but it was the deepest level of infatuation she’d ever known. And she knew she was merely inches away from falling head over heels in love with him. How could she have been so stupid?
When she returned to her condo, John was there waiting. Kicking her shoes off by the door, she moved in to the living room where he sat. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, you.” While he waited for her, he sat and looked around her place. It was very like her, warm and bright, clean and inviting. He loved the things she had chosen for her new home. As much as he wanted to spend more time there with her, his schedule had been hectic. Many times he considered calling her, but with no event or dinner to schedule, he wasn’t quite sure it would be welcomed. Their agreement was pretty specific, and he would not infringe on her private time.
“What’ve you been up to?” he asked. He often wondered what she did when they weren’t together. They had never discussed her datingduring their arrangement, and as far as he knew, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Since meeting her, he hadn’t had a date and had no intention of it. Complications were usually the end result anyway. Urges came, and though he could’ve easily made a call to alleviate his frustration, he instead kept himself busy with work. After a while, it was as if that were no longer an option. He felt it would be disrespectful to Chelsea, and he found no need of other companionship. While he and Chelsea were not romantically involved, just having her around caused him to feel a little more like his former self, the man he was before Tracy died.
“Not much.” She sat on the wooden trunk that served as her coffee table. “I’ve just been piddling around here.”
“Piddling, huh?” He loved the way she talked. Though most often she spoke with the typical Midwestern accent, occasionally, she would throw out a country term, sayings that would remind him of his mother.
“Yes, piddling.” She grinned. “How’ve things been with you?” There was no way she would ask why he hadn’t called. For one thing she knew she had no right, and for the other, she wouldn’t dare voice such a pathetic question. Finding him there waiting for her made up for the days he’d been absent.
“Busy. Too busy.” Having seen her so little in the past weeks, he regretted not making more time. “I was wondering if you were available to do a little traveling.”
Smiling broadly, she said, “Of course. Where to?”
He leaned in and placed his hands on her knees. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
They discussed several possibilities before settling on Australia. He warned her that it was the beginning of their winter, but she was not at all deterred. Having been to Australia a number of times himself, John was able to help her decide what to pack. It was settled, they would leave the next morning.
A t dinner on their third evening in Sydney, Chelsea found she could hardly eat her meal. Seated in the most unique restaurant she had ever been in, located in the southern sail of the Sydney Opera House, she could do little else but gaze out at the spectacular view of the night skyline. Having never seen a real opera, she had assumed she would not like it. Instead, she found she loved every moment of the production, even when she could barely understand what was happening. It was moving, nearly magical.
Watching her closely while she looked out at the night sky, John sensed she was far away in thought. Without question, she had enjoyed the show, but her current
When she returned to her condo, John was there waiting. Kicking her shoes off by the door, she moved in to the living room where he sat. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, you.” While he waited for her, he sat and looked around her place. It was very like her, warm and bright, clean and inviting. He loved the things she had chosen for her new home. As much as he wanted to spend more time there with her, his schedule had been hectic. Many times he considered calling her, but with no event or dinner to schedule, he wasn’t quite sure it would be welcomed. Their agreement was pretty specific, and he would not infringe on her private time.
“What’ve you been up to?” he asked. He often wondered what she did when they weren’t together. They had never discussed her datingduring their arrangement, and as far as he knew, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Since meeting her, he hadn’t had a date and had no intention of it. Complications were usually the end result anyway. Urges came, and though he could’ve easily made a call to alleviate his frustration, he instead kept himself busy with work. After a while, it was as if that were no longer an option. He felt it would be disrespectful to Chelsea, and he found no need of other companionship. While he and Chelsea were not romantically involved, just having her around caused him to feel a little more like his former self, the man he was before Tracy died.
“Not much.” She sat on the wooden trunk that served as her coffee table. “I’ve just been piddling around here.”
“Piddling, huh?” He loved the way she talked. Though most often she spoke with the typical Midwestern accent, occasionally, she would throw out a country term, sayings that would remind him of his mother.
“Yes, piddling.” She grinned. “How’ve things been with you?” There was no way she would ask why he hadn’t called. For one thing she knew she had no right, and for the other, she wouldn’t dare voice such a pathetic question. Finding him there waiting for her made up for the days he’d been absent.
“Busy. Too busy.” Having seen her so little in the past weeks, he regretted not making more time. “I was wondering if you were available to do a little traveling.”
Smiling broadly, she said, “Of course. Where to?”
He leaned in and placed his hands on her knees. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
They discussed several possibilities before settling on Australia. He warned her that it was the beginning of their winter, but she was not at all deterred. Having been to Australia a number of times himself, John was able to help her decide what to pack. It was settled, they would leave the next morning.
A t dinner on their third evening in Sydney, Chelsea found she could hardly eat her meal. Seated in the most unique restaurant she had ever been in, located in the southern sail of the Sydney Opera House, she could do little else but gaze out at the spectacular view of the night skyline. Having never seen a real opera, she had assumed she would not like it. Instead, she found she loved every moment of the production, even when she could barely understand what was happening. It was moving, nearly magical.
Watching her closely while she looked out at the night sky, John sensed she was far away in thought. Without question, she had enjoyed the show, but her current
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