Page 74 of Staying for You

Okay, that’s pretty much exactly what a relationship is, minus going out on dates. But if I’m being honest, I do feel like we go on dates. They’re just different than what has become the standard of dinner and a movie. Our dates consist of hanging out and having picnics in front of the fireplace, watching movies in his apartment, or challenging each other to games of pool.

We don’t see anyone else.

We’re secluded from the rest of the world and I wonder if that’s why what we have works. If we were out in the public or dating in the traditional sense, would we get along as well as we do? If others invaded our little sanctuary, would things change?

There’s no answering to anyone else about the fact that we’re having sex — lots and lots of sex — but aren’t in a committed relationship. And it makes what we have… easy. Too easy. So easy, in fact, that I already feel myself not wanting to shake anything up by leaving.

It’s the end of March and even though there’s still a hint of winter hanging in the air and on the ground, I see the beginning of spring all around us. Our walks outside don’t require a full snowsuit like they once did, though I do still have to wear my boots as the ground is muddy and sloppy.

“Did you get the stain out of your jeans after you fell the other day?”

“I think so. Luckily Owen had some good stain remover and we were able to wash them quickly.”

She laughs and I know she’s picturing me sliding down the hill flat on my butt when I slipped on some mud. Owen laughed. Hard. He tried to catch me before I went down, arms windmilling as I tried to stop myself from falling, which ended up meaning he got whapped in the side of the head and fell down right behind me. We were covered in mud and couldn’t stop laughing, much like the time I nailed him with my sled.

“We’re always meeting like this,” he said to me, a glob of mud inexplicably stuck to his cheek.

“Maybe I’m bad luck.” I laughed.

He didn’t agree. He gave me a sloppy kiss that ended with the tips of my hair trailing across the muddy ground. But getting cleaned up together in my tiny shower was so worth it.

“Okay, now that I know you’re in a good place, there are two things I need to talk to you about.”

“Uh oh.”

“No worries. First, I want you to enjoy the last week you have with Owen. And promise me that you’ll keep an open mind about where it ends with him.”

“Where it ends?”

“Let me rephrase that.Ifit ends.”

“It has to,” I remind her. “I don’t live in Minnesota, Gretch. I live in Tennessee.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Think about it, promise me that, okay?”

“Okay?” I really don’t even know what I’m promising but I can definitely promise that I’ll be thinking. Because that’s all I’ve been doing since Owen and I started spending time together. Though, maybe that was inevitable. It’s not as if there are a lot of options for him when it comes to women at The Escape. Maybe it’s just a matter of convenience.

“Okay, scratch that. Stop thinking.”

“What?”

“I can practically hear the wheels turning and it’s not pretty. What are you thinking?”

I pour myself a cup of coffee and add a touch of creamer to it. “That maybe being with Owen isn’t because of me at all. I mean, there’s no one else here for either of us—"

“Stop talking. That’s not remotely true and you know it.”

“Do I, though? When have I been a good judge of character when it comes to men, Gretchen?”

I have a seat on the deck, curl up, and pull a blanket over my legs, sip on my coffee, and look out at the lake. “You’re a good judge, you just chose to ignore it.”

“Maybe,” I sigh. “What was the second thing?”

“Stay calm when I tell you this, okay?”

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