Page 16 of I See Red

Turning to peer out the window, the car stops at a large metal gate, an emblem welded where the two doors meet. It takes me a moment to realize it is a smiley face before they open, now becoming two halves as the motor rotates. Looking at T, I can’t help but just laugh.

“That’s odd. I guess we aren’t the only smiley-face lovers.” Pulling through, we head down a long gravel road, twisting and turning through the tall pines surrounding us. Alongside the drive are full-grown honeysuckle plants stretching as far as I can see. The smell in the air is what I imagine heaven is made of. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more beautiful entrance in my mind. A feeling of familiarity hits me, but I can’t put my finger on this feeling or why I have it. Pulling up to a circle drive, we land in front of the most beautiful black-stained rustic cabin, consisting of multiple pitches, yet as simplistic as one would hope for a weekend getaway. The turrets placed on each corner draw my eyes in immediately, bringing modern, rustic, and vintage together seamlessly. Beautiful flower beds surround it, filled with the most beautiful hydrangea bushes; blues, pinks, purples, and whites all melting together like the works of a painting I’d find in Olive’s art studio. Behind them sits the most stunning porch, which looks as though it is made from reclaimed barn wood. The kind of porch you hope squeaks a little because it’s been worn by the elements, more importantly, enjoyed by its occupants. A porch with stories to tell, lessons learned, and memories that last a lifetime. “You ready, Ives?” he asks, pulling me from my trance of endearment. Antonio opens the door, allowing T to exit. Turning around, he reaches his hand out to me, in which I oblige.It’s so cold.Instantly, I’m transported back and feel like a kid again, and we are back at S.M.K., making our way to the most beautiful home I have ever seen handin hand; he watches me take it in, my words trapped in my chest, forgetting I am in a half damp robe. I am left completely speechless, holding my childhood love’s hand as I look around, feeling his gaze never leaving my direction in the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“This is the most stunning place I’ve ever seen, Tayden. Where did you find it? AirBNB?” I question, my eyes not leaving the beauty before me. Vines cascade up the walls of the home, wrapping around the trunks of trees turned into columns supporting the tin roof that rests over the entirety of the porch. Suddenly, I see the holy grail of porches. A beautiful bed swing hanging off in the corner suspended by the thickest of rope, with the most beautifully embroidered pillows. I could totally see myself reading a book there, amongst other things. It reminds me of the bed and breakfast I frequently visit in Cornish. I feel a squeeze on my hand.

“Something like that. You want to see the rest of it?” he asks.

Looking up at him, like a kid meeting Santa Claus at the mall for the first time, I mutter, “Yes, Yes Please!” I’m not sure what the fuck is going on, but for once, I am just trying to take it all in and enjoy the moment, completely throwing all logic out the window. Guiding me to the side of the house, Tayden points off into the distance, his smile ear to ear. “Look!” he exclaims. Following his direction, I glance over to see the most beautiful pond, or should I say a small lake, with nothing but trees surrounding it, including maples, birch, and oaks whose leaves will be painted in the most beautiful colors by little fairies come fall. A singular dock sits off in the distance, accompanied by a small boat swaying with the wind. A wooden platform rests in the middle with furniture I can’t quite make out. “I… I just don’t even have words, T. It’s everything I ever dreamed a cabin should have and be.”

“I know, Ives. Trust me, I know.” His tone, velvety and sincere. Wrapping his arms around me, he encases my face in his hands before pulling away, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s go inside and see if the pictures do the real thing justice, shall we?” Following me, we head for the doorway when my feet freeze before it, looking back at him, then back to the masterpiece in front of me. The door is red. Getting closer, it’s not just an ordinary door; no, it’s more than that. It has what appears to be honeysuckles hand carved throughout its entirety, mixed with dainty skulls and smiley faces with ivy running through them. Confused, I stutter in my words, “I… I have always wanted a red door. Come look at this, T. The engravings are stunning. It’s like I was meant to come here. I’d say fate is to blame, but I am certain it is you who brought me here, not fate.”

His hand brushes across his face, pulling on his lips, looking for words.

“Amor, fate is all we have ever been; purpose is what we are trying to find, and I hope behind that door, peace becomes a place you visit frequently.”

Tears sting at the back of my eyes, his words crashing into the depths of my soul. Peace is not a place I frequent often, nor have I really ever truly grasped, but I could certainly find it here for the next few days.Cracking the door, he leads me in. Instantly, my emotions spiral in so many directions, and I am further overwhelmed, if that’s even possible. The architecture in this home is stunning, like it was pulled straight from my dreams. Reclaimed timber beams float above us from the living room to the kitchen, engraved with something I can’t quite make out, adding to the rustic feel of the home. The kitchen counters are made from butcher block with a deep farmhouse sink that sits off the back wall. A large bay window overlooks the back of the property onto the pond. To the left is the mother of all stoves, a fully restored vintage Glenwood. My laughs escape me due tolack of words. “What the actual fuck?” My hands weaved in my messy bun, turning to Tayden, “Whoever built this is a fucking genius and has exquisite taste. I… I have nothing.” Rushing over to him, I throw my arms around his neck, rocking back and forth as I continue glancing around. Looking up, my eyes find his. “I never want to leave this place. Itis everything, the perfect piece of solitude.”

“Come here. I want to show you something else I think you may just love. When I saw it in the photos, I just knew I had to bring you here.” Hesitantly, I follow him like I did as a kid through the darkness of the laser lights, and we are on our first date again, getaway or whatever. That’s when it hits me that we are. In all of our years together, in our own way, we have never been in one another’s presence physically since we were kids besides well-yeah…I don’t even want to think about that night right now. Dragging me to yet another room, he covers my eyes from behind, directing me where he desires me to be before we come to a stop.

“Ready? You may fucking hate it, but here goes nothing,” he taunts. “One…two…three…”

Opening my eyes, before me, one with the master bedroom, sits a beautiful antique claw foot tub on a reclaimed wood pedestal with fully glass exterior walls reaching from the bottom of the floor all the way up, connecting to the highest pitch of the roof seamlessly. Plants completely cover the floors all around, their vines laced way up to the tip of the ceiling. Ivy and wisteria plants trail down from the ceiling, hanging over the antique tub. Three large, tall candle chandeliers peer up through the greenery. It’s something out of a movie. For the next three days, I will certainly be the Belle of this home.

“It’s unreal, isn’t it?” Hand over my mouth, I turn to him, my brain struggling to keep up with my lips.

“T, I want this place. No, scratch, that I need this place. This home is me!” Pausing as I look around in complete disbelief, I continue, “I’m in real estate, for fuck’s sake. How was I never aware of this property? I need to know everything about it. There’s Wi-Fi here, right? I need to get on the computer A.S.A.P. and pull everything on the MLS and history of this property. T,I want to buy it. Is that crazy? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have the money for it.” I chuckle in hysteria, his eyes rolling with pride. “God, I love you, Ivy.” Pulling me in, our eyes lock. “I love you too, T.”Every part of me wants him to kiss me right here and now in the magic of this home; instead, I get a slap on my ass followed by, “I got one more thing to show you. Follow if you dare,” he taunts.

“Oh lord, what’s next, a sex dungeon?” I joke, although, I mean, would that be a terrible thing? My desire to undress this man and explore his body like I’ve had the honor of doing to his mind all these years is unmatched, especially here right now, in this moment, in this majestical place.

“Better, Mi Amor.”

“Well, call me a good girl and sign me up, sir.”

“Is that an invitation?” he snaps.

“Nice try, but no. However, this is an invitation to snag me a drink before we continue?” My sad puppy dog eyes on full display. Unable to resist, in a moment’s time, I’m all alone, taking in all the architectural details as he leaves me to grab us a drink. Every inch is full of details that I personally understand and would create myself. More than buying this home, I need to hunt down the architect, builder, and designer because I needed them in Boston ten years ago. This type of talent can’t exist without access to them for our clients.

“Apple cider mimosa with a maple syrup and a cinnamon sugar brim.”

“Wow, I’m impressed; all the ingredients of my favorite drink are not only stocked but chilled. Impressive.” I tease, taking a sip.

“Lead the way, man of new mystery.”

Being around T always turns me into a ball of nerves. I’ve never quite put my finger on exactly why. The best I’ve come up with is my lack of confidence in being good enough for all the man he is and isn’t in my brain. My words tend to fall short around him. My sentences become broken, while my remarkable sense of humor constantly attempts to mask it all. There have been times in my world when my sense of humor is all that allows others to connect to me, when in reality, it is merely my shield, my weapon if you will, to revert others from truly desiring to know me. The mask of Ivy Sage Rutledge.

Following behind him, we head down a hall back towards the front of the house, stopping in front of a shelf covered in old Dickens and Shakespeare books alongside other vintage titles I love. Looking back at me pulling one down, the sound of gears churning fills the room as the door opens. Stepping in, a cylindrical room welcomes us. Red velvet covers the walls that peek through from behind the black bookshelves lining the entirety of the room from top to bottom. Three vintage black chandeliers suspended from the tip of the ceiling at different lengths directly over a large bed suspended by cast iron chains with red ivy weaved through them. The base of the bed is red, contrasting the black floors eloquently, with black velvet coverings and alternating red and black pillows gathered at the center. Every shelf is covered with thousands of books, not a single spot left empty as far as I can see.

“This is fucking beautiful. I feel like I keep saying that, but at what point does it stop?” I laugh, twirling in a circle like I’m a princess, and this is my kingdom, taking it all in. “How does one even get up there?” I point to the ceiling when it hits mestraight in the gut. A version I have never seen of the Sistine Chapel covers the ceiling’s peak with gold accents. One side is so fucking dark and sinister, transitioning seamlessly into light and love, like how I remember seeing it all those years ago.It’s breathtaking, a beautiful twist.

“Look behind you.” He gestures toward the most beautiful gold spiral staircase I hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m fully convinced whoever designed this, Beauty and the Beast was the first dark romance they fell in love with.” Taking a sip of my drink, I begin climbing the stairs, his footfalls behind me. The scent of vanilla and leather fills my nostrils, creating images of him and I on that bed, doing more than reading, into my inner thoughts, starting a war between logic and desire. My body is telling me that desire is winning. Reaching the top, I look around, trying to figure out how it moves. At the risk of sounding like a dumb blonde, I just ask, “How does it move?” Reaching across me, his breath warm on my neck, he presses a button, engaging the staircase. The gears begin turning, and we are merely a breath in the air floating through heaven. Making our way around, I press it again, bringing us to a stop. Looking out, I start reading the titles in front of me, familiar to the ones I have in my home. Authors of the likes of Dyan Layne, Dani Antoinette, Shae Ruby, D. Vessa, Jescie Hall, J.D. Midnight, S.J. Ryder and many, many more.

Looking back at him, something feels off. I feel sick, like I am going to pass out. Memories trickle in, and something tells me he isn’t telling the whole story of this trip. “Tayden, I own all of these. In fact, I think I dreamed of this place once. Am I losing my mind?”

“You’re not crazy, see that book over there, the one with the yellow spine?” He points across the room.

“Yeah.”

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