Page 53 of Triple Threat

Roan, on the other hand, was easy to love. Pragmatic, yes, but warm, caring, loyal, and so beautiful in his perceived brokenness. I wished, in some ways, that he could see himself through my eyes… he was so incredibly gentle and firm despite his infirmities and the more I got to know him, the harder it was becoming to walk away. He cared so deeply and I could see it every time he looked at me.

I swam laps, back and forth, and it was as though each man stood at one end of the pool from the other. Back and forth, back and forth, I went until I was breathing hard and no less confused than when I had first entered the water.

There was a click and a buzz and Roan’s voice came over a house intercom system.

“Tea will be served at half past the hour, Poppet.”

I stilled, treading water, chest heaving, and when I had half caught it, I made my way to the ladder out of the pool.

I toweled off and wrapped myself in the robe and sighed, arm muscles trembling with fatigue.

I was no less unwrapped from the two men than when I had entered the water, the gordian knot of my emotions and anxiety surrounding my current living situation drawing ever tighter around me. A strange, displaced torture that was at once unusual and familiar, filling me as I made my way back to my room, looking for a clock to tell me precisely what time it wasnowas I made my way.

The torture I was feeling over the two men who had crashed into my life was unusual in that I wasn’t so used to being lavished with attention. No, I was the forgotten girl. Just another orphan waif of Indigo City’s mean streets. A poor unfortunate soul who was used to going unseen and who, when I did manage to be seen by someone, was keenly aware of how much that person wished I could go back to being out of sight and out of mind. Sometimes, I wished I could go back to being unseen, too… except now.

The familiar part of these strange anxieties I was having was just that… the anxiety itself. I was used to being anxious and on guard for a variety of reasons, just now all of those reasons had been upended and drastically changed.

Before, it was where would my next meal come from? Would I find a dry place to sleep? If I got sick, what would I do? Where would I go? Now… I just felt like I should be doingsomething, anything to continue existing. My lack of having to do everything in my power to basicallysurvivewas leaving me at loose odds and ends and it was enough to drive mecrazy.

I didn’t know how to just… be.

I found a clock in one of the halls and realized I needed to hurry up. I had just enough time to shower and find something to put on to meet Roan for dinner and now I was looking forward to seeing him.

When I was around Roan, I had something to do… talk, watch whatever he was doing, justsomethingto fill that void that simply surviving day to day had filled.

I showered quickly, soaping and rinsing my hair, drying it which still felt like a strange habit to do, luxurious and indulgent, so of course I did it every time I showered. Dressing was another story. I paused at the open wardrobe, eyes roving over the fairy dresses and lingerie. I could always change back into the clothes Roan had taken me out in but…

I swallowed hard, realizing that itwasRoan.

Roan who chose everything for me… who obviously delighted in dressing me in all these pretty things, which yes, they clung in places yet flowed in others but the one concession I had to give each and every article of clothing that he had chosen? That despite leaving little to the imagination everything in this wardrobe was exceedinglycomfortableand felt so good against my skin.

My mind made up, I donned one of my secretly favorite nightgowns. Long, creamy satin. Glamourous, beautiful, and clinging in all the right places making me look like a nineteen-fifties bombshell.

I braided my hair over my shoulder and pinched my cheeks in front of the bathroom mirror and with a sigh, pleased with how I looked, I went to find Roan.

I found him in the big, formal dining room, setting a platter of finely sliced meat on the table runner, two places set, one at the head of the table and one beside it.

“Ah, there you are,” he said looking me over, a smile curling his generous lips. “Lovely.”

I blushed beneath the compliment and he limped my way, holding out a hand to me. I took it and he drew me into the room, the bank of floor to ceiling windows along one side providing a view of the lights of Indigo City glittering along the wavering surface of the Chesapeake. The lights of the bay bridge a steady line in the distance, a pearl necklace on the grand body of water’s bosom.

“Have you not seen the view from in here?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, not after dark, no…” I murmured.

“Ah.”

He stood with me, soaking up that marvelous view for a time. His touch, when it landed on my shoulder, was light, almost a caress. I looked up at him and he smiled down at me and murmured, “Come sit, before things get cold.”

“Sorry, right!” I laughed at myself and lightly shook my head hoping somehow to clear it.

Roan guided me to the seat beside his at the head of the table and pulled the chair out for me, I sat and he helped scoot me closer. I looked up to that fantastical view once more as he took his seat.

We’d never taken a meal like this… together, in the formal dining room, I mean. Usually, I was either served in my room or, once or twice, we had stood at the kitchen counter and eaten. This was a departure from that. Oddly formal, and it felt… different. His effort showing in gleaming silverware, platters, and fine China.

“This is all so beautiful.” I made it a point to compliment his efforts. I wanted him to know, Isaw him, not just his physical self but that he cared. I wanted him to know that I cared, too. His smile was plenty a reward and brought an answering one to my lips as he dished up some of the slices of duck onto my plate and laid an artful arc of cranberry-orange sauce over the neat little fan of slices.

A warm, red beet salad came next, and some lovely roasted fingerling potatoes. He finished the meal by pouring a bit of Pinot Noire into the waiting cut crystal wine glass in front of me.

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