Page 155 of Ewan

Her telling me to be careful with people’s feelings did nothing for me.

And I didn’t have the time or wasn’t in the right disposition to give her the scoop on my failed marriage.

To tell her how I wanted to have a long marriage like hers but didn’t have the right man for that.

Besides, I was still basking in the afterglow after a long night of satisfying sex, and my attention was still sidetracked by what had happened in that motel room.

We didn’t sleep at the motel last night.

We had sex, ate our food, and had sex again.

And again.

At five in the morning, he drove me home.

Luckily, he dropped me off a block away. I asked him to do that. For one, I didn’t know whether Joachim was still in front of my house or not, and I wanted to avoid a scene and have Ewan witness it.

He respected my wish, but something inside me told me he wasn’t exactly joking when he said he’d take my ex-husband out.

Maybe he wasn’t straight out considering killing him, but for sure, he wanted to give him something to sob about.

So, it all worked well.

I’m sure my neighbor knew what time I’d returned home when we had our little chat in the afternoon before leaving for my next job in Manhattan.

I was pet-sitting for a lovely lady on the Upper East Side. The only way Ewan agreed with my traveling to Manhattan by myself––I don’t know what I’ll be doing when he and I will be over––was to use his driver and the car he’d sent for me.

I couldn’t say no to his proposal, so I traveled and arrived in style before finishing my work a few minutes ago.

Ewan and I will meet up at a café on Lexington Avenue at five.

Before getting there, I’m browsing a few stores and picking up something for Mrs. Eisenhower.

A pair of comfy slippers, and a hand cream set.

I have them gift wrapped before I pick up a Christmas card to go with it.

Later, I walk into the café and sit at the table, writing a few words for her before eating an avocado toast with smoked salmon and sipping tea.

Five minutes before five, I check the time on my phone.

He and I never talk on the phone.

We exchanged numbers, which was nice, but other than using our phones in case of an emergency, we never chatted on the phone.

It works for me.

I had a long phone relationship with my ex before we got married. So he kind of ruined that for me.

Maybe we’d been in touch too much.

Maybe we weren’t a good fit.

Maybe I needed to pay more attention.

The gray daylight withers away as the lampposts’s warm glowing spreads over the sidewalks.

Absently, I look at the people walking up and down the street when a dark silhouette catches my eye.

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