Page 46 of Entwined

“It’s rainy and gray all the time, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I find it soothing. I used to believe gray was my color.”

“Gray is dreadful. No one looks good in it. But I do agree your wardrobe seems to need some work.”

“That’s not happening. Especially when you cash that rent check.”

“Hmmm… I think Mindy might be around your size.”

“Who is that?”

“Our landlord. Her new husband bought her a new wardrobe. She left everything behind. It’s all in a closet upstairs. It’s all high-end designers and good quality.”

“I would never. That’s weird and wrong.”

“Oh, I’m adding an addendum to the lease: you must be my wing woman at least twice a month and dress appropriately for the job.”

“Really? I’m a terrible flirt, can’t dance and hardly drink.”

She waves her hand, “Men will love your accent. You have a vibe about you. I can’t put my finger on it but if Ben Cross is coming around, he sees it too. You’re wild Jessie, barely tamed. The air around practically crackles with it.”

“If you say so,” I shrug. “Honestly, I’m taking a break from men. I’m just focusing on finding me right now.”

She rolls her eyes, “Twice a month. I need to get out. It’s been too long.”

“Sure. Maybe we can all go out this weekend? I’ll invite Ben.”

“Lovely,” she smiles warmly, placing a brass key in my palm. “Welcome roomie. We are going to get on splendidly.”

I smile, not wanting to hurt her feelings. We have nothing in common. I have no desire to social climb or find romance.

But she seems pleasant enough. After Gretchen, heck no one could be worse.

The next few months pass.

Tulips and daffodils sprung from the soil, brightening the gray with their bright blooms. But as the days grew longer, they wilted, petals falling to the ground one by one. Until the flowers of early summer replaced them.

Despite having nothing in common, Jecca and I have grown quite close. But I keep my secrets locked tightly within.

The last time I checked, Christos was in Africa rebuilding a war-torn village with some beautiful mystery woman smiling in every picture as she stood next to him.

The articles online always said she worked for him. But he’s Christos. I can’t believe a man with that kind of sex drive wouldn’t require a constant companion to see to his needs.

My fists clench.

I can’t stop it.

Even after all this time, I still hunger for him; miss him and part of me thinks I’ll always want him back. But not like it was before. I won’t ever relinquish my life up to him again.

I’m not willing to be his slave.

I want to be his equal.

But none of that matters when he’s never coming back. I might never get the closure that I so desperately realize I need in order to fully shut the door on whatever we were. I wish I could see him, just one more time. He knew. He knew every kiss; every touch was his last. He said his goodbye’s as he loved me hard and deep into the dawn.

The more time I’ve had to think about it, the more I realize I need closure in order to move on.

But then when I see his face in pictures, everything is so near in my mind and heart. Our time together at Exmoor when it was good, how he swore he’d love me forever and how much I loved him in return.

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