Page 27 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
There’s still an hour or two until sunrise, and even though she never was a morning person when we were together, something told me Shae todaywouldbe.
I draw in more smoke from the blunt between my fingers.
All night, I’ve been thinking about her.
Tempted by that damn telescope.
Taunted, really.
So I moved from “sleeping” on the couch in the living room to the bedroom, and after hours of tossing and turning, I lit a blunt to slow my mind.
I don’t want to admit I’ve been sitting in this chair, waiting for a glimpse, but….
I might as well smile on my way to Hell.
I extinguish the joint in the bowl I’ve turned into an ashtray and grip the armrests.
Movement. Just a flicker in the other condo. I stand and head to the telescope without thinking of anything else.
I track her through the scope, my chest tightening as she shuffles across the open space and into her kitchen. Her black bonnet skews to the right, and her pink robe hangs open as she rubs at the side of her face.
Yep, still not a morning person, I see.
With her back to me, I can’t see what she does along the far wall in her kitchen, but I conclude that she’s made coffee when she turns around with a cup large enough for three servings.
She takes one step, then another, and then she’s in my direct line of sight.
“Good morning, Sweetness,” I murmur in the empty room.
I bask in the silence as she stands at the window, looking at the city below as she sips on her drink, the only movement the intermittent lift of the mug to her mouth.
I exhale.
My phone rings, startling me as it cracks the silence. Picking it up off the nightstand, I roll my eyes when I see it’s Axel calling.
“You got cameras in here?” I ask, not even saying “hello” or “good morning.”
Axel barks out a laugh, awaytoo loud laugh, which answers my question.
“If you wanted to see my dick, all you had to do was ask,” I throw back at him, joking.
“Man, fuck off,” he says, and I laugh—the first genuine laugh I’ve felt in weeks.
“But seriously,yes,I do have cameras, but only in the common areas and for safety. But you proved my hypothesis that you’re up watching Shae.”
I go silent.
“Aren’t you?” he drawls, and I grunt. He laughs even louder, so I pull the phone away from my face. When he calms down, I return to the call.
“Why are you calling me?” I ask, my eyes flicking toward the telescope like I’ve been in the desert for a week and the instrument is a glass of ice water.
“You’ve got a meeting in a few hours,” he says, bringing me back to the call.
“Right,” I say, not knowing what he’s talking about. “With Kenyon?”
This could have been a text message.
“No, with Shae.”
