Page 48 of Adrift

She gets a cake knife and cuts three slices of the cake, one larger than the other two, placing them on the plates before closing the box and putting it into the fridge. She comes back with a bowl of blueberries and raspberries, placing a few on each plate.

She gives me the plate with the thickest slice, gesturing to the drawer behind her. “The forks are in there, if you don’t mind getting them for us.”

I pull three forks out, then follow her into the living room with my plate in hand.

Fred straightens, eyeing the two plates in Lynn’s hand. “I want that one,” he declares, pointing at the plate with a slice hardly a centimeter thicker than the other. I can’t help the giggle that escapes me, which earns me another chiding look from Lynn.

She hands him the plate before pushing back the uniformly white hair brushing her shoulders. “You are such a child.”

Fred ignores her, happily taking his plate and the fork from me before digging in. “Mmm. This is something.” He hums around another mouthful as I take my seat on the couch.

I’d called the nursing home a couple of days ago to see if they’d let me help out in the evenings, even though that wasn’t my scheduled time. They were happy to have me come in, telling me they were actually low on staff that day. So, I helped run meals to the various independent units throughout the property, introducing myself to residents and chatting with some as I dropped off their dinner.

When I brought a bag of groceries and another bag of dinner to Fred and Lynn’s unit, they recognized me immediately. We started chatting and before I knew it, I was telling them about my blog. I took a chance at asking if they’d let me document their story and surprisingly, they both said yes.

So, here I am, on my second visit with them–and my third evening at the nursing facility.

I’ve been making a conscious effort to be out of the house as much as possible as soon as Darian comes home. I generally mumble a quick recap of the day with Arman–what he ate, how he did, words he said–and then slip out of the house. Several times, I’ve seen an apology in Darian’s eyes. Several times, he’s tried to interrupt while I’m speaking, but I bulldoze past him.

I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t want to hear him express his remorse or tell me it was a big mistake. I don’t need him to say any of those things because his demeanor the day after we kissed said it all.

He’d practically run out of the room whenever I was in it or he’d mumble about checking on something before hiding out in his study for hours on end. He was back to doing that whole avoidance dance, so I figured I’d join him.

Two can tango, and I'm not a bad dancer.

If he wants to avoid me for the rest of the summer because I make him feel something–because I make him face his own desire–then that's on him. I don't regret our kiss. It was single-handedly the hottest moment of my life, and now, I feel like I'm starving around him.

I want more. God, I want so much more, but not at the cost of my dignity. Not at the cost of being treated as anything less than I know I'm worth.

I set my phone on the table and click the record button on my app before leaning back to look at Fred and Lynn. Fred is already done with his cake, giving me a satisfied and grateful smile. “I know I spent a lot of time talking about some of the other stories in the blog last night, so we didn’t quite get into everything–”

“Well, that and Fred fell asleep, having no regard for his manners,” Lynn supplies, side-eying her husband.

I laugh. “Right, that too. Fred, I hope I can keep you awake today.”

Fred smiles, winking at me. “Well, another piece of cake might help.”

“Absolutely not.” Lynn keeps her eyes on me, addressing the man beside her. “Now, let’s begin, dear. What questions do you have for us?”

The warmth that radiates between these two is unlike anything I've ever seen. Their banter and love for each other–despite their bickering–is so heartfelt and sincere, I wish I could be a fly on their wall all day long. This is what true love looks like. It’s what it feels like and it’s what we were born to find, I just know it.

I clear the emotion building in my throat. “Well, I don’t have a predetermined set of questions. I want this to be as organic as possible. Perhaps you could start with telling me how you two met.”

Fred slides his hand into Lynn’s and I watch her squeeze it back, turning her head to admire him over her shoulder.

“Do you want me to start, and then you’ll correct me like you always do?” he quips.

“I correct you because you exaggerate the truth.”

Fred mocks offense with his mouth hanging open for a second. “I merely give color to the gray parts of our story.”

“With you, there’s never been any gray.”

He slips an arm around her, squeezing her to his side. “Mrs. Cox, I do believe that is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me. This whole time I was convinced you’d married me for my looks.”

Lynn smacks his arm playfully, settling her gaze on me while I observe their exchange in awe.

Fred regards Lynn affectionately. “I met this wonderful woman almost at the end of my senior year of high school. You see . . .” he hesitates with a smile tipping up the corners of his mouth, “she was my English teacher.”

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