You seem to be in better spirits today.
I'm catching up. I find the change in routines tough.
You've always been so adaptable, I don't know anyone who weathers changes better than you.
I roll my eyes since my head is turned away from him. I'm watering the roses while he stands two feet behind me, mostly likely with his hands in his pockets, still in pressed business casual because he had a meeting this morning. I stayed in bed, listening to Caleb's car purr out of the shared driveway, and then listening to the one on my right exhale all of his tension out in one breath. My eyes were heavy and I closed them against the sun but not before a ten-thousand-degree kiss glanced off my temple. If ever there were a boy to match with a season, Lochlan wins summer hands down. He doesn't mind the heat, he hardly notices it. I am reduced to ice and a sheet and a complaint that drops off my lower lip only after I have succumbed to sweet miserable slumber.
But I couldn't stay asleep. I want to wander around soaking up the sun and sorting out my brain. I want to think soft and daydream up new stories to write and learn how to live in the moment instead of in the hope for the future, riddled with holes and treacherous sections and the ever-present Fear of the Unknown. The sunshine helps push that back, always. The light makes everything better, food, lazy early morning sleep, and time.
I turn finally, since Caleb seems to be waiting for something. He is standing with his hands in his pockets, in one of his summerweight bespoke suits, and he is smiling at me.
Don't roll your eyes, princess. I only know what I see. Where is everyone?
Sleeping.
He rolls his eyes, catching himself and laughs. You're such a morning person.
I nod. I'm still waiting, holding the hose, wondering what he wants.
What's wrong, Bridget?
Oh, honesty, right. You said things would be difficult for me, if you came back early. You're back early. What should I expect?
His eyes flash. Composure may come easily but control is fought for, to the death. I see this and remind him of his pledge toward honesty as well. He flushes ever so slightly and to my surprise, he gives in.
Difficult for you in that I will apply pressure.
Do you really have to be so formal all the time?
You seem far more comfortable this way.
Ah. I see. So...pressure.
Pressure. Blunt and to the point.
Okay then. I wait for more but he stops talking. This is crystal-clear. Um. Have a nice morning. I give him one of my fakest fake smiles and gather up the hose to return to the reel around the side of the house.
When I come back he's gone.
