CHAPTER 19
Before I take a shower I decide to waste sometime in my bedroom balcony, doing nothing but meditating the fresh air and smooth sunlight oozing through the calm turquoise sky with cotton-like clouds that steals my breath away. I fail to stop thinking of my life from this point onward.
How am I going to coexist with Patrick when I go back home? My mind gets occupied with thoughts and the idea of preparing for divorce stands strong in my head. But will he let me go easily? I can't imagine opening a lawsuit against him just to reclaim my freedom.
"We'll see, Mia. We'll see." I sigh heavily and release the handrails that I’ve been leaned onto.
I'm thirsty so I head straight downstairs where I find Red in the kitchen, to my utter surprise.
I swallow tightly as he regards me with a blank face, still in his sweatpants and T-shirt as before.
"Good that you're here. Sit down and have breakfast," he says articulately and I discern he's been cooking.
My eyes gleam when I see a plate of French omelets and toasts on the table. Without glancing at me, Red grabs a kettle and pours some freshly made coffee in two mugs. He then stalks toward the fridge, mutely.
Is this the last breakfast he'll ever make for me? I can't explain the harrow in my heart at the thought of losing these precious moments I’ve come to experience within forty-eight hours or so.
I don't think twice as my feet lead me toward Red speedily. In nanosecond I fling onto his back and hug him from behind, my arms tight around his stomach. As always he tenses and I'm too emotional to free him.
"Mia," he breathes, his voice startled.
"Just a moment, Red. Please don't say anything," I beg him, my eyes shut at the feel of his body this close to mine. It's ethereal and I wish I could feel it every day of my life.
Red acquiesces by slowly shutting the fridge door, postponing whatever he was about to take. I hear him releasing a soft breath, and his chest relaxes as he starts rubbing my arms smoothly.
"I don't want to go.” I try my best to not cry but unfortunately my tears are quite stubborn— they slide treacherously down my cheeks.
What am I doing? Why am I so okay being vulnerable around this man? Am I really in love with him?
Love? No, Mia, you can't be in love with him. You shouldn't allow that at any costs! It won’t be good for any of you!
"I don't know what to say, Mia," Red mutters in a low, discomfited voice. He slowly takes ahold of my hands and parts them so he can easily turn around.
I move my head back as he faces me, his eyes mirthless. My hands linger about his waist and his reach for my face, and he put it between his big palms, his eyes bored deeper into mine.
"Don't think too much of it," he tells me. I blink at him, bemused. "You'll be fine, Mia. You're a strong woman."
"But I don't want to be strong," I rebuke stubbornly. "I want to be free and weak just as I've been in these two days of being here with you." Desperation in my voice makes me very infantile right now.
Am I even making sense?
Red smiles gently, tugging my hair behind my ears. Leaning his face closer, he kisses my forehead with delicacy that my body unfurls susceptibly. I close my sight and his thumbs wipe my tears away.
"You'll be fine, Mia." Red wraps his arms around my body, pulling me closer, tighter. I melt in his strong, engulfing brace. "I promise," he whispers, and somehow I feel inclined to trust his words.
I know it's an empty promise. How will he make things fine for me?
"Red—" I open my mouth to say something but he suddenly stops me by another kiss on my lips, that makes me succumb to him instantly.
I devour the moment with everything I got, kissing him back with passion as though my survival depends on it, and that fire in him is as wild as ever. His tongue twirls with mine strongly until we're breathless.
Overwhelmed, I drop my head on his chest and he hugs me once again and I feel loved. What the hell! My every fiber is alarmed. I don't know why I easily feel all sorts of things like a fool. I need to forgo the word 'love'.
"Come, let's have breakfast," Red tells me after a monument of time spent hugging each other without saying a word.
"I told you not to make breakfast." I'm not ready to stop hugging him.
He chuckles lightly. "I knew if I didn't you were going to skip breakfast. It's what you always do when you're upset— you stop eating."
"Huh?" I pull back quickly and gaze up at him, my face frowning. "How come you know so much about me?" I narrow my eyes at him.
His lips twist into a tiny smile. "Three months of being next to you almost every day," he says.
Beetroot red is the color of my cheeks.
"No, you're nosy." I remark and he bursts into pretty giggles.
"You're too predictable, Mia, that's all," Red replies, and somehow we manage to restore the smiles on our faces. "Now sit and eat!" he orders, his tone condescending in millisecond.
Jeez! Daddy Red is back.
"Okay, sir." I give him my best smile and follow his lead.
When it's finally time to leave, my heart sinks deeper into the pit of sadness and homesick. I’m standing beside the car as Red emerges from inside the house carrying his black duffel bag. He locks the front doors, his back tense even from a distance.
I drink in the beautiful sight of him, nonetheless: all black from the light V-neck sweatshirt to his plain, slim-fit jeans and boots. He's the most breathtaking man I've ever come across. Could this be the only reason I'm smitten? My rueful mood persists behind my smile.
"Ready?" I ask him. He nods, his eyes on my feet. "I'm not wearing heels," I mutter, staring at the same snickers he made me wear the day we arrived.
A smile touches his sullen lips. "You're still beautiful no matter what you wear, Mia. The most beautiful," he replies, his eyes glimmering as he watches my simple attire of black washed out jeans and a white T-shirt.
I flush despite the lingering tears I'm trying to dissipate. "Let's go," I breathe. If I stay a second longer I wouldn't want to leave.
"Shouldn't you sit at the back?" Red queries when I hold the front door. I sigh deeply and whirl around to face him, my gaze admonitory. "Mia, you know you're still my boss and—"
"Later, Red. Don't make me sit alone over there." My voice comes out pleading, something dreadful tightening my chest. "And just so you know, the boss can sit anywhere she wishes."
"Okay." Red nods, and I can tell he's not in his best mood either.
Not even the highway breeze can make me sleep as we drive back to Portland. It's been an hour and we haven't spoken a single word to each other. I want to talk to him, but his pensive face is enough to bring aversion.
I hang my head low toward the window and pretend to be asleep. Que Sera, Sera! I decide to follow mom's precious advice whenever I'm afraid of the future. Whatever will be, will be— my mom's tender smile appears in my head.
"Mia! Mia!" Red's voice jolts me awake. Flashing my eyes open, I'm astounded to find his face closer to mine, no seatbelt holding his torso. "Are you okay?" he asks, worried.
"Yeah," I mutter, wiping the beads of sweat on my forehead. What's going on? Red is staring apprehensively at me. "What? Did I do something?" I'm panting.
"Um . . . No," Red answers, but I don't think he's being frank. "I mean, you were talking in your sleep."
"Huh? What did I say?" Panic strikes in me, praying that I didn't say anything weird . . . or vulgar?
Red smiles feebly. "Nothing much. We're in Portland now."
My eyes fly toward the surroundings outside the car. Fuck, we're back! I glower mentally at the sight of metropolitan buildings around the 6th Avenue— our car halting at the traffic lights.
I know in ten minutes or so I'll be back to the enormous house that scares the shit out of me. I'm already missing my little cabin in the woods. I suck in the air as Red pulls out of traffic upon the green lights.
"You asked if I still love him," I blurt out of the blue. Red glances at me sharply. "During dinner, you asked if I'm still in love with my husband."
"Yes," Red replies and resumes his gaze on the road. "But you don't need to answer it if you don't want to." His knuckles turn ashen as he grips the steering a bit tighter than necessary.
"Things between us are no longer the same as before," I continue with a deep breath. "Each time he gets close to me I wanna take a step farther from him." Now the idea of sharing the bedroom with him turns me nuts.
Red's eyes are back on me, his mouth tight. He seems to want to speak but he doesn't speak. And suddenly my phone buzzes in my shoulder bag, breaking spellbinding stare between us.
I don't rush fishing my phone out, and by the time I hold it in my hand the call has ended. I frown instantly when I learn it's from Patrick, most probably trying to make sure I've left Astoria.
"Who is it?" Red asks, scowling at my crispy face.
"Who else? Just someone who calls the shots." I'm about to throw the phone back in the bag when a text arrives.
*I'm boarding the plane, will be home by tomorrow. I miss you baby.
How do I get out of this mess? My heart tightens and I'm as sure as hell that it's going to be a horrible ride of my life.