The Bone Collector

6

"Power cut!" I exclaimed at the stove as Miguel and I finally got around to making dinner.

Miguel quirked an eyebrow, looking lost and I realised I had spent more than a few minutes talking to my inner monologue. I was back to thinking about work and how to deal with the missing body. I took a moment to appreciate the god-like man standing shirtless in my kitchen, chopping parsley for the tabouleh and couscous salad. I shook my head to focus my attention back on my problem.

"I can trip the fuses to the cold lockers for about 8 hours, health and safety protocols dictate the bodies need to be buried or cremated within 24 hours." I explained what I had been thinking about before my outburst. "There's some deadly pathogens that can incubate in bodies if they aren't kept cool enough."

"So...you could say he was disposed of and it wouldn't raise any red flags." He nodded looking impressed. "That could work."

"It would have to be just the fuses though. A full power outage in the room kicks in the generator." I said as I went back to checking the chicken kievs I was cooking.

I heard his soft footfalls before he placed his hands on my hips and kissed my neck. I was beginning to get used to his spontaneous caresses and kisses, I even looked forward to them. I leant back into his embrace as he swayed us to imaginary music, until the timer went off and I grabbed the oven mitts. I plated our meals as he looked in my wine fridge for a pairing.

"Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay?" He asked as he held two bottles up.

"Chardonnay, that was a great year for Australian wine." I commented as he placed the Penfolds bottle on the table.

"Have you been there?" He asked as we began to eat.

I nodded before swallowing my mouthful. "Nestor would fly me out to wherever he was stationed if I was missing him. I was very fortunate to have seen so much of the world. Most of these were picked up on our trips." I said as I jingled my charm bracelet.

"I was with him when he picked the Maple Leaf in Toronto. I always wondered who the lady was that had him picking out jewellery." Miguel smiled as he held my hand on the table.

We had finished eating but were enjoying the bottle of Chardonnay as I recalled the countries I had visited. Miguel had wanted to travel but after his father died, his own aspirations were put on hold to take over the family business. It made my heart ache to think he hadn't experienced all he wanted, for all the money he had it was something that couldn't be bought.

The bottle was empty and the sun had well and truly set as we sat on the couch together. I was nestled into his arms as the film version of The Count of Monte Cristo played. I knew the film off by heart so I watched Miguel's face from beneath my lashes. He was so engrossed in the film I don't think he noticed what had captivated my attention or the goosebumps that travelled my body as his fingertips drew mindless shapes across my arm.

The film ended happily with Edmond and Mercedes finding each other again and the truth about her son, Albert's, real father coming to light. The family stood together as the credits began rolling and I saw it was almost midnight. With a yawn and a stretch I stood up and took our empty glasses to the dishwasher.

"Are you staying?" I asked as he followed me and helped tidy up.

"I wish I could, I still have work I need to do." He sighed. "Another night, promise."

Eight weeks of hearing that promise and I stopped believing it. Every evening, without fail, he would show up and unload the burden that rested heavily on his shoulders. It was domestic bliss - we would prepare meals together, often getting sidetracked with feverish kisses leading to mind blowing sex. Later, he would choose a novel and lay his head on my lap as I recited the words of the classical literature. I no longer asked the question that left me disappointed, instead I accepted this was the most I would have of him. I would just have to be content with that and grateful for getting any time at all.