A Sulawesi Romance

Chapter 36

A/N: The image above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on the internet.

Boat's POV

"You didn't have to do that," my best friend Pitch protested when he saw me come into his house carrying two bags full of groceries.

"For as long as you are letting me camp out at your house, I should at least provide you some groceries," I said, setting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and starting to unload the contents.

Pitch helped me place the bunch of spinach and package of green beans and carrots inside the vegetable crisper of his fridge. I placed the packs of frozen shrimps and fish fillets and some more packs of pork chops and beef cuts inside the freezer. 

There was a square woven basket on one corner of the kitchen counter for the  garlic and onions and a large wooden bowl for the fresh bananas and oranges and apples on the kitchen island.

"Do these tomatoes and potatoes go into the vegetable crisper as well?" I asked Pitch, holding up the packages containing them.

"Yes, let me take care of those," Pitch said, straightening up from where he had been placing stuff inside his fridge.

"I'm guessing you just woke up and haven't eaten any breakfast yet," I said.

"You are an excellent psychic," he said with a smirk. He knew that it was easy for me to guess, seeing as he was still in his pajamas and his hair still all rumpled.

I put myself to work in the kitchen while he went to the bathroom for his morning rituals and to take a shower.

I was setting the breakfast table with the scrambled eggs and French toast and a platter of strips of crispy bacon when he walked into the breakfast room smelling of freshly washed hair. I was guessing that the shampoo he had used was a combination of wild herbs and fruit. I liked that kind of fragrance myself.

"Hey thanks for making breakfast," he said when he saw what was on the table.

"It was nothing," I said. "Would you like a glass of freshly squeezed orange or a cup of coffee?"

"None of those actually," he replied. "I prefer hot green tea. But hey, stay where you are. I will make the brew myself."

"Alright," I said, already reaching for a strip of bacon and loving the taste as I crunched it in my mouth.

"Did you want a cup of tea as well?" he asked as he brought out a box of tea bags from the kitchen cabinet.

I stood up from the kitchen table and walked towards the fridge.

"No, thanks," I replied. "Actually I always have a glass of orange juice with my breakfast."

Pitch laughed.

"Duly noted," he said as he plugged the electric kettle into an outlet near the stove.

We had a good chat over breakfast.

Pitch was careful to avoid the topic of Gun and his outrageous confession to me that night when I went to pick up some clothes and personal stuff from my room over at his mother's house.

I had spent countless hours thinking of how I had been so oblivious of Gun's presence in the house. I was guessing, and rightly so, that it was because my attention was focused on my wife so much so that I had forgotten that my wife had a grown up son. In fact her son, my stepson, was not too far from my age.

When Pitch and I parted for the day to go to our individual businesses, before going to my office, I sat in my car looking through all the photos in my phone. I found several photos with Gun in the picture with me and my wife. The expression on his face as he looked at me was unmistakable. He had an adoring expression on his face, except, at that time, I was thinking maybe he was just happy that he had a new father in his life because after his parents divorced he rarely saw his real father.

Gun was very good looking. There was no doubt about that. He had perfectly shaped eyebrows above attractive smiling eyes, a perfectly shaped nose and very sensuous well carved lips.

I banged my fist on my steering wheel making it give out a loud honk which must have startled  my auto technician because he came running out of the shop.

I made signs with my hands to let him know that nothing was the matter.

I slapped my face to put some sense into my confused brain. I surely was not starting to get attracted to Gun, my very own stepson.

I better start my work day, I told myself with firm determination. Forget him. Forget him, you dumbass, I told myself over and over as I stepped out of my car.

I was unlocking my office when my phone sounded with a text notification.

My heart spiked to a dangerously high level when I read the message on my phone screen.

Hi, this is Mr. Siwat, owner of the Sulawesi Island resort villa. Please come and pick up Gun. I have terminated  him from his employment at the villa and I have paid him for his services but he doesn't have enough money for his trip back to Bangkok.

I did not even know, I was not even aware that Gun had flown back to Sulawesi Island. He had not left any messages with me. Unless... unless he had left a note on my bedroom door back at the house.

I went back to my car and drove beyond the speed limit to my and my wife's house. It was eerily quiet, not surprisingly, since Gun wasn't there at all. He was back in Sulawesi Island.

I went straight to my room and found his note stuck to my door.

I have decided to go back to Sulawesi Island. Don't come after me. You have no more reason to come after me.

Guilty tears started to form in my eyes as I stood holding Gun's note and realizing how savagely I had rejected him without any thought as to how much it must have hurt him.

I made a quick call to Pitch telling him that I was catching the first flight to Jakarta.