An undercover cop on the brink of an investigation with far-reaching consequences.
A woman escaping a troubled first marriage.
An encounter in a dangerous part of New York City.
Could be a recipe for trouble or the beginning of something good.
Whate...
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Bucky
It didn't take us long to get settled into a routine at the vacation house. That first week we were there we drove to Bobcaygeon townsite and found some painting supplies for Jane, water colour mostly. We found them in the Home Hardware which seemed to double as the general store for the small town. I found that store to be quite interesting, actually, seeing all sorts of products that were ingenious and showing them to Jane. She would smirk, nod her head and move on to the next thing while I debated actually buying it, thinking of the uses I could make of it back in Brooklyn.
The town itself was bustling, with its mixture of permanent residents, summer residents, and visitors who had booked a rental through those "by owner" vacation rental websites. There was always something going on, a concert, a poetry reading, farmer's markets ... it was a relaxing lifestyle. Experiencing it with Jane was something of a revelation as to how easily we slipped into our relationship, and it was definitely a relationship. Of that, I was sure.
We both said it ... the I love you words. We both meant it as well. It wasn't just said during or after sex either. In fact it was the week after we got there. I was up first and started up the coffee; no matter who was up they would put the filter in the coffee pot, scoop the coffee into it, pour the water in the top and start the machine. That day I started the coffee maker then went over to the living room window and pulled up the blinds to get that first look at the lake. The sky had that misty gold glow to it as the sun had just risen a short time before. I stood there in my T-shirt and sweat pants taking it all in. Behind me I could hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and the pad of Jane's bare feet approaching me. Already, I knew the sound of her. Her arms snaked around my waist from behind and she kissed between my shoulder blades then moved to my side. Putting my arm around her I kissed the side of her head. Neither of us said anything for a while as we just kept looking at the lake.
"I love you," I said, meaning it with all of my being.
"I love you, too," she whispered, then tightened her arm around my waist. "Do you think it's real? Or is it just being here, thrown together so quickly?"
I looked at her, wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, her hair tousled, her face still sleepy looking and well before either of us got rid of our morning breath. She was still looking out over the lake then turned her eyes to me and they were so luminous, like they held the mystery of life within them if only I could stare at them long enough.
"Just because we're thrown together doesn't mean it's not real," I replied softly. "My other relationships that fizzled out were all filled with the excitement of new experiences together, typical couple stuff. This, what we have here, it's calm and I feel comfortable with you as if we've known each other forever. There's no need to play at being in love, because I am in love, very much in love with you."
We didn't even kiss; she just rested her head against my shoulder and we kept looking at the lake. The coffee maker beeped to signify it was ready and Jane pulled herself away, poured out two mugs, bringing me my black coffee while she had her double double (that's a Tim Horton's thing, I found out, meaning double cream, double sugar) and we sat curled up on opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other and touching only with our toes and feet. It was ridiculously normal.
