Love and trusting, p.16
Love and Trusting, page 16
We remained intertwined in that silent embrace, the room standing still around us, bearing witness to my raw vulnerability.
I whispered. "Seefa," my voice thick with emotion, “We're on to a new adventure.”
Her soft purr was all the encouragement I needed.
The hum of my phone cut through the quietude of the evening. I picked it up to see Joe's name flashing on the screen. I answered, his voice, albeit tired, bringing an instant smile to my face.
"Evening, Em," he greeted, the strain from his long day evident in his tone.
"Another late one?" I inquired, picturing him amidst mountains of legal papers and thick case files.
"Seems like it's become the norm these days, even on a Sunday,” he replied with a sigh. "Preparations for this case have been intense. How's the packing coming along?"
I looked around at the scattered boxes and the curious eyes of Seefa peeking out from behind one. "We're making progress. But Seefa's definitely sensing the changes. He’s been extra attentive, almost as if he’s trying to figure out why his cozy spaces are disappearing into boxes."
Joe chuckled on the other end. “He’s smart. But speaking of changes... this trial, Em. It might stretch on for weeks. I'm just hoping, really hoping, it wraps up before you get here."
There was worry in his voice. "Joe," I began, trying to offer some solace, "I know how much this means to you. This is your stepping stone. I want to be there for you. Maybe knowing you have me to come home to at night will make it all a little easier."
He sighed, “I’m definitely looking forward to that part. It's just the timing, you know? This is our start, and I want to be there, completely present when you arrive. Not lost in legal briefs and courtroom drama."
I could feel the weight of his stress, even through the phone. “I’ll be too busy taking over your house anyway.” I giggled, trying to lighten his spirit. “You got this, Joe.”
He chuckled, "With you and Seefa in my corner, how can I lose?"
"Exactly," I grinned. ”You know, I've been thinking a lot about our last evening together," I murmured, my voice dipping to a softer tone, my heart doing that familiar flutter whenever our conversations took this turn.
Joe's breathing on the other end deepened slightly. "Oh? And which part has been occupying your thoughts?"
"That slow dance in my living room, us replaying our first night together,” I replied, a shiver running down my spine at the memory. "The way you held me close, our bodies moving perfectly in sync, and the world just... faded away."
He let out a low hum. "I've replayed that moment so many times in my head. The feel of your curves pressed against me, the scent of your hair. Every detail is etched in my memory."
I bit my lip, my imagination vividly recalling the heat of his breath against my neck. "And that kiss," I sighed. “like a taste of all the tomorrows we're going to share."
There was a brief pause, both of us lost in the memory. "Emily," he finally said, his voice husky, "knowing that in just a few weeks, I'll get to hold you, kiss you, and dance with you anytime I want keeps me going. Every night, I think about all the ways I'm going to make you feel loved and cherished."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and my heart raced.
He breathed deeply. "Just a little longer, Em. Soon, every night will end with me holding you close and every morning with us together."
A delicious shiver ran through me. "I'm counting the days, Joe."
26
The serene ambiance of Rye had been my sanctuary for years. The small-town feel, the picturesque views, and, most importantly, the community had always wrapped me in a comforting embrace. With every packed box and every crossed-off item on my moving checklist, the reality of leaving New York solidified. But today’s farewell was perhaps one of the most heart-wrenching.
As I stepped out of my home, the white picket fences and blooming gardens were painted in the soft morning glow; today, a particular house across the street drew my attention.
Josie and Earl’s quaint little cottage, with its rose-trellised entrance and the ever-inviting porch, had been a haven for me. Over the years, the older couple had become a fixture in my life, especially Josie. Her wisdom, warmth, and unwavering support had seen me through some of my toughest times. She wasn’t just a neighbor; she was like family.
Taking a deep breath to steady my emotions, I made my way across the street. I could see Josie, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight, tending to her beloved roses.
"Emily," she called out with her bright smile, her hair tied back neatly, revealing the lines on her face that told of years filled with wisdom and experiences, straightening up and wiping her hands on her apron. “Today's the day.”
I rushed into her open arms. "Josie, this place ... it wouldn't have been home without you. Your guidance, your support, all those afternoons on this very porch drinking your famous lemonade. I can't thank you enough. You’ve been more to me than I could have ever asked for.”
She brushed a stray hair from my face, her eyes glistening. "You, my dear, have been a breath of fresh air.” She pulled away, her blue eyes moist. "You were always like a daughter to me. Watching you grow, find your path, fall in love... it’s been a joy."
Earl appeared from inside the house, a tray with three cups of tea in hand, his affectionate gaze resting on us. "Gonna miss you, Em. Our little chats, your infectious laughter echoing across the street."
Touched, I replied, "I’ll carry all our memories with me, Earl. And if you ever find yourselves in Charleston, we’ll have a room ready."
Josie's laughter filled the air. "Oh, that Southern charm! I'll hold you to that, dear."
Josie and I remained on that porch until the early afternoon sun began its descent low in the sky. The day was cool, a typical crispness in the New York air for this time of year, yet the sun bestowed a gentle warmth, its golden rays cutting through the chill and casting a soft, comforting glow around us.
“I expect to see that book of yours on the shelves in our local bookstore,” Josie called as I began making my way down the front steps.
“I smiled; you’ll have your very own signed copy,” I promised. Tears welled up in my eyes again. "Thank you, Josie. For everything."
With one last lingering look at the house that meant so much to me, I crossed the street back toward my place, taking with me memories and lessons that I would cherish forever.
“God, I didn’t know this was going to be so damn tough,” I spoke out loud as I walked back into the disarray of my house. It was a lie; I did know it was going to be this tough, but amidst the chaos and emotions that were surfacing, I had hoped, if only for a fleeting moment, that perhaps it wouldn't be.
I heard the hiss of the truck's brakes outside. This was it, moving day. My heart fluttered between excitement and a poignant twinge as I gazed around my now almost-empty home, memories whispering from every corner.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I stepped outside, greeted by the sight of the large moving truck occupying the space in front of my little house. Movers, masked by the morning mist, began to wander towards my door, awaiting instructions. I passed them with a soft, appreciative smile, signaling towards the neatly packed boxes labeled meticulously for each room of my new home with Joe.
Seefa, my cat, meowed from his cozy carrier, sensing the upheaval. I bent down, whispering soothing words to him, “It’s a big adventure for us, bud. A new chapter.” His bright eyes peered at me through the mesh, returning my words with a simple meow.
As I instructed the movers, memories unfolded in every corner of my gaze: the spot near the window where I wrote chapters of my life, literally and figuratively, the cozy corner where Seefa would bask in the slivers of sunlight, and the tiny kitchen where dreams and dinners were simultaneously made. But amidst these emotional goodbyes, I couldn’t wait to get to Charleston, to finally be exactly where I knew I was meant to be.
My phone buzzed, dragging me back to reality. It was Joe, his text a simple yet comforting "How’s it going?" accompanied by a heart emoji. I felt the smile cross my face.
“Bittersweet,” I typed back, attaching a picture of the moving truck and our house in its half-dismantled glory.
Within seconds, he responded, "I can’t wait to have you here, Em.”
"Just a few more hours," I typed back.
Taking a deep breath, I cast one last glance towards my now empty home. I took a deep breath, absorbing the sight of my empty home for the last time. Though the space was filled with the silence of departure, my heart thrummed with the thrill of what lay ahead.
The house, a witness to my past victories and lessons, stood quietly, ready for its next chapter.
With Seefa safely bundled in his carrier and my suitcase in tow, I stepped outside, the finality of the moment settling in.
I waved to the movers as they pulled away, watching as the physical remnants of my life in New York were transported away, headed for Charleston, headed for Joe.
When the taxi pulled up, I climbed into the taxi without a backward glance, having spent plenty of time wrapping up my life here. I was ready to move forward, leaving the past behind me. Seefa, safely in his carrier, meowed softly, sensing the shift in energy as we began our new adventure together.
As we started our journey to the airport, the cityscape of New York unfurled before my eyes. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching as each block passed by, each one holding a snippet of memories, both painful and joyous. My reflection in the glass is now one filled with hope, pride, and love.
The familiar skyline, once distant, now retreated even further as we neared the airport. The taxi rolled to a stop, and as I handed over the fare, the driver offered a kind smile.
In the bustling terminal, people swirled around in a chaos of reunions and farewells, joyous hellos, and heart-wrenching goodbyes. Juggling Seefa’s carrier and my luggage, I checked in, each step underlining the reality that I was leaving my past behind.
“I’m so sorry, buddy. I’ll see you at the other end.” I whispered through the mesh of Self’s carrier before handing him through to be checked into cargo.
Settling into my seat on the plane, I sent a silent thank you to the universe, grateful for the love waiting for me at my destination, for the friendships that had shaped me, and for the adventures yet to come in Charleston.
I closed my eyes, leaning back, and let myself be enveloped by the hum of the engines, soaring towards my future, our future, ready for the next steps that lay ahead.
My anxiety was heightened as I made my way through the terminal. There he was.
Joe's eyes locked onto mine across the arrivals hall, a beaming smile lighting up his face, arms open in a welcoming embrace. For a moment, everything else fell away, and it was just the two of us standing there amongst the sea of people.
I rushed into his arms, inhaling his familiar smell; his strong grip holding me close to him told me he would never let me go. His lips found mine in a kiss that held, his lips pressed against mine hard, desperate, full of longing.
"Welcome home, Emily," he whispered against my ear.
A shiver of excitement rushed through me. Home. My heart raced. I hadn't thought of this place being home again in years, but it was; home was with Joe.
Yet, as we pulled apart, the reality of what was to come hadn't yet sunk in. My gaze shifted beyond Joe to the bustling world outside the airport - a world that was his and one that I was yet to become a part of.
Interlocking his fingers with mine, Joe led the way to his car. His attempts to fill the air with casual conversation about work and general news in Charleston fell on my partially distracted ears.
As we settled into his car, I gazed out the window, observing the passing scenes of Charleston. I was reminded of how much had changed in the 10 years I'd been gone. The reasons for leaving, not just for college, but the bitter memories I ran from. One of those memories was sitting right beside me.
I leaned back in my seat and gazed at Joe's profile, the moon and the streetlights causing dancing shadows on his face. I admired the handsome man, looking for any trace of the boy from my memories. I couldn't see one part of the Joe I know now as the one from high school, but what about the rest? I was suddenly thrown a familiar knot in my stomach, not unlike the one I felt about the reunion. The wedding in a few weeks, Renee and Dan. That was going to be another reunion of friends and friends past. I don't know why I was suddenly feeling such angst; I thought I'd moved on from all of this. But I hadn't, not really, I'd forgiven Joe, but had I forgiven them? I shook the thoughts from my mind. I was not going to let this night be tampered with childish insecurities. Besides, this was my life now; here, and if he changed, maybe they had too.
Joe seemed to sense the shift in my demeanor, the silence carrying more weight than words could. He reached over, squeezing my hand gently, his voice tinged with concern. "Hey... talk to me, Em. What's going on in that head of yours?"
I turned to him. "I'm here," I began hesitantly, "and it's all just become so real, Joe."
27
The front door gently creaked as we stepped inside Joe's—no, our—house. Joe's hand found the small of my back, guiding me tenderly through the door into the front entrance. I paused for a moment; it felt as if I had entered for the first time. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and made his way in front of me toward the kitchen.
I placed Seefa's carrier down, and I gently opened the entrance to his temporary prison. With a cautious peek, he darted out, his fluffy tail high as he scurried off to explore or, more likely, hide in this unknown territory.
"Welcome home, Emily." Joe smiled as I made my way to him in the kitchen, where he was already dishing up the takeout we had picked up.
My tummy grumbled, "I'm starving." I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Need a hand?"
He glanced up, his eyes crinkling with warmth, "Just you being here is enough."
"I still remember my first time coming here to your house."
"Our house." Joe wrapped his arms around my back, clasping his hands together and resting them on the small of my back.
I looked up at him. "It was the first time you told me you loved me."
"You said it first." He grinned.
"I did. Would you believe me if I told you that's how long I've imagined myself here with you?"
"I've spent every night since wishing you were."
"And now I am." I bit my lip and smiled up at Joe; he was my dream come true. A dream I'd never known I had until our fated day on that train. It seemed like a distant memory but one so close that it would never fade.
The morning sunlight seeped through the white linen curtains, illuminating the room in a warm glow. My fingers grazed along the edges of the bed, feeling the chill of the empty space where Joe had fallen asleep beside me. I could hear the sounds of water splashing and the shower running. I looked up to the ceiling, pausing to take in the moment, our bedroom, our bathroom, our kitchen, I was home. It was going to take a while to get used to, but never get old saying.
I wandered downstairs to the kitchen and began preparing coffee. A sudden knock at the door broke the serenity of the morning, causing me to startle slightly. Frowning, I approached the door, peering through the peephole to find out who would be visiting so early. A man stood there, clipboard in hand, looking expectantly toward the door.
Tentatively, I opened it, my voice soft, "Can I help you?"
"Morning, ma'am," he greeted, his tone cheerful. "I've got a delivery here for a Mr. Joe Carlton.”
My eyebrows knitted together in confusion, not seeing anything in the man's hands, my gaze flickering behind me, half-expecting, half-hoping Joe might magically appear, despite the logical part of me knowing he was still upstairs in the shower.
I returned my attention to the man, "What kind of delivery?"
The man simply handed me a set of car keys, gesturing with a tilt toward the driveway where a sleek, white SUV sat bathed in the morning light.
"Is...is that the delivery?" I stammered
His nod confirmed it just as footsteps echoed from behind me. Turning, I found Joe, his hair still damp from the shower, a towel draped around his neck, and a sly, satisfied grin playing across his lips.
My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, "Joe, did you...why is there a new car in the driveway? Your’s isn’t even that old.”
He stepped closer, his hands gently enveloping mine, the keys cold between our intertwined fingers. "It's not for me.”
A pause, a blink, my mind working to piece together the situation. My voice barely a whisper, “For me?”
The grin widened.
Tears glazed my eyes, not from joy but from a pressure building inside, a weight of undeservingness that seemed to sit heavily inside me. I stared at Joe, then back at the SUV – sleek, new, and utterly unexpected. Once comfortably enveloped in Joe's, were my hands now pulled back as if the keys were emitting a heat I couldn’t bear.
"No, no, no," I shook my head gently, my voice a soft, insistent whisper. "Joe, I can't accept this. It's too much."
He began to protest, his eyes reflecting both surprise and a tender, aching kindness, but before he could utter a word, the delivery man cleared his throat, a gentle reminder of his presence in the doorway.
"I hate to interrupt, but could I get someone to sign for this so I can get going?" He offered the clipboard and pen to Joe, his gaze understanding yet amused as if he’d witnessed countless reactions to his deliveries before.
Joe signed quickly, his eyes never leaving mine. As the delivery man wandered back to his vehicle, Joe stepped closer, the keys hanging loosely in his hand.
