On the Run p. 66

After having her in his arms for so long, being without her was torture.  He missed her random thoughts, her humor, her magnetism to him, her playfulness.  Every time he walked in his kitchen, he saw her there chopping veggies.  Every time he stepped onto his front porch, he remembered how it felt to finally get to hold her for that first time, on the front porch swing.  How she stole his heart that night when she relaxed into his body as if there were nothing better on this earth to do.

Going to the gym wasn’t much better.  Every time someone set something on the counter, he remembered setting her there, the need in her voice, the desperation in her hands to explore his body.  The showers reminded him of her glorious body.  The gloves reminded him of what she looked like, all playful, and threatening to take him down.  And how much she trusted him.  He missed her honesty, honesty even when it hurt or was awkward.  He knew he could trust her, and she had learned to trust him.

He made room for her return, a drawer in the bathroom, room in the closet, room in the office for her own desk.  This kept him busy so he couldn’t overthink things, but the nights were so terribly long.  Sleep defied him, and he suddenly yearned to see the stars.  He rearranged his bed so he could look out the window as he laid there, knowing he was looking at the same moon and stars that his beautiful love was looking at, too, halfway across the country.

She didn’t call him for two full days.  She simply texted that she had arrived off the plane, made it to her house, her office, and responded to his texts with short one or two word answers.  When his phone rang after midnight, he couldn’t have been happier.  Had it been anyone else, his response would have been much different, but he craved the sound of her voice.

She was happy.  She was cheerful.  She was still at her office.  She was looking for office space in Warrensburg where she could open another branch of her business that apparently had done well.  She still needed a couple of days to finalize things, but she couldn’t wait to get back.  And she loved him.

Yes, that is what he wanted to hear, more than anything.  He wanted her happy, but he needed her to love him, to feel the same about him as he did her.  Life was good.  He could wait.  Good things take time.

She had asked him to meet her that Saturday, when she was scheduled to tour a floor in the new building, the building she had worked for as a temp just a couple of weeks ago.  She thought it would be perfect for the start of the new branch, and she wanted him to have a look.

Saturday was his birthday.  That would be one hell of a present, to have her back in his arms he thought.


**For the next post, please click here**

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Chanty's Cosmos

~~~Never let anyone dull your Sparkle~~~

Cee's Photography

Learning and teaching the art of composition.


where author's dreams take flight

Sweet and Unholy

Book Reviews & Personal Hell Hole


A millennial's take on life, adult face paint and sleepless nights.

A Mark of my Own

Unraveling my thoughts with writing


One Woman's Quest to Entertain Herself

Ana Linden

Writing Life

Thought trail

Trail of stories, poems, observations and more!


A blog by Dr. Abhinav Majumder

Meyer Clark Studio

A Creative Journey

A Pocket Full Of Wanderlust

" Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. " Mark Twain

Just Writing!

A place to improve my writing skills, and that's all.

Damsel with a Drill

The Never-Ending Chronicles of Homeownership

Dark Side of the Moon

the side of me most people never see

%d bloggers like this: