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And that’s fine. They aren’t my intended target audience.
“No, my books are romantic in nature. Do you read?” I ask.
"Sometimes. But I'm not in the habit of reading historical romance."
"You should give it a try… who knows, you might learn a few things," I say, trying to lighten the mood, but he just makes a grunting sound of annoyance.
He doesn’t ask any more follow-up questions. Which means he’s probably judging me so hard right now, but whatever. He breaks people's noses and knocks out teeth for a living, and I suspect he makes a whole lot more than I make doing it.
I shouldn’t feel inferior to this man, so I won’t allow myself to.
I follow as Seven turns right into the first room down the hallway and flips on the bedroom light.
The room looks just like the rest of the house. Dated furnishings and no real personality, but beggars can’t be choosers, and the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room is far better than sleeping on the hard porch out front.
I hear the creaking and wobbling of something against the window but it’s too dark outside for me to know for sure.
I cringe at the thought of sleeping alone tonight.
I can’t remember the last time I slept without Daniel in the middle of a storm.
Up until he left for Australia, he was the warm body lying next to me, reminding me that I wasn't alone.
We agreed that I would no longer wake him any more during a thunderstorm since his job is really important, and he needs a full night's rest to work on whatever deposition his team is pouring over.
Having him close does a lot to ease my mind and now I won’t even have that.
I feel naïve for thinking I could set out on my own and face my fears in one night.
“This is the only spare bedroom in the house,” he says, setting my bags down by the bed.
The bedspread is an older nineties tropical theme with palm trees and a coconut-print, with pillowcases to match.
“Thank you, this is more than enough. I appreciate you letting me stay here.”
He nods and then abruptly leaves the room.
I just stand there in confusion for a moment.
That was weird, wasn’t it?
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s not a man of many words. I’ve heard a little bit about him from around town. He’s the stoic, keeps-to-self player on the team. The rumor is that he hasn’t been interviewed one-on-one with any media outlet in over ten years.
I start to take steps towards my luggage when he returns again.
“Here,” he says, walking to the left side of the bed, setting a battery-powered lantern next to the lamp and alarm clock.“We might lose power tonight. If that happens, you might need this.”
My heart begins to race at the possibility of losing electricity.
“Wait, we might lose power?” I ask. The anxiety I’ve been trying to push down is starting to bubble up again. “Do you think that will really happen?”
He turns after dropping the lantern off on the table and then faces me as he walks back.
“I wouldn’t rule it out. And if it does and you need light, the lantern has enough battery life for a couple of days. I already charged it all day today. Just flip the power button on.”
He keeps walking past me and towards the bedroom door as if this time he’s leaving and he won’t be coming back for the rest of the night.
A tiny moment of weakness has my brain begging me to ask if I can sleep in his bed tonight… or at least on his floor. The last thing I want to do is sleep in this storm alone, but sleeping with a strange man is out of the question, and I doubt he’d agree to it anyway.
