She wore a pair of black yoga pants, ones that molded to her legs perfectly. She looked the same, yet didn’t. She was curvier than I remembered, her breasts seeming larger. That last part had me imagining a moment in time from ten months ago--when we’d been drunk and she’d been writhing under me, her beautiful naked breasts shaking back and forth slightly as I slid in and out of her.
Oh God. Now was not the time to get aroused.
I cleared my throat, shifted on my feet, scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck. I was twitchy and nervous, and I felt her staring at me so intently it was like she touched me.
“You’re back,” she whispered, her voice sounded weird… thin, as if she stared at a ghost, or a stranger. “Early.”
Fuck.
“I mean… I didn’t mean for that to sound tense… dammit this is weird.”
I glanced up and she still had that tight look on her face, her eyes still wide.
“I’m really happy you’re back.” And she smiled, one that was genuine and warm and sweet and made my heart skip a beat.
She stepped aside and let me in, and when I went over the threshold I smelled cookies in the air, then noticed the candle sitting on the counter in the kitchen.
I didn't even wait—couldn’t, if I were being totally honest. I pulled Lia in, had a hand on the back of her head so she was pressed to my chest, then buried my nose in her hair, just inhaling deeply.
“God, I missed you,” I murmured, feeling like I was finally home. I. Was. Home. She held me back just as tightly, her body melting into mine, this little sob coming from her, but I knew it was happiness that shook her much smaller body.
“I missed you, too,” she whispered, and tightened her arms around me.
Fuck, that felt incredible.
I didn’t know how long I held her, but it would never be enough. Never. I did pull away then, smiling down at her, pushing some of those errant strands of hair from her face, and letting my fingers linger along her ultra-smooth cheeks.
“I missed you so much.” My heart started beating again for the first time in almost a year the moment she’d opened that door and I saw her again after all this time.
The smile she gave me lit me up from the inside out. I forced myself to let my arms drop away from her, not wanting to make this weird. We had a lot to talk about, especially where I stood on how she made me feel. I did give myself a moment to look around, reminiscing about her place since it seemed like a lifetime since I’d been here.
The duplex was a tiny little thing, with the living room and kitchen one room with only a breakfast counter style partition separating the door. There was a door that led off from the kitchen and into a large laundry room, and another door there that led out back.
Attached to the living room was an even tinier hallway, a bathroom off of that reminiscent of the seventies with a yellow and brown accented counter and linoleum floor.
The living room looked the same—the navy couch with tiny peach colored dots scattered over it that Lia had found at a yard sale. The black faux wood “entertainment center” that held her TV, DVD player, and an array of movies on the shelf. The rug in front of the couch was the same—cream with these darker cream accented swirls throughout.
Also off the hallway was the lone bedroom, nearly as large as the living room, which wasn’t saying much since they were both tiny as hell.
The best part of the duplex set-up—and the reason it had sealed the deal for Lia renting the place—not counting the free water and heat—was the backyard.
The structure was situated on a hundred acres owned by the landlord, an elderly couple who farmed corn and soybeans. The backyard was fields and fields as far as the eye could see, and there was even a wood area that had a creek running through it.
As I stood here thinking about all of that, taking in her place, which I already knew by heart, but wanted to memorize all over again, I started noticing things that I hadn’t picked up on right away. Things that most certainly had never belonged here before.
A baby swing butting up against the wall.
A woven basket beside the couch that held diapers, wipes, washcloths, and an array of other baby paraphernalia.
I snapped my focus to the kitchen and looked at the sink. A bottle rack sat on the counter, bottles situated upside down on it as they clearly dried.
Baby stuff. Everywhere.
I felt dizzy, so lightheaded I reached out and braced a hand on the wall beside me, hung my head, and closed my eyes. I breathed in and out. In and out.