Page 165 of Only After We Met

In the mornings, Rhys would take Leon to the pool. The boy splashed, smiled, and laughed. He loved the water. I would lie on a towel in the grass and pretend to read, but really I was just watching them. I couldn’t help it.

I couldn’t help it at night either when Rhys would read himPeter Panout loud after dinner before putting him to bed. Leon would breathe evenly, relaxed, as he looked at the two of us sitting next to him.

“You know he can’t understand anything you’re saying, right?

“He’ll retain something,” Rhys replied.

“Rhys, he’s a year old.” I laughed.

He ignored me and opened the book. He read for a long time, maybe for Leon or maybe for himself, because once the baby wasasleep, he continued awhile longer, following the lines with his finger the way children do, so absorbed I didn’t dare interrupt him. I recognized that edition, the golden edges of the pages, the hardcover, but I didn’t say anything until we were back in the living room.

“I thought it never reached you.”

“It didn’t. I managed to get it back later.”

“Later? When?”

“It’s a long story. Forget about it and come here.” He pulled me, but I tripped and wound up sitting on his lap on the sofa. I didn’t get up as we stared at each other. Then Rhys leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. “How many times have we said goodbye, Ginger?” he asked, and his warm breath made me tremble.

Goodbye.We would hear that word again the next day, when he left us at the airport at noon. I shook my head. This was different than it had been last time, less intense, but more painful in a way I wouldn’t know how to describe. Sadder.

“This is the fifth one, I think…”

“And maybe the last.”

“Maybe…”

We were so close that I barely had to move to find his lips, graze them, savor them again. Rhys grunted, leaned back, and reached up my shirt. And this time I was the one who lost control. Who needed it more than him, sooner. I felt for his belt buckle as he bit me on the neck, leaving marks on my skin. I pulled his shirt over his head and straddled him. I don’t know how we got the rest of our clothes off. All I remember is…what I felt. Touches. His fingertips pushing between my legs. My sex seeking his, taking him in. My hands in his hair. Me riding him back and forth. Strength. Intensity. Moaninginto his mouth, unable to abandon his lips until I had reached the sky with my fingertips.

Sweating. Holding him.

And kissing him the whole night through.

106

From: Ginger Davies

To: Rhys Baker

Subject: We’ve arrived

We got back to London a few hours ago. We’re fine. Leon got a little antsy and was crying. He’s not used to travel, but he’ll get some sleep tonight, and he’ll be fine.

It’s hard to say what it feels like, writing you an email, Rhys. It’s so weird and so natural at the same time. Sitting here in bed right now, with Leon resting next to me in his cradle, I’ve been remembering when I used to write you in my dorm room. It seems like so long ago, but really, it hasn’t been that much time, right? How long? Seven years? Give or take. I guess we’re the ones who are constantly changing, and sometimes you don’t get around to assimilating everything. I remember the old days sometimes. They make me nostalgic. I wish we could write an email to ourselves in the past, you know? Then everything would be so simple. But I guess that would make life boring.

So anyway, I’m up to my old nonsense here.

Tell me how things are with you.

From: Rhys Baker

To: Ginger Davies

Subject: RE: We’ve arrived

You don’t know how bad I wish I was there recreating this scene: you lying in bed, probably with a book or manuscript on your nightstand, right? And Leon next to you, close. I don’t know, maybe it’s better if I don’t know what you’re doing when you’re so far away.

I spent the day packing my bags, talking with the real estate agent who’s going to sell my house for me, and dealing with some loose threads for the album, which will be out in a few months. I’m catching a plane to NYC, and I’ll fly home from there. I’m fucking nervous, Ginger, even if I should have gotten used to the idea by now. It’s just hard after all these years.