The thought of the magazine I had spent years collecting was now a pile of ash made me want to throw up. All those images ruined.
Andrew fiddled with a woven leather bracelet on his wrist. “It is sad, but it also shows how resilient the human spirit is. Anyways, I was walking the streets of Mumbai when I heard this flute music coming from a nearby alleyway. It was—” he paused and shook his head. “It was unlike anything I had ever heard before. In search of the source, I stumbled upon a group of people meditating. They were sitting there on their mats, completely still. It was a slice of nirvana amongst the grime. The man who was playing the flute, opened one eye and nodded. I nodded back. While I wanted to stay, I felt as if I was intruding so I left. The next day I returned at the same time and the next. It became part of my routine.”
“So, you continued that routine when you got home?”
“Yeah, I meditate in the morning for twenty minutes. It helps my creative process.”
Since there wasn’t a creative bone in my body, I didn’t have a process. Actually that wasn’t true. I was really good at drawing stick figures and semi-decent at writing. However, neither of those things had morphed into a hobby. I’d thought about majoring in food science but my grades weren’t stellar enough to get into college. Plus, money.
Andrew didn’t fit Camilla into his story but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a part of it. “Is that where you met her? Camilla?” I asked casually.
“Yeah, I met her in India. She was part of the group who did meditation.”
The woman I saw on the Polaroid was transferred to a courtyard. Her eyes closed, flowing red hair tumbling down her back and a peaceful expression was written on her face. She was the opposite of me in every way.
“A continental hookup? How very Humphrey Bogart of you,” I joked to lighten the mood.
Andrew cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It should have stayed that way but when you meet somebody abroad, you forge this bond. Our relationship while slow to develop was like a virus. She infected me until I couldn’t think about anything but her.”
Jealousy flared. I wanted punch Camilla in the boobs and was unsure if I could stand to hear another word about her. However, I’d asked to know about their relationship. Andrew was simply complying with my wishes. Stupid curiosity.
“As a twenty-three-year-old, I thought that was normal.” Andrew looked up at the blanket of stars. “Consummation equaled love. Later I found out, consummation equaled them running away screaming because you stifled them.”
“I don’t think you know how to love any other way.” Andrew gave me the side eye. I held my hands in front of me. “That’s not a bad thing! I’m just saying you put your heart and soul into everything you do. Nothing is half assed. You put months of hard work into your art show and I’m guessing it was the same for the pop up coffee shop. I love that you are so passionate.”
“Thanks, and I love how cute you are when you’re trying to back peddle.”
“I’m not back peddling!” I cried. “It’s true.”
He rubbed my thigh, assuredly. “I’m just yanking your chain.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, my bottom lip pouted. “You’re mean.”
“I’m awesome.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Although he was joking, Andrew was awesome. His adoring fans were proof I wasn’t the only one who felt the same.
“You are ridiculous,” I countered. “So what happened next? You got consumed and then?”
Andrew sighed. “And then we traveled around Europe together. For the most part, it was amazing. Camilla was a yoga teacher by trade so she paid her half by teaching at different studios. At the end of the three months, I invited her to live with me in the United States. Problem was, she wasn’t a U.S. citizen.”
I saw where this was going. “You proposed so she could stay?”
“Yes. We lasted eight months before we broke up. She missed her family in Denmark and felt as if my American ways were sexist. It has been six months since she left.”
Studying his face, I tried to interpret his elusive emotions. While I didn’t want to know if he still loved her, my heart needed to.
“Are you….” I gulped. “Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Do I?”
It was as if he was asking the question to himself. Tipping his chin to the glass ceiling, my pulse hammered. A beat passed, then another, and another. Our relationship’s future depended on his answer. While I would be shattered if he said yes, I would survive. I always did. Nonetheless, my toes and fingers crossed as I waited for Andrew to speak.
A magnificent smile split apart his cheeks. “No, I don’t.” Relief flooded his words. “I don’t at all. We were ill matched. Traveling around together, everything was new. We built a life on that newness but once Camilla came here, she was a mismatched puzzle piece. I loved the idea of her but I don’t think I ever loved her.” He looked over at me, his eyes searching. “Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense.”
Andrew gathered me into his arms. I snuggled into his side and my head rested against his chest. His heart beat in rhythm with mine.
“I’m all yours, Haven,” Andrew said. “Heart, body, and soul. I’m yours.”
I squinted against the harsh assault of sunlight. Rolling onto my side, Andrew’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he slept peacefully. We hadn’t gone to bed until late last night after he’d made good on his promise. We had sex underneath a blanket of stars and on top of a mound of pillows. I couldn’t believe he was mine. A thousand butterfly wings flapped in my stomach. Hearing the story about what happened between Camilla and him wasn’t what I expected. Honestly, Matthew had made it sound as if she died in a horrific crash, when they’d broken up because of a cultural divide. That was easier to swallow. Also, it helped she was a million miles away in Denmark and couldn’t pop by at a moment’s notice. Could you imagine? That would be awkward. Andrew’s arm flung over my stomach as he mumbled. He smelled like sex and laundry detergent. Gently shoving him off of me, my feet hit the cold hardwood floors.
He yanked me back to his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I have to take a shower.”
“What kind of shower? Dirty or clean?”
“You’re insatiable. We have already done it three ways to Sunday.”
“I think you mean six ways to Sunday,” he corrected.
“Whatever.”
His erection was visible through his basketball shorts. I itched to feel him in my mouth. My tongue licking him like an ice cream cone. Andrew had ignited a 24/7 sex vixen
I shot him a devilish smirk. “Come on, let’s go wash away our sins.”
He fist bumped the air, jumped out of bed and threw me over his shoulder. I squealed as he smacked my ass. Running into the bathroom, he put me down. Andrew adjusted the shower to the ideal temperature while my clothes fell away. Steam enveloped the space.
“I feel like I’m in a porno,” I said.
Andrew’s gaze darkened as he turned around. “This is better than a porno because it’s real.”
I couldn’t disagree. For the next twenty minutes or so, we ruined the entire concept of a shower and got more dirty than clean. By the end, my legs felt like Jell-O and I had twenty minutes until I had to drop off the money to Big Ted. Towel drying my hair, I changed into a pair of slacks and a shirt. I look like I’m going to an interview at a bank.
Andrew smoothed his hands down my arms. “Are you nervous?”
“I wasn’t until you said something.”
“Sorry.” He placed a kiss on top of my head. “I’m going to make coffee. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
My hand shook as I applied mascara, getting black smudge on my eyelid. Flinging the wand across the room in frustration, I inhaled, counted to three and exhaled. It helped a little.