The Distance (32 page)

“Nana said I get to have nail polish,” Izzy said with a big grin. Her new front teeth were oversized compared to the rest of her baby teeth, which made her cuter than ever.

I kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll see you real soon. Take good care of Nana and Gran and Great Gran.”

“What about Auntie Mal?”

“I guess you should probably take care of her, too,” I said with a smile. “Did you get to say goodbye to your dad?”

She nodded. “Daddy’s at the house. He helped me pack. At first he said five princess dresses were too many for this weekend, but then he let me bring them.”

“Have the best time,” I said, brushing back a lock of her dark hair. She was wearing her butterfly barrettes, which always made me happy. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Bye, Jessie. I love you.” She threw that out with no fanfare as she hurried back to the limo. To her, it was a simple statement of fact.

She didn’t realize she’d just given me the most amazing gift. I kept my voice steady, despite all the emotions those precious words stirred up in me, and called after her, “I love you too, sweet Izzy.”

I waved as I watched the limo pull away. It felt a little odd that someone else was behind the wheel. But I reminded myself I’d moved on, and that was a good thing. I wasn’t the chauffeur anymore, and Nana wasn’t my employer. I didn’t need that job to play an important role in her life, because we were family.

After they took off, I finished the Jetta’s tune-up and chatted with the owner for a while when she came to get it. I was cleaning up when Kai returned, I told him about Dante’s visit and said, “It doesn’t sound like they’re close to catching whoever was behind the fire. It’s so disheartening.”

“A lot of good people are on the case. I know this has been eating away at you, but just for this weekend, let’s try to relax. You haven’t been sleeping well since the fire, and you really need some downtime.” I mentioned the beach house, and he said, “Perfect. Let’s go home, throw some things in a bag and get on the road. It looks like you’re all done here.”

After we set the new alarm (a gift from Dante, not that there was any reason to believe we’d be a target for the Dombrusos’ enemies, but he was in full security mode) and locked up the garage, Kai got behind the wheel of the Impala. I fired off a quick text to Zachary to see how he was doing as we drove home, then held my phone for a couple minutes and watched for a reply. He either wrote back within a minute, or in about two days, depending on whether or not he was off on one of his mysterious outings. When I’d asked him point-blank where he kept going, he’d said, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and changed the subject. It was incredibly frustrating, but I knew I couldn’t keep pushing. That’d just make him withdraw from me, and I didn’t want that to happen.

Apparently we were in a two-day-reply window, so after a while I sighed quietly and returned the phone to my pocket. Kai glanced at me when we hit a stoplight and asked, “Is Zachary on another walkabout?”

“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t worry about him. He’s a grown man, and if he doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s up to, that’s his business.”

“But you’re still concerned about him.”

I nodded. “I just wish I knew what was behind his disappearances. Jamie says he calls in sick at least once a week, but at least he calls. That shows he’s kind of holding it together, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, more than if he was just blowing off work entirely.”

“He’s definitely hurting,” I said, “and I wish I could do something about that. It’s like my brother said though, you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped. I’ve made sure Zachary knows I care, and that I’m always available to listen or lend a hand in any way I can. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

When we got to the house, Kai said, “Why don’t you make a couple sandwiches while I pack a few clothes and toiletries for both of us?”

“Good idea.”

I put together a picnic while he went up to the attic. I’d moved the last of my stuff out of Nana’s house, so the makeshift bedroom was pretty cramped. It was going to be nice when our apartment was done, although I’d enjoyed living with Kai’s family and would kind of miss it. I knew we’d be over all the time though, just like we were over at Nana’s house a few times a week since I’d moved out.

When I finished putting our meal together, I carried the vintage wicker picnic basket into the living room and paused to admire the dollhouse. Izzy had given it a place of honor on a table in front of the picture window, and spent countless hours playing with it. I remembered something all of a sudden and pulled a little paper bag from my pocket, then took out a tiny hairbrush and comb and added them to the dresser in the miniature child’s bedroom. I loved leaving tiny trinkets without telling Izzy, then watching her face light up when she discovered them. I almost had her convinced it was the work of fairies, but she was a bit skeptical.

Kai jogged downstairs, deposited a couple bags on the living room floor and went into the kitchen as he called, “Almost ready. How many clams should we leave for Virgil and Scarface?” My pet crab lived in a large, second-hand aquarium in the kitchen, along with the little fugitive I finally apprehended at Nana’s house (he’d been living inside a disused fireplace, knife close at hand).

We made sure the crustaceans were situated, then scooped up the bags and headed for the door. As Kai locked up behind us, I stood on the porch, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I’d almost forgotten how to relax, but that weekend I was determined to remember.

*****

The sun was setting over the Pacific as we wound our way down the coast. The Impala’s engine purred, and her new paint job mirrored the golden sky. I laced my fingers with Kai’s as he drove, and he rested our joined hands on his thigh. He’d brought along his dad’s tapes, and Bowie’s songs kept us company. They always reminded me of that day early on when I’d helped Kai paint the deck, and our fledgling relationship had begun to flourish. Back then, I’d thought it was so important to keep my distance. I didn’t think that anymore. The perfect distance between Kai and me was absolutely none at all.

It took about two hours to reach the house, which was just outside a charming little town called Carmel-by-the-Sea. We glanced at each other when we pulled up to an imposing electrified gate. Kai punched in the code and it slid open, then shut again once we’d driven through it. We followed a private road through stands of Monterey cypress and manzanita, and when we rounded a bend and saw the house, we both relaxed a little. The fence might have seemed like it belonged at Folsom Prison, but the attractive, dark wood cottage on a cliff above the ocean was welcoming.

“This’ll work,” Kai said with a grin as he pulled up beside the house.

When we got out of the car, he said, “Before we go inside, there’s something we need to do.” He took a lighter and a large, flat paper rectangle from the trunk, and I followed him around the side of the house.

“What is that?” I asked when he stopped near the edge of the cliff and pulled on the sides of the paper object he’d been carrying. It unfolded into almost the shape of a chef’s hat, a cylinder closed and rounded off at the top and slightly narrower at its open base.

“It’s called a sky lantern, and we’re going to spark it up and send it out over the ocean. Just so you know, the frame is bamboo and the paper’s made to dissolve as soon as it hits the water, so no little Virgils or Scarfaces or their aquatic friends will eat it and get in trouble.” I loved that he thought of that. “I found it in Chinatown, and I’ve been carrying it around for a week. I think this is the perfect time to use it.”

“What’s it for?”

He turned to me and said, “Some people call this a worry lantern. The idea is to transfer all our concerns onto it, then turn it over to the universe. I’m not crazy enough to think this will actually solve anything, but the symbolism is kind of great. You’ve had so much on your mind, and just for a little while, maybe we can both let go of that worry and live in the moment. What do you think? Should we do it?”

“There’s a hell of a lot to heap onto this little lantern.”

“I know.”

“Let’s do it.”

“I’ll go first.” Kai put his palm on the lantern and said, “I worry about Jessie and his nightmares.”

I put my hand on top of his and said, “I worry about someone hurting the people I love.”

We kept going like that, back and forth, naming Zachary’s well-being and Izzy’s struggles with a mean kid at school and a list of other concerns. Finally, Kai used the lighter to ignite some kind of wax core inside the lantern, and the whole thing lit up with a soft, golden glow. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

He handed it to me and said, “You do the honors.”

I held it up with both hands, over the edge of the cliff. As soon as I let go, the miniature hot air balloon drifted heavenward. We put our arms around each other and watched it for a long time. It grew smaller and smaller in the night sky as it continued to climb and head out over the Pacific.

When it finally disappeared from sight, I stretched up and kissed Kai, then said, “Thank you. Somehow, I really do feel a bit lighter after that.”

“Good,” he said gently. “Me too.”

We took one last look at the vast, black expanse of sea and sky as the waves crashed steadily onto the shore far below. Then we walked hand-in-hand back around to the front of the house. We grabbed our things, used the keys and let ourselves in, and I entered the code on the keypad inside the door very carefully. I was glad when it powered down.

Kai murmured, “Wow,” when we stepped into the main living space. The house was exactly what I’d hoped for. Instead of being grand and flashy, it was cozy. The colors were warm and subdued. Overstuffed furnishings dotted with pillows and blankets were clustered around a big fireplace, and thick drapes made it feel like a cocoon when I pulled them closed and shut out the darkness.

He got a fire going while I unpacked our picnic. After we ate a leisurely meal on the couch, we curled up under a soft, velvety blanket and talked for hours. Most of our conversation centered on our new home. The architect had included a rooftop patio, and we planned out the little container vegetable garden we were going to put in. We also discussed the indoor playhouse shaped like a castle, which we’d be building together in the next couple weeks. We wanted it to be ready and waiting for Izzy the first time she saw her new room.

Kai’s head was on my chest, and as I stroked his hair I said softly, “I love this, talking about our home and planning it together. It feels so good.”

“It really does.”

“Thank you, Kai.”

He tilted his head back so he could look at me. “For what?”

I grinned a little. “I don’t know. Everything. I was just feeling so grateful for you, and I needed to say that.”

“I’m incredibly grateful for you, too.”

We kissed for a long time, and after a while Kai said, “We should move to the bedroom. I saw a huge bed in there when I passed by earlier. Let’s go use two feet of it.”

He was right, the bed was enormous and was made up with luxurious, deep blue linens. There was a second fireplace in the bedroom, and I got the fire going. The warmth and soft golden glow were an immediate comfort.

Kai and I got ready for bed, then climbed under the thick duvet. We snuggled together on the right side of the bed, and when he wrapped his arms around me, I felt so safe and warm. That night, for the first time in weeks, I slept deeply and didn’t have any nightmares.

*****

The next morning, Kai brought me coffee in bed before drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal a sunny, breathtaking ocean view. “Damn,” he said as he looked out over the Pacific. “I feel like I’m at a fancy resort. We owe Dante and Charlie a big thank you.”

I admired the view, too, but not the one outside. Instead, I was looking at my gorgeous, shirtless boyfriend as he stood at the window. His cotton pajama pants rode a bit low, revealing a pair of perfect dimples just above his waistband and the tantalizing curve of his ass. “Come back to bed,” I said as my cock took notice and I put my coffee cup on the nightstand.

Kai glanced at me over his shoulder, and a grin spread across his face. He turned to me and walked across the room slowly, the embodiment of strength and grace. He took my breath away, and when I told him that, his grin got wider.

He peeled back the covers and ran his gaze down my body. I’d gone to bed in nothing but a pair of turquoise briefs, and it was gratifying to watch his very physical reaction as he looked at me. I reached for the growing bulge in his pajama pants and massaged it as I asked, “Did you pack condoms?”

“No. I thought we’d agreed we didn’t need them anymore.”

“Oh. Right. It’s just so automatic.” We’d been going out for seven months, and at the six month mark we’d both gotten tested and received clean bills of health. We were monogamous and knew we were ready for that next step.

But we hadn’t had sex in quite a while, not since just before the fire. My injuries needed time to heal, and after that, I’d felt kind of fragile, so we hadn’t gone there. In the last couple weeks, as my libido returned, we’d added back oral sex and jerking each other off. But this would be the first time in over two months that we’d be doing more than that, and the first time for either of us without a condom.