And paddling seems like a healthy distraction from my current drama. Much better than driving to Adam’s place and knocking him out.
I click through the rental options on my laptop, searching for a place away from the busy downtown spots where we might be recognized.
I find a small place up in North Park that offers private launches. More expensive, but worth it for the privacy. I imagine Lena's smile when I surprise her with another day on the water—just the two of us, sunshine and cool water. Maybe this time we can pack a picnic lunch, find a quiet spot near the lake, stretch out on a blanket...
Gordie whines softly, breaking my fantasy. He's recovering well from his surgery, the cone off, and his energy is returning to normal. I reach down to scratch his ears, earning a contented groan.
"She'll be home soon, buddy," I tell him as if he's beenwondering the same thing I have—when Lena will return from her shopping trip with Emerson and Fern.
Home. The word feels right when I think of Lena in my space with my dog. Despite the complications, despite Brian's warnings and the looming charity gala where we'll have to pretend we're nothing more than colleagues, having her here feels natural. Right. Our bodies just seem to go together.
I know it can't last. She needs her own place for both our careers' sake. But maybe we can stretch this summer a little longer and steal a few more weekends and a few more nights before reality intrudes. It all feels so precious, so fleeting. I’m probably delusional, but I’m planning these outings as if we can be a real couple.
I start to realize Lena and I are just as much of a dirty secret as me and Adam. But I like to hope that Lena’s intentions are different. I remind myself that she’s met my family. That she wants to be with me if she can figure out how.
The sound of a key in the lock sends Gordie scrambling toward the door, his nails clicking on the floor. I follow at a more measured pace, though my heartbeat picks up speed at the prospect of seeing her.
"Hey," I say as she enters, bag draped over an arm. "How was shopping?"
"Good." Her smile seems subdued, not quite reaching her eyes. "Found a dress for the gala."
"Can I see it?" I ask, reaching for the bag.
She pulls it back slightly. "Bad luck. You'll see it at the event."
Something feels off about her demeanor, but I press forward with my plans. "So, I was thinking… There's this kayak place up north that looks great. More secluded than where we went before. I thought maybe we could make a day of it, pack a lunch?—"
"Alder." She cuts me off gently, setting her stuff down by the door. "I need to tell you something."
The tone of her voice—careful, measured—sends a chill through me. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a set of keys, holding them up to catch the afternoon light streaming through the windows.
"I found an apartment," she says quietly.
The words take a moment to penetrate, to make sense. "An apartment," I repeat, staring at the keys—concrete evidence of a decision already made.
"It's small, but it's available immediately." She closes her hand around the keys. "I'm going to move in tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" My voice sounds strange to my ears, distant and hollow. "That's... fast."
She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's for the best, Alder. We agreed I need my own place."
"Yeah, but I thought we'd have more time to, I don't know, look together. Find something that works for you." Something close to me is what I don't say.
"This works." She finally looks up, her expression a careful mask. "It's within my budget and in a safe neighborhood. It makes sense."
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. "When were you planning to tell me?"
"I'm telling you now." She sighs, setting her purse down and moving past me into the living room. "I thought moving while you were at training tomorrow would be easier. Clean break."
The phrase echoes in my head, sharp and painful. Is that what she wants? To be done with whatever this is between us?
I follow her into the living room, where she's kneeling to greet Gordie. The dog presses against her, sensing something's wrong.
"What about us?" I ask, the question bursting out before I can stop it.
She looks up at me, sadness etched in the lines around hereyes. "There can't be an 'us,' Alder. Not the way things are. You know that."
"So that's it? You're just... leaving?" I hate how plaintive I sound, but I can't seem to control it. I sound like I sounded with Adam, always begging him to stay longer. Shit, I’m a pathetic wreck. Begging people to be with me.
