As she draws closer, she whispers, “I didn’t see you there … It’s very dark out here.” Her voice is soft and low, like people tend to speak when it’s dark.
Quirky things like that make me smile, and I say in a regular tone, “Yes, but when your eyes adjust, the stars are worth it. Especially on a clear night like tonight.”
She stops a few feet away from the tub, looking down at me. “I don’t want to interrupt your … time.” I wish I could read her expression. I hadn’t realized until now how much I’d come to rely on her face telling me exactly what she was thinking.
“No, please do. I don’t mind the company. It’s a big tub, and your sore muscles will thank you.” She edges closer, and for the first time, I catch sight of what she has on her feet.
I chuckle. “Do you seriously have smiley faces on your slippers?”
“Hey, what’s wrong with smiley faces? It’s better to be happy than grumpy,” she replies indignantly, slipping them off and leaving them deliberately close to where I’m sitting.
I smile to myself. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of saying I’m grumpy?”
She shrugs her shoulders dramatically, then peels the robe off, dropping it along with her towel on to the deck beside my things.
“Shit! It’s so damn cold.” She dances up and down on the spot in a black one-piece swimsuit, and I try not to stare at the way her breasts jiggle, threatening to escape from the thin fabric that barely covers them. It doesn’t help that I know exactly how perfect they look uncovered.
“Well, stop your dancing around in the cold and get into the hot tub.”
She steps down into the tub and ducks down into the water so only her head is sticking out. She sits directly opposite me, obviously trying to keep as much distance as possible between us.
I grin. “Now that you’re settled and warm, would you like a whiskey?”
“Oh! You’ve got whiskey? Yes, please.”
“We’ll have to share if you don’t mind, as I only have one glass … I wasn’t expecting company.” I pass her my glass of whiskey.
She takes a sip before saying, “You did say I could stay, so I’m not moving from this lovely warm water for at least … I don’t know, an hour.”
She pokes her tongue out, and a laugh erupts from me. I can’t remember the last time someone poked their tongue out at me. I like the uninhibited way Madison speaks and acts. She’s unique.
I flick some water at her, and she giggles. Then, picking up the whiskey bottle, I take a swig directly from it.
“Who’d have thought Mr. Corporate would drink from a whiskey bottle? You almost look relaxed sitting over there, lying back, those arms stretched out.”
Leaning in, I warn, “Do you want me to move closer?”
Her hand flies out of the water with a splash. “No. You need to stay on your side of the tub.” Then, waving her hand around her like she’s drawing a protective shield, she continues, “This is my side of the tub.”
I smile at her, then lay my head back and draw in a deep depth before exhaling and releasing the remaining tension from my body.
“Fine, I’ll stay on my side.” We sit in silence for a few seconds until I say, “Hey, check out the stars tonight.”
She tilts her head back. “You were right! The stars are really spectacular. Don’t they make you feel insignificant? We’re just one tiny speck in a vast universe … It reminds me of summer nights lying on the beach back home.”
I tip my head to the side so I can see her. Her face is half in shadow, half illuminated by moonlight. She truly is a beautiful woman.
Not wanting to be accused of staring, I turn my head up to the night sky again. “Is there a particular guy back home you like lying on the beach with?” My question is not particularly subtle, but then maybe Madison’s direct way of speaking is catching.
When her voice comes to me, it’s whisper soft and tinged with sadness. “Not anymore.” I can’t resist looking over at her. She is still looking up, appearing to be lost in thought or maybe memories.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, not expecting that she does.
But she surprises me again. “I guess. I broke up from a long-term relationship a few months ago, and I’m still getting used to being single again.”
“How long is long term?”
She lifts her head and looks at me. “Four years. That’s a long time, isn’t it?” I don’t respond, as I’m sure it’s a rhetorical question. I know I’m right when she takes a deep breath, then continues. “I guess it’s hard because there wasn’t a big thing that caused us to break up. It was all very amicable. Jake is a good guy, but there was no passion left. Over time, we slowly fell out of love and landed in a friendship.”
