Taking Connor(6)

Connor nods in understanding before taking a sip of his beer. “There wasn’t one letter he wrote to me where he didn’t talk about you, ya know?” he says, and I frown. Blake adored me. I was so lucky to find that in my life even if it was only for a short time.

After we finish dinner, Connor insists on paying. I have no idea where he got the money from, but I don’t want to insult him, so I don’t argue. When I stand, he remains sitting and glances to the back of the restaurant. He’s looking for our waitress.

“You staying?” I question.

“Maybe for another drink or two,” he answers, his gaze meeting mine. “But I can walk you back.” He moves to stand, and I place a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s literally four hundred feet. I think I can make it,” I assure him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, I leave wondering why I feel so . . . lonely. Clearly Connor is going to hook up with our waitress. And it will be a fun sex-filled night with no strings attached. I’ve never had a one night stand, but I can see the novelty of them. More so now than ever. My body wants something my heart isn’t really onboard to handle. Maybe I could do it. Find a one night lover, a faceless man to sate my need while protecting my heart simultaneously.

As I enter my hotel room, I decide to think about it a little more; not make any rash decisions.





When Connor emerges from his room the next morning, he looks like a brand new man. I look like death walking. His little hook up screeched all night as his headboard tapped against our adjoining walls.

“You okay?” he asks after taking a long stretch.

“Never better,” I mutter tiredly. His door swings open and our waitress from last night exits wrapped in nothing but a towel, her red hair billowing down her back. She smiles shyly at me, but when she looks at Connor, she bites her lip and gives him a knowing smile.

As she coils her arms around his waist, he looks to me awkwardly. “Uh . . . Demi I’ll meet you at the car. I’ll just be a minute,” he promises.

“By all means, take your time,” I mumble as I drag myself to my vehicle.

It takes ten minutes before I see Red walking barefoot across the parking lot to her car, carrying her shoes, and smiling ear to ear. They must have had a quickie. When Connor climbs in, he nods with a weird smile on his face. He knows I’m not stupid, and I know I’ve been sitting in a hot car while he either A, screwed Red’s brains out, or B, she sucked him off.

“Feeling better?” I tease as I start the car.

Scratching his head, he scrunches his face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry Demi. I’m not really that kind of guy, but . . .”

“Hey . . . eight years is a long time. I imagine anyone would be jonesing for some . . .” I stop myself. “Sorry,” I shake my head. “I just mean . . . I somewhat understand is all,” I explain stupidly. I’m babbling . . . why am I babbling?

“You do?” he questions.

Heat runs rampant across my face. “I mean . . . ya know . . . it’s been a while.”

“Oh,” he nods in understanding, his brows rising slightly.

“I mean . . . since before he died. He was really sick and on a lot of medication . . .”

Connor just stares at me as I verbally vomit. “Shit,” I groan. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I just meant don’t feel bad. People have needs. I get it. I’m right there with you . . .”

I pull my car out of the hotel parking lot, silence filling the cab. Inside my head, I’m waging war with myself. Who talks about their sex life with their cousin-in-law they just met? Their dead husband’s ‘pseudo’ brother at that?

“So, you haven’t . . . ,” he pauses as if searching for his next words. “Been with anyone since before Blake passed?”

I stare straight ahead, hating myself for starting this conversation. “Three years,” I admit gruffly.

He doesn’t say anything else, which I appreciate, but hate as well. It leaves me questioning, ‘is he dropping it because he doesn’t know what to say to me because I’ve obviously overshared, or does he think I’m selfish for complaining about it, not that I was complaining.

We make it home in eleven hours, and I’m wiped. We stopped at an auto parts store on the way after Connor figured out the issue with the AC. It needed a charge, so we stopped and got it charged. Unfortunately, it only lasted about four hours until it crapped out again.

“Must be a leak in the lines. I can fix that when we get back to town,” he promised after it went out again.

So we sweated our asses off until we hit Colorado, and the temperature dropped a bit. Pulling in the driveway of the two-story Victorian I own—well, Blake and I owned it together before he passed—I park the car, and we get out.

“The garage apartment is furnished and ready for you,” I tell Connor as he stretches, and my eyes watch him in the dimming daylight. Connor shoves his hands in his pockets as he takes in the garage and the house.

“This is a nice place,” he notes.

I can’t help but think about Blake. Once upon a time, this house was meant to be the home where we’d start a family together. But I guess some things just aren’t meant to be. He loved this house. He loved it because it had a neighborhood feel but sits on two acres with an amazing mountain backdrop. Most of the land is laid out behind the footprint of the structure and leads into the mountains. The neighborhood is small, one main street with houses on each side giving us privacy on the back of the property. I may not ever have a desire to sit on my back porch in my underwear or run around in my backyard naked, but if I want to, I can. No one would ever know. Or I could before Connor took residence in the garage apartment behind my house.