Point of Retreat(47)

I push the fear of losing her again out of my mind as I continue to kiss her. She moves her hands to my neck, sending chills down my entire body. Slow and steady loses out as we simultaneously pick up the pace. When she runs her hands through my hair, it sends me over the edge. I grab her by the waist and lift her up until she's seated on the dryer. Out of every single kiss we've ever shared, this is by far the best. I place my hands on the outside of her thighs and pull her to the edge of the dryer and she wraps her legs around me. Just as my lips meet the spot directly below her ear, she gasps and shoves against my chest.

“Eh hem,” my grandmother says, rudely interrupting one of the best moments of my life.

Lake immediately jumps off the dryer and I step back. My grandmother is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, glaring at us. Lake straightens her shirt out and looks down at her feet, embarrassed.

“Well it’s nice to see you two made up,” my grandmother says, eyeing me disapprovingly. “Dinner is ready when you can find the time to join us at the table.” She turns and walks away.

As soon as she’s gone, I turn back to Lake and wrap my arms around her again. “Babe, I’ve missed you so bad.”



“Stop,” she says, pulling away from me. "Just stop."

Her sudden hostility is unexpected...and confusing. “What do you mean stop? You were just kissing me back, Lake."

She looks up at me, agitated. She seems disappointed in herself. "I guess I had a weak moment," she says in a mocking tone.

I recognize the phrase, and more than likely deserve her reaction.

"Lake, quit doing this to yourself. I know you love me."

She lets out a sigh as though she's unsuccessfully trying to get through to a child. “Will, I’m not struggling with whether or not I love you. It’s whether or not you really love me.” She heads into the dining room, leaving me behind in yet another laundry room.

I punch the wall, frustrated at what just happened between us. I thought for a second I finally got through to her. I don't know how much longer I can take this. She's starting to piss me off.

***

“This roast is delicious, Sara," Lake says to my grandmother. "You'll have to give me the recipe."

I snatch the bowl of potatoes off the table in front of me and silently seethe at the way Lake is so casually exchanging pleasantries with my grandmother. I have no appetite, but I pile on the food anyway. I know my grandmother and if I don’t eat, she’ll be offended. I scoop potatoes onto my plate, then take an exaggerated spoonful and drop them onto Lake's plate, right on top of her roast. She's seated next to me, doing her best to pretend nothing is amiss as she eyes the massive mound of potatoes in front of her. I don't know if she's putting on this fake display of happiness for my grandparent's sake or for Kel and Caulder's sake. Maybe for the sake of all of them.

"Layken, did you know Grandpaul used to be in a band?" Kel says.

"No, I didn’t. And did you just call him Grandpaul?" Lake says.

"Yeah. That's my new name for him."

"I like it," my grandfather says. "Can I call you Grandkel?"

Kel smiles and nods at him.

"Will you call me Grandcaulder?" Caulder asks.

"Sure thing, Grandcaulder," he says.

"What was the name of your band, Grandpaul?" Lake asks.

It's almost scary how good she is at putting up a front. I make a mental note to remember this little detail about her for future reference.

"Well, I was in several actually," he replies. "It was just a hobby when I was younger. I played the guitar."

"That's neat," she says. She takes a bite of her food and talks with a mouthful. "You know, Kel has always wanted to learn how to play the guitar. I've been thinking about putting him in lessons." She wipes her mouth and takes a sip of water.

"Why? You should just get Will to teach him," Grandpaul says.

Lake turns and looks at me. "I wasn't aware that Will knew how to play the guitar," she says in a somewhat accusatory tone.

I guess I've never shared this with her. It's not like I was trying to keep it from her, I just haven't played in a couple of years. Of course, I'm sure she thinks it's just another secret I've been hiding from her.

"You've never played for her?" he says to me.

I shrug. "I don't own a guitar."