It was morning now, around 7 a.m.
While Kate, Jacob and Megan slept, I’d gone back into the house, quietly grabbed a jacket and some boots, and headed off for a pre-dawn walk in the Mendocino Headlands.
Three hours later, trudging along the cliffs in the early light, I was no closer to resolving my conflicts about Kate.
I was feeling both incredibly fortunate, and increasingly unsettled. Fortunate, because I’d never met anyone remotely like her. She was so... incandescent. Unsettled, because my feelings for her were growing stronger all the time, and I was starting to question her need for other sexual partners. Especially other men.
You’re such a fucking idiot, I thought to myself. You had no problem with Michelle, but can’t handle Jacob. Jesus, boy - get it together.
Pushing back, Pissed-off Me flashed an image from earlier that night: not of Kate eagerly riding Jacob’s cock, but of the two of them lying together on the couch afterwards, entwined with each other, sound asleep.
Something just didn’t feel right, and I was at a loss for answers. Frustrated, I turned back towards the cottage.
The sun was glowing faintly in the east, rising in the mist. A foghorn sounded in the distance. Other than that: silence.
Stepping up on the front porch, I paused, took a deep breath, and opened the front door. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see. And I wasn’t expecting what I found.
Barefoot, in fitted blue jeans and a white Aran sweater, Kate sat alone in the centre of the couch, staring at the fireplace. The logs had burned down to embers now, and they glowed only faintly in the watery morning light.
Megan and Jacob were nowhere to be seen. They’ve already left, I thought. I hadn’t expected that. Usually, our guests stayed at least until breakfast; Kate often enjoyed a final early morning tryst before sending people on their way.
She looked silently at me as I stepped into the room. For the very first time in our relationship, I could see that she’d been crying. I was lost for something to say.
She looked at me with an expression I’d never seen before. She almost seemed… abandoned.
“Heyyy,” she said softly. “Glad you’re back… I was worried when I found you gone.” She stopped for a moment, struggling to collect her thoughts. After a few seconds of silence, she asked quietly, “Do you want to talk?”
“Not sure,” I answered, not really taking the time to consider my options. “Not sure…” I repeated quietly. “No… probably not now,” I finished.
I walked over to the kitchen, filled the kettle, and put it on the stove.
“Coffee?”
“Maybe tea?” Kate countered.
“Sure.” I pulled together the fixings for a pot of strong English tea, and then stood silently at the stove, staring vacantly at the kettle, waiting for it to whistle.
“It won’t boil while you watch it, you know,” Kate said quietly from right behind me.
I turned to find her standing only two feet away, looking at me almost anxiously. I hated seeing her this way. My heart cracked, and then I rallied, pushing back. "If only...” I said, a sliver of anger creeping into my voice.
“Mmmm,” Kate said, looking up at me, more distant now. “Okay…”
I flushed, caught up in my own confusion. Not wanting to take the conversation any further, I turned away to make the tea. This is not going well, I mused.
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Two hours later, we were back on the highway, heading north in the mist. We stopped briefly in Fort Bragg to grab two espressos and some croissants, and then booted on up the coast towards Rockport.
The weather was almost a complete reversal from yesterday. Now foggy and grey, the ocean and hills were nearly invisible. We drove wordlessly, the top up, no music playing. Kate sat silently in the passenger seat, gazing off into the distance with a defeated look on her face.
After what seemed like an eternity, she reached out her hand and placed it gently on my right leg. She left it there until we passed Rockport and turned inland towards Leggett.
She pulled her hand away. “Let’s just go home,” she said suddenly. “Please… I want to go home now.”
I looked over at her, nodded, and silently recalibrated our route back to Vancouver. We wouldn’t be taking the coast road after all.
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Around 6 p.m., after speeding up Interstate 5, we arrived in Portland. Our plan was to stay there for the night, and then head directly on to Vancouver the next day.
We’d said very little during the nine-hour drive. Both of us had remained lost in thought, deeply unsure about what to say next.
We rented a room in a pricey boutique hotel in downtown Portland. Given the untethered state of things, the place seemed way over the top. The trip wasn’t supposed to end this way, I sighed to myself.
After unpacking her small overnight bag, Kate announced that she wasn’t hungry, and was going to turn in early.
Welcoming some time alone, I nodded, changed, and went out on my own for a drink and some food. I was feeling way off balance at that point, not quite believing that things could unravel as quickly as they had.
At around 9 p.m., I was back in our room. Kate was now sound asleep in bed. Curled up into a tight, protected ball, her face still looked strained. If she’d had a thumb in her mouth, she would have looked like a little girl lost in a dark dream.
I showered, and then crawled into bed on the other side, assuming the same foetal position as Kate, but facing the wall instead of the window. I felt knocked out from the emotional turmoil, the ten-hour drive, and the late meal. I dropped off to sleep within seconds.
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I woke, not sure what time it was. It was still night outside.
In her sleep, Kate had moved up behind me to her usual position. She loved to nestle close and spoon into me from behind. I could hear the relaxed sound of her breathing. She smelled like lavender, and mint.
I lay there in the dark for what seemed like hours, not moving, not wanting her to move. Even lying so closely together, I felt her pending absence. A sharp sense of loss washed over me, and I curled up even tighter, fighting it down.
I was no longer treading water in the deep end - I was sinking.
Kate woke as I struggled internally, sensing that something was deeply wrong. Her left hand moved around to my chest and came to rest over my pounding heart.
“Ssshhhh,” she soothed. “Its okay, love… sshhhh.”
She nuzzled her face into my neck, and kissed me gently behind the ear. Her hand moved over my chest in a calming, circular motion.
Slowly, my sense of panic began to subside. I was confused by the whole experience. I’d never - ever - had an anxiety attack before. Now I knew what they felt like, and I didn’t like it one bit. Loss of control was anathema to me.
A few minutes later, my breathing almost back to normal, Kate and I finally talked.
As we lay spooned together, I confessed that I was having serious trouble separating sex from sentiment.
As my feelings had grown for her, so too had my difficulty watching her with other people. Particularly other men. “I thought I’d mastered this,” I told her, “Until I saw you with Jacob.”
“Why Jacob?” Kate asked, genuinely perplexed. “I could understand it better if you had problems with Michelle - I mean, I actually fell in love with her. But Jacob? He was a nice guy, perfect for a fun one-nighter, just like the others. End of story.”
As she spoke, she triggered more memories from the night before: Kate buck-naked with her legs wrapped around Jacob’s hips, riding his shaft for all she was worth. My own cock stirred at the image. No, I pleaded with it. Please. Stay down.