6: ZENON

The skies appear bluer today than they have in a long while. Out on the horizon, the skies meld into the water becoming one. It's difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends.

The sweat drips down my body as I come close to finishing the last mile. I've run three miles today. I had begun slacking off from my normal exercise routine since I've been on the island.

My days have been full of eating, watching TV, and fixing up the place. Not that it's shabby or anything. It's not that by far. There were just a few details that needed attention; like a new paint job, shutters replaced, the garden needed to be weeded and mowed, and some minor repairs on the inside of the house.

I've been here for almost a month today, and I've found myself missing Zílda like crazy. Her mother is off visiting family in Russia, and she won't return home to the States for another week.

I've been thinking about asking her to bring Zílda down to visit me when she returns, but that doesn't feel right. Although Larisa and I are no longer together, she'll ask millions of questions about whether this is my beach cottage, who it belongs to, whether I was cheating on her with the woman and a million other asinine questions that I don't want to deal with.

Instead, I might fly to them and spend a couple of weeks with my daughter in Florida. The one thing I won't do is take our daughter somewhere that her mother doesn't know she's going to.

I slow my run into a jog as I near the beach. People are starting to come out to enjoy the beautiful weather as the day warms.

This morning, I started my exercise regimen a few minutes before nine, and it's now going on ten-thirty. I finally head back to the cottage to grab some breakfast.

I slept in this morning which is also unlike me. I'm usually up and moving around no later than seven in the morning. Last night, I was plagued with thoughts about my past and my future.

I have two failed relationships under my belt, and as much as I know that no one's perfect, I can't help but think that I keep picking the wrong woman. Prepared to propose to one and married to the other; both women toyed with my heart.

I pull the door open to the cottage and head to the shower. Adjusting the water, I think about Danica Maxwell again. It's been a while since I've seen or heard from her.

I was hesitant about coming to this cottage that belongs to her. Although she'd given me the key to the cottage and told me that I could escape here whenever I needed peace from the world, I hadn't taken her up on her offer.

I figured she might be using it herself. And while I haven't heard from her in some time, I decided that at this point in my life was the best time to make use of that offer.

There were mountains of dust on everything when I arrived, and the place had a musty odor from being closed up for so long. The furniture had sun streaks on it from where the sun peeped through the curtains at different times of the day and shined only on sections of the furniture.

The refrigerator and freezer were both empty, but there were expired canned goods and boxed foods in the pantry and in the cabinets. I'd emptied all that out and spent the first week cleaning up and restocking the shelves, refrigerator, and freezer.

I had no set time of how long I intended to be here. And while I knew that I should call or text Danica to let her know that I was using the place, I wasn't in a hurry to notify anyone of where I was in the world.

I waited until I was settled in there for a day before I finally dialed her number. I received her voicemail, so I left her a message. That was four weeks ago. That first week, I called her numerous times with no reply.

After that, I called once a week. I still haven't heard from her, and I hope that everything is okay.

I hop out of the shower after washing my body and hair. As I towel myself dry, I hear a noise in the front of the cottage. Frowning, I wrap the towel around the lower half of my body and grab another one for my dripping hair.

I make my way to the front, calling out "Hello," wondering who has entered the cottage. I could have sworn I locked the door behind me, not that it was necessary but that's what I'm accustomed to doing.

"Hello," I call out again just as I step into the living room and see the curve of a very fine ass lifted high into the air.

She jumps and turns around with a shriek.

"Danica."

"Z? What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing, but uh...this is your cottage."

"You think," she asks, lifting an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, I uh...didn't know that you would be using it, and I needed some time away. I called numerous times."

"Yeah, um...I was taking a break from life for a minute," she says a bit shakily, looking me over from head to toe.

She looks uncomfortable and shouldn't be in her own place.

"Just give me a few minutes, and I can get my things together and leave," I say, jerking my hand in the direction of the bedroom I've been occupying.

Nodding, Danica says, "Okay."

Disappointment floods every part of me as I head back to the bedroom.

After I get dressed, I grab my suitcases and begin tossing items inside. Just as I'm zipping up the final one, Danica knocks at the door.

"Come in," I call out.

"Hey," she says, holding onto the doorknob as though she might bolt at any moment.

"What's up?"

"No need for you to leave. This is a three-bedroom cottage, and I think that we should be good as long as we stay out of each other's way. Besides, whenever I'm here, I normally spend most of my time at the beach."

Lifting one eyebrow as I recall the condition that the house was in upon my arrival I ask, "Do you even come here anymore?"

Turning her lips down and scowling, she says, "It's been a while since I've been here. You know life and all."

I nod slowly, wondering what she's been up to. I don't follow gossip blogs, celebrity magazines, or talk shows. As a matter of fact, I don't follow much of what happens in America. My focus is usually on Italy, Brazil, or the UK unless something notable happens in America.

"Well, like I said, you're good to stay. Besides, I don't plan on being around for long."

And though it shouldn't, sadness fills me with that statement. I cannot help the curiosity that arises within me.

"How long is not long, if you don't mind me asking?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, she answers, "Oh, a few days. A week at best."

Danica has always been that way, noncommittal about most things. It was one of the few things that agitated me about her. She had difficulty committing to anything, including me.

"I'm about to shower, change, and then head down to the beach," she says, supporting her earlier comment about spending most days down at the beach.

"Okay," I say and watch as she walks out of my room.

Of the three bedrooms at the cottage, two of them could be considered a master suite. They all have an en suite, small sitting rooms and a walkout leading to the deck. All three are decorated in beach colors: greys, blues, whites, and tans.

The room that I chose has a mural of the ocean against the night sky with the moon shining down on it and the sand below. The other room that Danica is in has seashells and sand everywhere, and she also has peach tones in her room.

The final bedroom has a mermaid motif.

Sitting on the bed, I drop my head into my hands.

"Why?" I grumble.

Of all the times that she chose to come, why would it have to be when I'm here? I knew that I ran the risk of seeing her when I decided to come here, but I also recalled that the few times we visited she shared with me then that she seldom used the cottage because she was always traveling.

When I arrived and saw that the cottage hadn't been opened in some time, and it was dusty and musty, I figured maybe it would be a while before she returned. My erroneous assumptions led me to become comfortable and allow myself to spend more time here, lingering in her absence.

I shake my head and start chuckling with the realization that perhaps a part of me hoped to run into her while I was here. Not that it will do me any good.

Being in Danica's presence can only lead to more heartbreak.

The last time she broke my heart, I made some poor decisions. I've never been a man to sleep around with any woman just because I can. There has to be a chemistry there, an undeniable bond that weaves us together, if not for a lifetime, at least for a time where a purpose is served beyond the sexual.

My breakup with Danica led me to three months of self-loathing and a downward spiral that no one could have predicted.

Pushing up off the bed, I head back out into the living area.

I hear her moving around in the bedroom, but rather than checking on her, I head back out the front door to give us both the space that both of our unexpected appearances require.

As I walk along the beach, a couple of ladies catch my eye, and they both walk my way.

"Hey, we were just looking for a final partner for a game of volleyball. You care to play with us?" the raven-haired woman asks.

"I uh...was just going for a quiet walk."

"Come on. I promise it will be loads of fun," the other woman with braids says.

Glancing back at the cottage, I think about Danica. I've spent most of my days hanging around that cottage watching Italy and Brazil both progress in the FIFA tournament. When I haven't been doing that, I've been meditating, cooking, working out, and mapping out a plan for my future.

The last thing that I need to do is be at that cottage right now. I need a distraction to keep my thoughts off Danica for as long as possible.

"Please," they both beg, pouting their lips out.

Laughing, I say, "Okay, okay. You've got me."

Both women grab one of my hands and tug me in the direction of the volleyball game. When I arrive, a cheer goes up as everyone excitedly jumps into position glad that the other team found another member to start the game.

After a rousing game of volleyball where my team won two games but lost three games, I'm sweaty and tired but feeling good.

"Hey," Amaris, the woman with the braids, catches up to me and touches my wrist. "A few of us are getting together tonight to just unwind. I think you'd be a wonderful addition to the group. Why don't you come back and join us tonight for a bonfire down here?" Amaris asks.

"I won't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do," I say, smiling down at her. "What time?"

"Around eight. Just before it gets dark, and the temperatures cool down."

"I'll definitely try to make it."

She smiles, and a dimple winks in her left cheek. "Okay, I'll be looking for you," she says.

"Should I bring anything?"

"No, just you. Oh, and we'll probably do a little swimming under the moonlight. That's always tons of fun. So, bring your swim trunks...or don't," she says with a suggestive smirk and a twinkle in her eyes.

I laugh, and she waves goodbye as she walks backward, backtracking down the beach to where her friends are.

Turning away from her, I run my fingers through my hair. I don't mind hanging out with them on the beach for a bonfire and having a little fun. What I don't want is to lead Amaris on in any way. She was a little bit touchy-feely during the game and all smiles.

Maybe that's just her way. I don't want to read anything into it that I shouldn't, but I didn't come here to jump into anything else with anyone, not a relationship or casual sex.

By the time I arrive back at the cottage, I see Danica lying out on the back deck off the kitchen. She looks to be getting a tan, and she's got earbuds in.

While I don't want to scare her, I want her to be aware of my presence. She's lying out in nothing but bikini bottoms with no top, and she's lying on her belly with her breasts pressed flat against the mauve and yellow striped towel that she's resting on.

I tap on the glass doors leading to the deck. She doesn't respond, and I tap again a little harder.

This time, she turns her head and looks up at me. I can't read her expression because she's wearing dark-tinted sunglasses, but she isn't smiling.

"Hey," I say, opening the door. "I was just about to make me something for lunch. Are you hungry?"

I know that this is her cottage, and we have to get along, but I don't know why I'm making peace with her. I guess it's just in my nature to be at peace with people and not at odds.

Slowly, a smile takes over her face, curving those gorgeous plump lips that I once loved to kiss.

"Sure. I love your cooking," she says, sitting up and allowing her sun-kissed breasts to be dazzled by the sun.

I swallow because while I didn't come here looking for anything, I cannot deny the strong attraction and feelings that I have for Danica and have always had.

"Just making BLTs and a salad. Does that work for you?"

"Yep."

I close the door, wash my hands, and prepare to fix our meal.

I hum a little while I work, and Danica makes an appearance in the kitchen about fifteen minutes later.

"Where did you disappear to?" she asks, walking into the kitchen and pulling a t-shirt over her uncovered breasts.

"Um, down to the beach for a game of volleyball."

"Oh, you've made friends since you've been here?" she asks, pulling the refrigerator open and removing a glass bottle of water.

"Not really. I was just out taking a walk, and some people came up to me and invited me to join their volleyball game. They needed one more person to complete their team."

Danica's eyes are hard on me as she takes a swig of water.

"Girl?"

"What?"

"Was it a girl who approached you?"

"Two of them, actually. Why?"

"Just not surprised. You were always a gorgeous man. Sexy, I might add."

Laughing uncomfortably and shaking my head as I chop the tomatoes, I say, "Nothing like that. Just a game of volleyball."

"Mm."

"But they did invite me back for a bonfire tonight. Think you might want to come?" I ask, although I hadn't committed myself to going.

"I don't know. I didn't come here for all that."

"Neither did I, but it won't hurt."

"No one knows you like that here. You can move around in anonymity and be okay. I don't have that luxury," she says softly before turning and walking away.

I wonder what she meant by that comment.

Yet, I know Danica well enough to know that when she doesn't want to talk about something, she won't. There's no need to push her. I'll just have to bide my time until she's ready.