27. PAUL

Istirred from my slumber, and I found myself alone in bed. The warmth of Jack’s physical presence next to mine had vanished. He was not with me. As I lay in the suddenly vast expanse of our bed, its half-emptiness perturbed me.

I threw back the covers, the air momentarily cold on my naked body. I turned to look at his side of the bed, tracing the outline of his shape on the mattress, my fingertips running over the creases of the empty sheets where his weight, his maleness, had lain. I had no reason to doubt him, and yet, what was this uncertainty?

I rose from the bed, my bare feet touching the cold of the hard wooden floor. I padded through the apartment, but Jack was not there. He must have gone to work. The air hung heavy with the scent of coffee from the Nespresso machine, and when I touched it, it was still very vaguely warm.

He could not have been gone long.

Then, on the kitchen countertop, I saw a small note folded neatly. Picking it up, I unfolded the paper and read what he had written in firm black ink.

Had to head into the office early.

See you there.

Jack

It had such a weird formality.

See you there…

***

I decided to shower. I went into the bathroom and set the shower to run. A warm plume of steam surrounded me like a cocoon almost instantly. The gushing of the thunderous torrent of water drowned out all other sounds.

I went to the shower. As I stood beneath the cascading spray, I let the hard, hot force of the water hit me. The firm caress of water on my skin gave me a little solace. If nothing else, I had known the sweetness of intimacy, closeness, and passion with another man.

If I went back to New York with nothing else, I had that: I knew that that was what I wanted. And as I stood with the water running over the top of my head, over every naked inch of my body, I remembered something.

I had had my eyes closed under the water, but now I opened them.

I had told Jack that I loved him.

I was in love with him.

I had told him the truth, and he had left, leaving just a note.