The bedroom is still dark when I next open my eyes. I must have rolled over at some point, because my head is against a pillow now, and I'm facing the bedside table I left my phone on.
There's also a buzzing sound I can't place. Is my phone making the noise? Or is it Phoenix's phone, wherever that ended up after I moved it? My eyes scan the darkness for the source.
It takes a second, but my sleep-addled brain finally recognizes what I hear is a chainsaw. The sound is from outside somewhere, and not from something in the room, but it's loud. No wonder I woke up.
I turn over to see if Phoenix is awake and discover his side of the bed is empty. Did he end up on the sofa? Things between us were peaceful when I drifted off last night, so I know I didn't kick him out. Maybe he couldn't sleep. I reach over to touch the indentation on his pillow. It's still warm, which means he couldn't have left very long ago.
The sound of running water interrupts my thoughts. I listen more closely, and I barely make it out over the revving from the chainsaw, but now I realize Phoenix is brushing his teeth in the bathroom. What time is it that he's already up?
I'm debating between reaching for my phone to check the time and pulling the duvet over my ears to muffle the chainsaw noise, when a sliver of light spills into the room. It only lasts for a split second—long enough for me to also realize the power is back on—and then Phoenix emerges from the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe. He glances at the bed as he heads toward the bedroom door, then stops when he sees me watching him.
"Hey." My voice is raspy from sleep.
"Hey. Did I wake you up?" He changes direction and walks over to the bed. The mattress dips slightly when he sits next to me.
"No, I think it was the chainsaw."
"I was just going to check on that and see if someone is removing the tree. Go back to sleep if you can. It's early." He brushes a strand of my hair away from my eyes, then rests his hand against my cheek.
I turn my head and touch my lips to his palm. It happens like a reflex, and before I'm aware I'm doing it, much like my wandering hand last night. Again with the old habits. It feels like we've rewound time.
I move my head again, so my mouth isn't against his hand. "Are you coming back to bed?"
"I'll be back in a minute." He leans over and drops an air-light kiss on my forehead.
Maybe it's the feeling of waking up in his bed, after falling asleep in his arms. Maybe it's how gentle he's being with me, or that I'm coming down from the emotional rollercoaster of yesterday and recalling what he said last night. Whatever it is, I suddenly want to nudge his head down so his mouth covers mine.
He stands up before I decide if I should act on the impulse or not. Then I remember I've been asleep for several hours. If this is a sign of how the morning might go, I should also brush my teeth to be prepared.
I wait for Phoenix to leave the room, and then I slip out from under the duvet and head for the bathroom. He's already back when I return, his bathrobe strewn over the chair in the corner. He tries to keep a straight face while I climb into bed, but it's obvious he heard what I was doing and likely suspects why.
"Don't act like you didn't brush your teeth five minutes ago," I tell him.
He laughs softly at this. "I didn't say anything."
"Your face gave you away. I could ask why you did it first at whatever ungodly hour of still-dark-outside it is, you know."
"You could. And it's five-thirty."
As much as I want to know what he would say if I asked him why, point blank, I settle for curling up next to him and resting my head on his shoulder. The past is still far from being water under the bridge, but something has changed since yesterday. The energy between us seems more comfortable now, even if the touch of his fingertips running up and down my arm is sending my mind places it definitely shouldn't be at this stage of things.
"When do you go back to Vegas?" I ask instead.
"This afternoon or tonight, if the roads are clear. The storm looks like it's over."
"Didn't you get here on Friday?"
"I did. Friday night."
I do the mental math. He's been here for less than thirty-six hours, and he's already leaving later today. A lot of the time he's been here has been with me, and that raises a new question.
"Were you already planning to be here last weekend when you asked to see me?" I glance up at him. His sheepish expression is my answer.
"Does the second or two before I said I would be here and asked to see you count as planning?" He gives me a hopeful smile.
Unless I'm missing something, Phoenix came to Laguna Beach to see me and that's all, even though he didn't know how long I would stay when I pulled into his driveway yesterday.
"Did you only drive here this weekend to see me?" I'm ninety-nine percent certain of this, but I have to ask anyway.
"Guilty. And I'd like to do it again soon, if you'll let me." He says it casually, but there's a hitch in his breath, like he's holding it while he waits for my reply.
Is he nervous about me saying no, even after our conversation last night, and even though I was the one who just initiated snuggling with him? Does he have any idea that the smallest touches from him are lighting my body on fire this morning, or that I was two seconds away from trying to kiss him earlier, morning breath or not?
"Oh yeah?" I do my best to sound equally as casual. "When were you thinking?"
"I was wondering if I could take you out for your birthday, or on a day that's close to it if you already have plans."
My birthday is next Saturday. I'm always pretty low-key about it, and I was mostly going to ignore turning thirty. It helps that Ava has to be in New York for a client event all of next weekend, but she's still insisting we have a postponed celebration with a few of our friends the following week. Despite my mixed feelings about my twenties being over, it hits me that I really do want to spend time with him that day.
"I would like that."
"I'll plan something in L.A. and drive to you this time. No more of this getting stuck in a house in a storm stuff." He presses his mouth against the crown of my hair, and then he loops his arm around me. "The storm looked like it was over when I checked, by the way. They should be finished clearing the tree by the time we get up."
Right. Time still exists, and so does life outside of this cocoon of him and me. We're going to get out of bed at some point in the next few hours, and I'll go home after that. Phoenix will drive back to Las Vegas later. This moment will end, but I'm not ready for it to yet. At least not without finding out one more thing.
"There's something we should talk about before I go home today." I place my hand on his chest. This time, when I trace patterns along his skin, I'm fully aware of what I'm doing.
"Of course. Anything."
"What you said last night, about trying not to come on too strong. Does that mean you aren't planning to kiss me until after you take me out?"
There's a pause, like he's thinking about how to respond. "It doesn't have to be when we go out for your birthday," he finally says. "I won't try to do that until you want to, if you do."
If I do? I guess I need to make something clear.
"I'm glad it doesn't have to be then." I tilt my head up to look at him. "Because I want to, and I don't really want to wait until my birthday. It's already been a minute or six years of minutes, wouldn't you say?"
I watch him take this in. He's silent for a moment, and now I'm afraid he'll hesitate and ask me if I'm sure, like he did when I suggested he sleep in here last night. Then his face brightens like someone turned up the sun.
"So you're saying now is okay?" Phoenix shifts his position on the bed so he's facing me, and then reaches out to stroke his thumb along my jawline. He traces it over my lips next, and that alone sets my nerve endings ablaze.
It still isn't what I want.
"If I have to spell it out for--" The rest of my sentence disappears when he presses his mouth against mine.
I close my eyes and sink into the feeling of kissing him again after so many years. And God, does he remember what to do. The way he cradles my face in his hand and focuses on my bottom lip first, soft and sweet and slow, it makes me think I might combust from the anticipation of more. There's a gentle nibble, and then his tongue sweeps over my lip, teasing me. I nudge him upward and feel him smile before my mouth parts under his and I let instinct take over as our kiss deepens. My hand snakes up his back and I pull him closer, like we can't be close enough, and like the growing heat of our lips crushed together can't be intense enough.
We're both breathing in shallow bursts when Phoenix slows our kiss down. It's probably the right decision, since there are other places this could easily lead to if he feels even a fraction of what I do. I give us credit, because we haven't yet let our hands or lips wander to places I'm sure we're both tempted to go. Even so, the desire pooling in me from our kiss already has me questioning my self-control, and there's still so much I need to figure out when it comes to him.
Lord, though, the chemistry we still have between us.
When we finally break apart and I open my eyes, the first things I notice are Phoenix's flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, and the absolute tenderness he radiates. My brain is a mush of nonsensical thoughts, and his might be the same, because he wraps his arms around me and simply holds me without saying a word.
I've never been more thankful for atmospheric rivers and fallen trees than I am right now.
༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻
I'm still thinking about the morning and our kiss after I get home that afternoon. I go through the motions of showering, changing into different clothes, and pulling out my laptop to write, but my mind is still sixty miles away in Laguna Beach and reliving those predawn hours.
There are things I need to do, like answering Ava's text messages before she sends out a search party for me. When I finally looked at my phone today, I had a slew of messages from her that started last night and resumed this morning. The last message from her was a question about if I'd spent the night with Phoenix, only she phrased it in a much more R-rated way.
I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I type to her now. Everything is good.
I send the cryptic text and put my phone down. There are still some things I want to process before I talk to Ava about the last twenty-four hours, and I don't know if I want to tell her everything. Not yet, when all of this is still so new and delicate.
It's funny. Yesterday, around this time, I was in tears and irrationally envious of someone I've never met, and who isn't even alive, for being the force that made Phoenix get his life together again when I couldn't. Now I'm grateful to Len for her part in bringing him back to me.
I didn't ask him anything more about her before I left today. My questions about her didn't even cross my mind while we laid together in bed, or while he made us pancakes for breakfast. But now, alone in my apartment, I'm curious about who she was.
I pick up my phone again and open Instagram. It's a long shot, but maybe I can find an old picture of her in Phoenix's posts somewhere. I blocked him on social media after we broke up—it was something else Ava had me do, right after I deleted him from my contacts—so I haven't kept up with what he's posted over the years.
There are surprisingly few photos on his profile. Most of what's there is film-related, and from the days when he had the lead role in a few major movies. The most recent post on his page is from four years ago, but it makes sense. He all but vanished after North Node, and that's when the posts stopped.
I'm about to close the app when I remember he said Nash also knew Len. I can't remember Nash's last name, so I go to Torin's profile and look through some of his band posts. When I find one Nash is tagged in, I tap his name.
Most of Nash's recent posts are band photos, but I keep scrolling to the older ones. A familiar image brings my scrolling to a stop. It's a missing person poster for Elenna Ilke. I've seen it dozens of times, especially while researching her case for my book.
Did Nash know Elenna, or was he one of the countless people sharing the poster back then? I tap on the post. There's a caption under it.
Please be safe, Len. Please come home. I miss you.
I read the caption again. Len. Is Nash's nickname for Elenna a coincidence, or is she the same person Phoenix knew?
My mind skips back to yesterday, when Phoenix asked about the novel I'm writing. He was aware of the high-level details. Presuming Elenna is Len, did he put the pieces together and realize the missing woman it's based on is her? If he did, why didn't he mention he knew her?
It could be a coincidence, but there's also a chance it isn't. And now there are a few things I'm curious about, starting with exactly what Ava told Torin about my book during the FaceTime call Phoenix overheard.
༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻
I'll admit there was originally going to be more of a slow burn before Del and Phoenix finally kissed. Then, as I wrote other scenes, this one materialized and I couldn't help myself.😇
Stayed tuned, though! Even though the two of them have kissed now and have oh so many feelings, there's a LOT more of this story still to come.