“I’d let you two sleep longer,” she said, stroking Robin’s hair while looking at me, “but there are some men from the insurance company who are coming by. They want to talk about the crash.”
I nodded and let go of Robin, who rolled to the floor with a grace I hadn’t seen from her before. Our time in the wild had taught her a lot about herself. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, trying to convey appreciation for all sorts of things in just those two words.
That she didn’t ask any questions about how or why we ended up on the couch sleeping together was just the beginning. I’m sure that both she and my Father, who I’d taken to calling Dad more often after our embrace, could see that something had changed between Robin and me. Neither of them pushed the issue, and I wasn’t quite sure if they suspected something between us or if they just assumed it was that we’d grew closer from going through the whole crash ordeal. Robin and I hadn’t discussed the issue much either, although we both could see looking into the other’s eyes that we would have to have a reckoning about it at some point, the sooner the better. I’m not sure how long either of us could keep this up.
The meeting with the insurance company went better than I had expected. The medical examiner had determined that the pilot had died of a stroke, which had paralyzed him and caused him to send the plane into its final descent. Since neither Robin nor I sustained serious injuries—and let’s face it, our family didn’t need the money—I was more than willing to donate my check to the pilot’s wife, who had been left a widow with two children. Robin did the same thing. Afterward, the two of us went on a walk through the grounds of the mansion, which sat on about ten acres.
“So what now?” Robin asked me as we walked, looking beautiful in normal jeans and a sweatshirt. “I mean, where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know,” I said, looking at the trees on the grounds, so different from the pines of the Canadian forest. These were hardwoods, elms and oaks mostly, that Dad had carefully cultivated by gardeners. “I do know I don’t want to go back to the way things were.”
“What do you mean?” Robin said, her eyes still darting around. It was a habit that died hard, constantly looking out for danger. I know that instinct firsthand.
I stopped and took her hands, knowing we were alone and out of sight. “Robin, I love you, and I’m not going to just chalk up what has happened between us to the effects of a plane crash. We made love because we wanted to, because you love me and I love you. And I don’t want to let that go just because it’s going to be difficult explaining it to everyone.”
Robin looked me in my eyes, those obsidian depths of hers boring into my soul for a moment before smiling and kissing my nose. “Good, because I feel the exact same way. I have no damn clue how we’re supposed to tell Mom and Dad, but we’ll figure it out.” She seemed giddy, and it gave me confidence in what I knew we’d soon have to do.
Our walk back to the house was amazing. We both walked in silence, not saying a word, but just walked hand in hand. As we neared the house, though, we exchanged a glance and let go. It was clear we were going to continue our relationship, but we weren’t quite ready to tell the world.
When we got finally reached the house, Rebekah was smiling and waiting for us, and I could see by the look in her eyes that she had something interesting to share with us.
“What is it?”
“Well, we just got a call from CNN. How would you guys like to do an interview?”
Robin
The studio was a lot less glamorous than I thought it would be. I mean, I had anticipated that most of the decoration would be in front of the camera, but other than the stage settings, the entire sound stage was more or less a warehouse. The catering area was set up on folding tables that I swore came from Wal-Mart, although the food was pretty good. Tawny, the production assistant who had met us at the Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, hovered over both of us as we went through makeup, which I thought was kind of funny.
Watching Wes try to sit still while they applied foundation, color, and everything else left me suppressing giggles like a schoolgirl. I knew he had to be in torture, but watching a man’s man like him sit there and endure it was hilarious. Wes gave me a look that told me he knew exactly what I was amused about.
Before he could say anything, the reporter came over, and I had to admit I was a little star struck. Sarah Washington wasn’t the top interviewer for CNN, but she was one of their weekend morning hosts, and she was exactly what news agencies looked for in a television personality. Tall, blonde, leggy, with just enough cleavage to tease without looking slutty. She looked like that hot teacher or the sexy executive that every man has a fantasy about, if you know what I mean.