Nights in Rodanthe - Nicholas Sparks [41]
Wrapping the towel around her, she went to her suitcase. Force of habit made her reach for jeans and a sweater, but after pulling them out, she set them aside. If I’m serious about changing the way I’m going to live, she thought, I may as well start now.
She hadn’t brought much else with her, certainly nothing fancy, but she did have a pair of black pants and a white blouse that Amanda had bought her for Christmas. She’d brought those along in the vague hope that she might head out one evening, and though she wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed as good a time as any to put them on.
She dried her hair with a blow dryer and curled it. Makeup came next: mascara and a dusting of blush, lipstick she’d bought at Belk’s a few months back but had seldom used. Leaning toward the mirror, she added a trace of eye shadow, just enough to accent the color of her eyes, as she’d done in the early years of her marriage.
When she was ready, she tugged at the blouse until it hung just right, smiling at what she saw. It had been far too long since she’d last looked like this.
She left the bedroom, and as she passed through the kitchen, she could smell the coffee. It was what she would normally drink on a day like this, especially since it was still the afternoon, but instead of pouring a cup, she retrieved the last bottle of wine in the refrigerator, then grabbed the corkscrew and a couple of glasses, feeling worldly, as if she were finally in control.
Carrying it all to the sitting room, she saw that Paul had started the fire, and it had somehow changed the room, as if anticipating the way she was feeling. Paul’s face was glowing in the flames, and though she was quiet, she knew he could sense her presence. He turned around to say something, but when he saw Adrienne, no words came out of his mouth. All he could do was stare at her.
“Too much?” she finally asked.
Paul shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No… not at all. You look… beautiful.”
Adrienne gave a shy smile. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, a voice from long ago.
They continued to stare at each other until Adrienne finally lifted the bottle slightly. “Would you like some wine?” she asked. “I know you have coffee, but with the storm, I thought it might be nice.”
Paul cleared his throat. “That sounds great. Would you like me to open the bottle?”
“Unless you like bits of cork in your wine, you’d better. I never did get the hang of those things.”
When Paul rose from his chair, she handed the corkscrew to him. He opened the bottle with a series of quick movements, and Adrienne held both glasses as he poured. He set the bottle on the table and took his glass as they sat in the rockers. She noticed they were closer together than they had been the day before.
Adrienne took a sip of wine, then lowered the glass, pleased with everything: the way she looked and felt, the taste of the wine, the room itself. The flickering fire made shadows dance around them. Rain was sheeting itself against the walls.
“This is lovely,” she said. “I’m glad you made a fire.”
In the warming air, Paul caught a trace of the perfume she was wearing, and he shifted in his chair. “I was still cold after being outside,” he said. “It seems to take a little longer every year for me to warm up.”
“Even with all that exercise? And here I thought you were holding back the ravages of time.”
He laughed softly. “I wish.”
“You seem to be doing okay.”
“You don’t see me in the mornings.”
“But don’t you run then?”
“Before that, I mean. When I first get out of bed, I can barely move. I hobble like an old man. All that running has taken its toll over the years.”
As they moved their rockers back and forth, he could see the reflection of the fire flickering in her eyes.
“Have you heard from your kids today?” he asked, trying not to stare at Adrienne