Tuesday Tales word prompt Airport

Welcome to another Tuesday Tales.  This week's word prompt is Airport.

The low-slung morning sun cast its faded glow over the frosted boughs of the surrounding trees. Rosie couldn’t believe it. The previous day’s temperature had soared into the high teens, and now, the following morning, she’d woken to winter in the middle of summer. Well not really summer, but almost. The May buds no longer burst with promise but hung limply at the end of brown fingered branches.

Shattered expectations.

She knew all about them, Rosie thought. First a marriage with the love of her life, a marriage that lasted six months, thanks to a rogue deer, and then when she knew better than to trust a playboy prince he’d gone swanning off without a word and left her waiting alone.

Alone again, since Cal was staying with his surrogate aunt and uncle up at the farm.

The sound of an overhead aircraft re-directed her thoughts. How many people were flying off to an adventure of a lifetime? Where had they come from and where were they going? Unlike the Gasquet princes, they’d start from a regular airport. Heathrow, Glasgow, somewhere in the English Midlands. Or was it arriving home from some exotic destination?

With a shake of her head, Rosie swallowed the last of her early-morning coffee and headed for a shower. Perhaps the hot water would wash some sense into her. Or perhaps it would wash away this fit of dismals she’d woken to.

If only he’d roused her before he’d left—but what good did it do to dream? If dreams came true Sacha would walk through the steam in her bathroom, strip and join her in the shower. She sighed, reached for her towel and shrieked when it was handed to her.

Holding it in front of her, Rosie peaked through the gap in the plastic shower curtains she’d never remembered to replace.

Her pounding heart almost deafened her. “I thought you’d gone.”

His grin slid off his face when Sacha saw the fear in Rosie’s eyes, and before he could engage his brain in rational thought, he pulled her out of the shower and hard up against his chest. “I did, but without saying ‘goodbye’ my heart refused to come with me.”

His lips crushed down on hers while his arms banded round her waist. Then he froze before shifting back and away from her.

“Get dressed woman, or I will not be responsible for the consequences.”

His muttered, ‘What was I thinking, coming back like this?’ accompanied him out of the bathroom, and the slam of her bedroom door indicated he’d retreated downstairs, probably to the kitchen.

She reached for her panties and pulled them up her slim legs and over her hips before reaching for her bra.

Would the fool man leave again still without saying ‘goodbye’, she wondered, and hauled her midnight t-shirt over her head. A muffled thump followed by a curse lifted the corners of her lips. Not yet, at least, she almost laughed aloud. He’d come back to say ‘goodbye.’

Suddenly the warmth of the room disappeared. Did Sacha mean ‘goodbye’ as in forever—she hauled a pair of dun-coloured slacks on and snapped the stud closed. Or did his goodbye resemble the French equivalent of au revoir?

Grabbing her toothbrush she scrubbed her teeth with unnecessary vigor. Goodbye was goodbye in any language. What right did she have to hope that offering him her spare bedroom last night meant he wanted more from her unless it was for a short sharp fling. And, she shoved the toothbrush back in its holder, she didn’t do ‘flings.’

Perhaps, she thought as she ran downstairs, she could offer to drive him to the airport, that way she’d know where he left and arrived from without being too obvious about it. With her hand on the kitchen doorknob, Rosemary huffed.

Why was she even given his arrivals and departure destinations a moment’s thought? He’d stayed overnight, and when he left he’d be back on the King’s Jubilee jamboree, flitting all over the world to promote his father’s successful 25 year reign. Mixing with all the beauties in his own world, why would he give her a second thought, after all, what was that saying? ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’

Giving herself a mental shake at her stupidity in even allowing her dreams and fantasies headroom, she opened the door and skidded to an abrupt halt.

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