It’s been weeks since I signed the papers and Richard, Lily’s father and my attorney, told me that we’ve been scheduled for a hearing in late November.

I thought a hearing wouldn’t be necessary since our divorce is consensual, but Richard told me that every once in a while, the court might require a routine hearing.

Lucky me.

Ever since he gave me the news, I’ve been in a rut. I haven’t been able to do anything all morning, and I want to cry. I can’t even figure out why, exactly. I’m not sure if I’m more distraught about the hearing date, that my divorce is about to become a reality, or that I will need to leave my temporary home at some point. I know that I’ll have to go back and move my stuff from my LA home, but I hate the idea of going back with a passion. Just thinking about leaving this place and going back to LA makes me depressed. My body feels heavy, and I can’t find any reasons to smile about it. Not even the thought of seeing Lily again or visiting my parents’ grave makes it better.

Is it possible that New Mexico has gotten so far under my skin that just the thought of leaving depresses me? In the meantime, I decide to enjoy my time here, and try to decide what to do after the divorce. Things between Esteban and me are getting serious, but neither one of us has spoken about the future yet.

“If I move out here, will you sell me this truck?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it. Esteban promised to take me to the Elena Gallegos Open Space, and before we left, I offered to drive.

He smiled and threw me the keys.

“If you move out here, I will give you the truck,” he says without missing a beat, making me realize my words haven’t fazed him one bit. This is the first time either one of us has mentioned anything about the future.

“That’s nice of you, but it’s not necessary. Or maybe I should look for one like this, and have it painted the same shade of turquoise. We could have twin trucks.” I wink at him, and a chuckle escapes his lips before they curl into an amused grin.

“I’m not opposed to the idea.”

“Do I keep going straight?” I ask when I reach the next intersection on the old state highway where we’re driving. He’s giving me directions, since he’s been to the place many, many times.

“Actually, before we go to the park, there’s a place I want to show you. Take a left here, we’re going on a little detour,” he says.

I quirk an eyebrow at him, curious.

“Where are we going first?”

“You’ll see.” A knowing smile stretches across his face, and I frown. “I have a feeling you’re going to like this.”

“Okay,” I reply with a shrug. Esteban’s directions take us away from the main highway we were on, and eventually he leads us into a residential area. If I’m not mistaken, we’re on the northeast side of Albuquerque.

We pass rows upon rows of small, fifties-style suburban family homes.

“Park over here on the right,” Esteban says.

I do as he asks, frowning, while he has a smug smile painted across his face.

“I’m confused. Why are we here?” I ask, looking around. Are we here to see someone in particular? Why did we need to stop now? I hope we’re not going to miss the sunset, the whole reason why we’re even going to the Gallegos Open Space.

He points his finger to an unassuming little house across the street.

“Jim Morrison lived in that house when he was twelve.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, my voice higher than usual.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.” My mouth is agape, while my eyes dart between the house and Esteban, who shrugs.

“Albuquerque, you fascinating, mysterious thing,” I mutter to myself. “By the way, how did you know I would like this? Can you read minds?” I mumble, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Your shirt, Ines,” he laughs and I roll my eyes.

“Duh. Of course.” I look down at my faded The Doors “Waiting For the Sun” sleeveless T-shirt, with a big orange sun and the silhouettes of the members of the band I’d decided to wear on our outing. I’d paired it with a long, white eyelet skirt I got from a boutique on Central Avenue.

I smile, pursing my lips, looking at Esteban’s bright, amused green eyes for a moment.

“Jim Morrison lived in that house? Huh.”

“Apparently between the ages of twelve and fourteen. A very nice lady owns it, but some local fans have been talking about turning it into a museum someday.”

“Imagine that. I had no idea.”

“The owner of the house claims that she’s heard an organ play before in one of the rooms of the house.”

“No way!” I pause to think. “Wait. That’s bullshit. Jim Morrison didn’t play any instruments.”

“He did play the synth on Strange Days and the piano on Orange County Suite.”

I frown and Esteban shrugs. “I looked it up,” he says simply.

“Huh. I wonder if it’s really the ghost of Jim Morrison, or someone else’s.”

“I knew you were going to like that,” he laughs.

“You might not believe me, but I’ve never been fascinated with ghost stories before moving to Albuquerque.”

Esteban stares longingly at me, without saying a word.

“What’s up?”

“Is there something I should know? Did you move to Albuquerque permanently?” he asks with the shy smile of a guy who doesn’t want to pry.

I let out a laugh. “Oh, that. Well, you know what I meant…” I give him a knowing look. Truthfully, I didn’t even realize that’s what I’d said, but in a way I do feel like I’m putting roots down out here in the desert.

Esteban nods, as if my answer disappointed him.

“We should go, before with miss the sunset,” he says in a warm, soft tone, and not an ounce of resentment.

“Yes! Let’s go.” I look before pulling out of the parking spot, and I give one last look at the house where Jim Morrison once lived, and I start mumbling the lyrics of “Moonlight Drive.”

Esteban feeds me directions and we drive in silence for a while after we get on the interstate.

I decide to ask him a few questions hoping to lighten up the mood.

“So, you never told me how many girls you’ve brought up here.”

He laughs. “Might I remind you that this was your idea, Ines.”

“Yes, it was. And you said, ‘I know that place well.’”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he laughs, rubbing his elbow with one hand, partly amused, partly sheepish.

“Park. Sunset. It’s the perfect spot to make out.”

“Is that why you’re bringing me out there?” he jokes.

“Maybe,” I reply, wiggling my eyebrows.

Although I love my view of the mountains, it faces east. I looked up online and found that the park is one of the best places where you can admire the sunset. It sits at 6,500 feet, with the Jemez Mountains to the north, and the vast Tijeras Arroyo to the south.

“So, you won’t tell me how many girls you’ve brought up here? Not even a ballpark number?”

He laughs again, a bit embarrassed. “You’re impossible. A few, okay? A few.”

“Fine, I’ll settle with ‘a few.’” I smile, glancing briefly in his direction. He looks sheepish. “What?”

“Since we are on the subject, I have to come clean about something. I should have told you sooner, and I realize it’s pretty shitty of me.”

“Oh?” I wonder what that’s about. I shrug. “Come on, tell me.”

“You know the place you’re renting, right? Do you remember how Lupe said it used to be a storage room? I might have brought a couple of girls to…you know, fool around there.”

I snort. “In a dusty storage room? Esteban!”

“It wasn’t that dirty…you know how it is, when you’re a horny teenager and you don’t have your driver’s license yet. Your options are limited.”

“No, I don’t know how that is. I lost my virginity when I was seventeen and my boyfriend was only a few months older than me.”

“I was fifteen.”

“Fifteen? With whom?”

“She was older than me, and a friend of Lupe’s.”

“Oh my God. Young Esteban Garcia, the heartbreaker.”

“She was the one who actually broke my heart. Dumped me for an older dude. We also had to keep our relationship secret because of Lupe. She never would have approved.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” I can picture a younger, even feistier teenage Lupe completely losing her shit at the news that her younger brother is fucking her friend in the family store storage room. “So, how many girls have you fucked in there…before me?” He winces at my bluntness, but I shrug. It isn’t that big a deal, although I find it funny that he’s kept it from me.

“Just…two.”

I approach an intersection, stopping at the stop sign. He looks like he’s holding back, so I offer some encouragement.

“You can tell me anything, Esteban. I know we’ve only known each other a few months, but I want you to be able to tell me anything.”

His eyes widen as if I just struck him, and he stares at me for a while.

I make it across the intersection and keep my eyes on the road, but I sense his gaze on me. A few seconds later, when I turn to him, he’s smiling at me and his eyes are a bit glossy.

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?” He shakes his head and smiles. I look around. “Where am I supposed to go next?”

“Turn left. There should be a parking lot coming up.”

We reach the deserted parking lot and I put the truck in park. I sigh as I watch the gigantic orange sun starting to drop from the horizon. It takes my breath away. It looks like a scene out of a western movie, when the hero has just faced and survived the most dangerous mission of his life, but usually in this kind of movie the ending is bittersweet. Lives have been lost, he has to bid goodbye to the woman he can’t marry because he can’t offer her the security and the life she needs, and then he mounts his horse, ready for his next adventure.

The sun is setting, another day is over, and the date of my divorce hearing is nearing. Yet, it’s not completely bittersweet. I’m hopeful. I start pondering, albeit with a heart full of butterflies, if this is the place for me. I like my life here, and I hate the thought of saying goodbye to Esteban. But I know that I shouldn’t uproot my life just because of a man…even if it’s a man I’m more than crazy about. I love him, and I know he loves me. Would it be really stupid to follow my heart?

I lace my fingers with Esteban’s. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“Technically, you took us.”

“Thank you for coming along?”

“Of course,” he says, kissing my hand.

We’re quiet for a while, and I wrap his arm around me, scooting closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder as the sun becomes smaller and smaller until it’s a small orange slice and the sky starts changing color.

“Ines?”

“Hmmm?”

“About the apartment…”

“What about it?” I ask, straightening in the truck seat.

“There’s something else I wanted to say. I’ve…fucked two girls in there before.” His voice is almost a whisper and fuck me if it doesn’t sound sexy when he says fucked. “But I only made love to one,” he says, eyes dark and wide, fixed on mine, lips full, slightly parted. I reach, and my thumb strokes his bottom lip.

“I love you too, Esteban. So much,” I tell him before I mold my lips to his and capture his tongue in my mouth, surrendering to the spark of pure, unadulterated lust.

The need for him overtakes my body like a rush, and in a matter of seconds I’m straddling him, thankful I decided to wear a skirt. His hands roam up my thighs and land on my ass, pressing me against him while mine travel from his face, down his chest, to his belt buckle. I fumble with it, and he helps me, lifting his hips to push his jeans down.

He reaches for a condom in the pocket of his jeans, and when he rolls it on, I take it in my hand and stroke it as he breathes in and out slowly. I meet his lust-filled eyes as I’m touching him, watching his feral, sexy-as-sin, turned-on expression before I guide it inside of me.

I start moving on top of him as the sky outside darkens, and soon I’m completely lost to the feel of him when we’re close like this, still half clothed, crazy for each other just as we have been since day one. His fingers travel under my tee to touch my breast and when he lifts it up and takes one of my breasts out, wrapping his mouth around a nipple, I’m frantic for him, moving faster up and down his length. As our movements increase in speed and my breath becomes shallow, I pull at the hair on his neck, cupping his jaw with my other hand and he looks at me, deep and hungry, even though he’s inside of me.

“I’m yours, Esteban. I’m yours,” I murmur, and I kiss him.

“Yes, you are. You’re mine,” he replies in low growl, digging his fingers deeper into my flesh, bringing me closer to him. I kiss him over and over, slow and tenderly, frantic and passionately, and when I reach the brink of pleasure I muffle my moans biting his cotton-clad shoulder. He climaxes a few seconds later, his body trembling under mine, his arms tightly wrapped around me.

For the next few minutes, I do nothing but listen to his breathing slowing down.