It's raining for the third night in a row.
Inconvenienced New Yorkers scurry down the wet sidewalks, umbrellas clutched in their fists. Deep puddles are forming along the perimeters of street curbs. Cabs are scarce. She can hear the insentient pattering as she peers from her office window to the world beneath.
Olivia lets a heavy sigh leave her lips. The last few weeks have been hell. She caught a case, a big one – the kind that finds her and the squad working long nights, sleeping in shifts on the stiff mattress that inhabit the crib. There had been several cups of shitty gas station coffee, and stiff backs and necks from the hours spent tailing their suspect in their company-issued sedans.
She only removed her holster from her hip twice in four days. Both times to take a quick unsatisfying shower in the locker room.
At first the distraction had been welcomed, even when it kept her from her son's bedtime. But here she is at the end of a 96-hour stint and she doesn't want to go home. She desperately wants to see her son, but she doesn't want to deal with the unwelcomed thoughts that come soon after she's tucked him in for the night.
She used to be good at night.
The same isolation she is avoiding made her a stellar detective once. Before, she used the deep cover of night to pour over impossible cases. She looked-over victim statements, reworked alibis and motives. She would use the dark concealment to reanalyze crime scene photos, often taking their violent images with her to bed. She owes her career to the night.
Now the thought of returning to that life makes her body ache.
She misses him, and that makes her body ache, too.
She had made the decision to end their relationship because she didn't know what else to do. She couldn't offer a solution to their mounting issues, so she did what she always does, she let him go before his waiting around turned into resentment. Before he realized she wasn't the one who could give him all the things he desired.
She had let him in, and she regrets it a little – feels guilty about it.
If she had been more careful this wouldn't have happened to them. It took months to iron out the expanse of their relationship. It had been complicated from the start – but there was reassurance in the way that he held her, looked at her, cared for her son. If she hadn't said yes so willingly to his affections, to his words of a future together she wouldn't have hurt him.
She shouldn't have told him she loved him.
She finally let the words leave her lips, on a night much like this. It was raining and she was curled into him. Their sweaty bare limbs were tangled in one another. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, she felt warm, slated, and could tell he was close to sleep.
She felt so safe when she was this close to him. So she gave the internal guard she normally kept working overtime the night off.
She whispered the words softly against his skin and she felt him clutch her tighter. He rolled her over then, his face burying itself in her neck, her hair. He pressed his lips to hers and spoke his worlds of love for her directly against her mouth.
In the morning they woke tangled in her crumpled sheets, they showered together, and afterwards took Noah to the park.
She lets an out a soft frustrating groan.
Here she is again. How did she let herself get here?
Breaking-up with Brian had been different, and when he moved the last few items from their apartment she felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders, she released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. They didn't want the same things. That made it an easy choice, a rational decision. Their relationship was built on convenience and rational, never on real emotions. She cared deeply for him, but not the way a woman should care for her lover. She actually slept soundly alone, on a mattress she had only months prior purchased for two.
Now she sleeps like shit.
Maybe it's just the guilt of hurting him she carries. After all, until recently she had been a willing participant in the life they were building together. She didn't lie when she said she wanted those things. She lied when she led him to believe she would be capable of them.
I'm thinking of turning in my shield.
The statement had knocked the bottom out from under her. He was serious. He was turning his late night whispers into her hair into real tangible actions. He wanted more from her. He wanted a life with her. He needed more. More had always scared the shit out of her. She was already struggling to balance being a mother to Noah and a leader to her squad. After Mike was killed her fierce need to protect her team amplified. They were her responsibility - the three of them and Noah. She was in charge of keeping four people alive on a daily basis, and she didn't trust anyone to help relieve the heavy burden of that task she willingly took.
She hasn't seen Lindstrom since just after Mike's death, and she knows it's a mistake.
It's only been a week since you killed a man, Liv.
Back at that abandoned house, she hadn't hesitated in the moment, not for one second. This man, regardless of who he was or used to be, did not register in her mind.
He was a perp holding a woman against her will and a gun to her detective's head.
She pulled the trigger. She didn't regret it then, and she doesn't regret it now.
She knows something within her has shifted. But she can't stop it. The need to care for others comes first over caring for herself. That's not new. That is who she is. She just feels it more profoundly now. The need overshadowed caring for Ed, too.
It's more than a little messed up that she never included him in her life-protecting mission. Maybe because he's saved her life once already and ultimately she'd save him from her.
The rain continues to fall relentlessly outside. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
The light in her office is dimmed, the squad room is empty, minus Fin who blatantly disregarded her order for him to go home. She cranes her neck to the side to peer at him through the crack in her door. He's out there doing paperwork, and she knows he's still here for her benefit.
She doesn't want to keep him from his evening, and she knows he won't pack up until she does.
She walks to her desk, throwing a few files into her bag. Maybe she'll catch up on some paperwork at home. Or, maybe she'll have a glass of bourbon, take a long and overdue shower, after she holds her son closely to her and kisses him goodnight.
"Heading out, Liv?"
"Yeah." She calls from behind the wall of her office.
"Ok. I'll walk you out." She hears him stand and start the process of packing up.
They make it to the elevator without an exchange – one that she doesn't want to have, but one that she feels is coming.
As soon as the door closes, giving her nowhere to retreat he clears his throat next to her.
"Look, Liv I know I should mind my business, but –"
She stops him with a pointed glare in his direction.
She relaxes when he remains silent next to her, not pushing it.
She slides her glasses that are settled on the brim of her nose up to her hairline and rubs a hand across her forehead where her brow is crinkled.
"I'm fine, Fin."
She knows he's fixed on her, challenging her to look at him while she lies.
"I know you're fine, Liv." He pauses, defeated. "You always are."
She closes her eyes and exhales into the small space. She keeps her eyes closed as he continues.
"I hope this wasn't because of anything I said, or because I don't like the guy."
She holds up her hand to silence him. "Fin. It's ok. That is not why I did it."
He seems to mull over her response, taking it in and turning it over in his mind.
The bell dings when they reach the lobby and she has one foot through before the door is half open.
"Then why did you do it?" she hears him call behind her.
She stops and hangs her head in mercy of his simple yet powerful question. Why?
She looks over her shoulder at him as he crosses the threshold of the elevator and stops next to her. She shakes her head downward once before answering.
"I don't know."
She offers him a slight turn of her lips before turning and walking towards the exit of the building, offering a "have a good night" as she extends the gap between them and greets the wet wind whipping through the city streets.
She suspects it's the sadness in her eyes that kept him from following her out.
::::::::::
She settles for a warm bath, even lights some candles. It doesn't do much to improve her mood, but she's trying.
She sips the bourbon in her hand slowly. The ice is mostly melted from the warm dark liquor. She swirls it, her mind focused on the flame of the candle in her eyesight.
Her mind begins to drift to the day before and she sinks deeper, allowing the tip of her ponytail to dip into the water.
She saw him – just briefly and from afar.
He was at the courthouse, for what she doesn't know. He was wearing the dark blue suit she loves. The one that really brings out his eyes. He was talking to someone she didn't recognize and when he turned is head in her directly she saw his features instantly acknowledge their proximity. She attempted to smile at him, but his face turned away as soon as he'd recognized her.
She felt a stab in her gut.
She knew couldn't approach to him. But she wanted to.
She suddenly longed to hear his raspy voice next to her ear, feel his breath against her neck. He was always fiercely protective of keeping their words between them. He would step into her space, bringing his heat and the slight hint of aftershave to her solely, each time with his words. He didn't put it on display. It was only for them. He gave her his full attention and his heart.
He didn't back turn to face her that day in the courthouse. She watched as his broad shoulders moved farther from her, turn the corner and disappear from her line of sight.
Her fingertips lazily graze her stomach submerged in water at the memory. It had been good to see him, even if it was fleeting.
His absence is startling to her. She had been pushing him away for weeks following their trip together, but after she heard the final words leave her lips and watched him walk out of her apartment she felt empty.
The bubbles are evaporating, and her skin is pruning. She feels too tired to will her body from the lukewarm emersion it's currently in. Finally she pulls herself from its depths and quickly wraps her rope tightly around her waist.
The mirror is still foggy. She wipes her hand at the condensation so she can assess her appearance. She really needs to get some sleep. The dark circles aren't as easy to hide anymore. She looks like she feels, and that gives her some sort of dark solace.
This is who I am.
She wipes at the mirror once more and brings her face closer to study the reflection. She has more lines around her eyes now. Around her mouth too. She sees the moments, the years of her life in them – all of the pain, the frustrations, the victims. She sees people she's lost and the ones that took things from her. The new lines around her mouth are definitely from her son. He makes her smile; he makes the other experiences that physically line her face less noticeable.
She drops her head forward.
She doesn't want Ed to become another casualty of her past, of who she is, but doesn't want to be anymore. She wasn't lying when she told him she loved him. She is confused, sure, but not about that.
Maybe she should call him.
Maybe he could find it in his heart to forgive her. Maybe he could pull her close to him so she could smell his aftershave. Maybe he doesn't have to leave. Maybe they could still be in each other's lives.
Maybe.
She strides into her main living space, and grabs her phone out of her jacket she slung over a kitchen stool. She let's out a gasp when she sees a missed call from him. She closes her eyes half leaning onto the stool as she presses 'OK' to play the new voicemail in her mailbox.
"Liv, it's me. Look I could be out of line here, and I'm sure you'll tell me if I am – I just, I can't sleep. And I'm betting – I'm betting that you can't either." There's a long pause before his voice returns. "I don't know what to say, how to do this, but there are things to be said. I – I just want – Jesus, I suck at this." She smiles when the recording catches him awkwardly laughing at himself. "Just – give me a call if you want. If you can."
She instantly pushes on the 'Call Back' button under the notification of his missed call, emboldened by his need to reach out and the bourbon. She holds her breath waiting for the other line to connect.
"Hey."
"Hi."
"Did you get my voicemail?"
"I did."
There's an awkward silence then before he continues carefully.
"Look, I know you might not want to talk, but –"
"No."
"Ok, I'll –"
"No. Ed. No, I want – I want to talk."
She hears him sigh across the line.
"Can you come over?"
She hears him chuckle before his deep voice returns. "I'm downstairs."
::::::::::
He's soaked. And she instantly goes to him, pulling his coat from his shoulders and down his arms.
"Liv, it's ok."
"No, you're soaked. Here let me throw this in the dryer. You still – "
She pauses and casts her gaze downward to his chest.
"You still have some of your things here."
There's sadness in both of their eyes then, and she feels him brush her arm.
"Hey."
He dips his head down attempting to catch her eyes.
"Look Liv, we don't have to do this."
Her gaze slides upwards to meet his. His eyes are electric in their royal hue. She can see the waves turning in them. She forgets her words.
She turns on her heels and tosses his jacket in the dryer before heading to her bedroom, leaving him in a puddle in her living room.
She hurriedly opens the second drawer of her dresser and pulls out a pair of gray sweats and a blue thermal that he reserved for lazy Sunday mornings with her and Noah. He'd wear this when he made Noah pancakes and her coffee.
Her eyes are wet and she stops in the doorway to collect herself. She shakes her head upward willing the tears back into their ducts.
He hasn't moved from where she left him. She extends an arm offering him the dry clothes. He takes them from her and doesn't move, unsure he wants to willingly break from her, and leave her alone with her thoughts.
"You can change in the bedroom."
He nods and offers a sly smile as a courtesy.
The bedroom door clicks shut and she sinks her body onto the armrest of her sofa. She takes a deep breath and rakes a hand down her face and lets it settle over her mouth. She feels kind of numb. She's not sure what she expects to happen her tonight, with him. But, she is determined to be honest. She owes him, them, that much.
He's been in there a few minutes and she is growing very impatient. The anticipation is gnawing at her. Her heart is fluttering, her stomach is in knots.
She is at the door before she registers her movement. She softly wraps on the door. "Ed?" When she's met with silence she continues, "Ed are you decent? I'm coming in." She waits a beat before turning the handle and stepping into the room they had occupied many times together.
In the past they were always much closer in proximity when they share this space.
She finds him sitting on her bed, facing away from the door, from her. His hands are draped at his sides. His wet clothes discarded, hanging on the rim of her hamper. He's fixated on their reflection in front of him. Their eyes make contact through the window and she hears him exhale forcefully.
She takes a step closer.
"Ed, are you ok?"
He doesn't respond. His eyes cast downwards heavy in thought. She's not even sure he's heard her.
"Ed."
She takes a few steps closer to him.
"I'm sorry, Liv."
It comes out as whisper, and his gaze doesn't leave the floor.
"Sorry? For what? Ed you didn't –"
"I shouldn't have pushed. I – I should have know. I know you, and I pushed. I shouldn't have." He's speaking to her slowly, still sitting with his back to her. She wants to kneel in front of him, cover her mouth over his, and tell him just how right he was to push her. She wants to drag him under the covers and prove to him how right he was.
"No, Ed. I –" She words stop when her recognizes that her cheeks are wet.
He continues in her silence.
"I just don't know how to handle this Liv. It's like I'm half a person." He swipes a hand down his face and clears his throat. His knuckles are while from clutching the perimeter of her mattress.
"I know how that feels," she gives.
Her eyes register his in the window's façade. It's dim in the room, lit only from her table lamp, but she still recognizes the flecks in his eyes.
She takes a step closer to him, and allows her body to sink in a spot on the foot of the mattress, the corner closest to him, but still leaving them some space.
"You were right." The admission is soft in its cadence.
"I mean yes, I freaked out, clearly." She takes a breath in slowly through her nose.
"When I realized you were serious about all the things we had talked about and that you wanted them now, I panicked."
His face is turned to her now over his shoulder. Settling for her reflection wasn't going to due.
"I know." The raspiness of his voice sends a shiver through her body.
"It's no secret that I have a hard time dealing with things like these." Her knuckles now match his as she kneads the bedding tightly in her hands.
"But –" Her voice catches in her throat before she continues.
"In the past when someone pushes me and I end it I had always felt relieved. Now…" She lowers her head in the acknowledgement of what she's about to say. "Now I just feel like shit." She lets herself laugh slightly at her admission and brings a hand to wipe her nose.
He's turned to face her fully now, a leg resting on top of the mattress while the other remains solidly connected to the security of the floor beneath.
He knows she has more she wants to say, so he waits patiently as she chews on her bottom lip.
"This is me, Ed," she says to the wall in front of her. "I will always be the person who works too much, who extends herself too much to others. Change scares me, leaving this job scares me. It is who I am."
"Hey," he whispers to her profile. "Liv, I know who you are. I know how dedicated you are to the people in your life, to the squad, to Noah. I know how much you fear change. But –" He pauses briefly to collect his thoughts. She takes a shaky breath to prepare for what he'll say.
But.
"But, I do want those things Liv. I've been honest about that. But, I don't want those things if they don't involve you."
She turns to face him, and her face is pink and blotchy.
"I can't promise you I'll ever be ready for that, Ed. I can't promise that I'll ever be able to be that person you deserve."
"Olivia." He reaches across the mattress and takes her hand on both of his.
"You didn't hear me. I want you. I want you in the chaotic throws of daily life, to be the one to pour you coffee in the morning, and hold you in my arms on Sunday mornings. This isn't about what I deserve, Liv. It's about me wanting to give you what you deserve."
Her eyes are closed but he knows she is finally hearing him.
He pulls her hand to his lips and presses them against her knuckles.
"And I never said that you had to retire. I know what this job means to you. I know you are dedicated and it's one of the countless things I love about you."
She physically feels her guard slipping away.
"What if we do this and you get tired of waiting for me? What if this doesn't work?"
"What if it does?"
A calm silence has taken over the small enclosure. The rain continues to patter against the window audibly. Below cabbies are having a small traffic dispute. Car doors are slamming on the street as people frantically seek shelter from the weather. She hears none of it.
"What if it does?"
She feels her body reaching for him, pulling him closer. He stands and kneels in front of her without disconnecting from her hold on his shirt. Her eyes are downcast, their lids succumbing to the heavy emotion that lies in front of them. It's all around them.
"This is me." She whispers.
She feels his fingers brush the errant strands of brown that shied her eyes from him. He lets his hand rest on the nape of her neck.
"I know Liv. I know, and I love you."
Her head falls back and she inhauls clearing her nose of moisture.
"I just don't want to fuck this up. I don't want to hurt you."
He moves his face closer to hers.
"Look, I'm going to piss you off, and you're going to piss me off. We're human."
He relaxes when he sees her smile. He wipes underneath her eyes.
"We'll deal with it and move on."
Her lips are still turned in a shy grin at their corners, but she still isn't looking at him.
"Do you love me, Liv?" There is so much heaviness in his question she could probably hold it, feel the weight of it in her hands.
Her head lifts and finally they connect.
"Yes."
She feels his grasp tighten on her just like she had the first time she told him. Both of his hands are in her hair now, tangling in the long tresses.
"Then tell me what to do here, Liv. Tell me."
She doesn't know, and that's the truth. She only knows that their late-night confessions in her bedroom have her feeling undone and tired of fighting. They love each other. He loves her in spite of all the things she doesn't love about herself. This man is literally on his knees in front of her. He wants her. She wants him.
"Liv?"
"Kiss me."
Her hands are pulling at the neck of the t-shirt he's wearing, the one she pulled from her dresser for him, because that's where it belongs. His things belong next to hers.
Her mouth is hot and aggressive against his as he turns slightly opening for her. She pushes her tongue to meet his, and they both groan in unison at the missed sensation.
She's bending over him as he nips at her mouth from beneath her. Her hands clutch the back of his head and pulls his mouth tighter to hers. He kisses her back sharply. He stands and guides her back onto the mattress. He's hovering over her, her hands connect with the hem of his shirt. His mouth presses to the corner of her hers before traveling to her cheek where he plants several open-mouth kisses.
"Are you sure this is what you want? His voice is soft in her ear, she can tell effected he is by their contact, how hard he's trying to control himself. "Are you sure I'm what you want, Liv?" Her body breaks out in chills.
She pulls her head back from him. Her eyes are darting back and forth across his face before landing on his. She smiles.
"Yes."
Her gaze falls to his lips and she pulls his mouth to her again.
"Yes," she mumbles onto his lips before she pulling the hem of his shirt upwards and over his head.
::::::::::
The steam is soothing their aching bodies. It late, and she is exhausted. She feels the water fall gently from above and his lips on her shoulder. His arms are wrapped tightly around her waist and she rests hers on top of where his meet at her middle.
His mouth trails from her shoulder up her neck to just below her ear. He plants soft kiss there before trailing back across the base of her neck to the other side, giving it the same treatment.
"God, Liv. I missed you."
She smiles and pulls him tighter to her.
"You know, I was thinking…" She starts before letting out a low moan as his arms loosen around her and begin ascending higher up her torso. He briefly brushes the outside of her breasts before bringing them to her shoulders and smooth them down her back removing the reaming suds that had collected between them.
His hands grasp her hip and she instinctively backs into him, moaning when feels how hard he is.
"Sorry." He mumbles into the skin of her shoulder blade. "You were saying?"
She chuckles and lets out a heated breath.
She pulls his hands from her hips and holds them in her palms, pulling him flesh with her back.
"I said I was thinking…" She pauses when she feels his lip plant another open mouth kiss on the nape of her neck.
"Ed…"
He can't help but tease her when she's like this. He loves to hear the playfulness of her laugh. It warms him from the inside out.
Convinced he recognizes the tone of her voice, and knows to stop messing with her, she continues.
"What if we made Sunday our thing?
"Like for us?"
"Yes, make it our time together regardless of what is going on…work permitting of course."
She feels his smile against her skin.
"What would we do?" He's back to razzing her, he can't help himself. Also, he genuinely wants to know how she pictures them. How in her mind they fit together. How he fits into her life.
She's laughing at his ridiculous question, but obliges him anyway.
"Well, we could wake up and do this."
"Ah, so you're implying that we will also be spending Saturday nights together as well, huh?"
He returns his mouth to her neck then and nips at her flesh. It sends a heat right through her that pools between her legs.
"Work permitting though, right? He teases.
"We could do other things too, ya know?"
"Oh, do tell Benson."
She turns in his embrace and places her hands on his shoulders. Her hair is swept up in a clip, protecting it from the cascade of the shower. A few strands are matted to her forehead from the dense steam that surrounds them. He uses his thumb to brush them away.
She looks shy standing in front of him. Like she's about to tell him something she never expected to say.
"Well, after we're done in here we could make breakfast. Well you could make breakfast, Noah and I'll watch." Her smile pulls to the side coyly.
"That's nothing new, continue."
Her fingers move to his chest and she gently glides them back and fourth across the broad expanse of it.
"Then we could read the paper, while Noah watches Thomas and Friends."
That kid does love that show.
He feels her lips on his chest.
"And then?" His hands are back on her, sliding up her back.
"And then we can change and take Noah to the Transit Train Museum so we can watch his little face light up."
He thought makes him smile.
"You want us to spend Sunday in Brooklyn? Are you nuts?"
She ignores his teasing, she knows he's doing it for her benefit, to take away the heaviness of her words.
"Then we could grab lunch at a café near by, eat outside, on the patio, in the sun."
He kisses the corner of her eye.
"Then maybe, I don't know, come back here, put Noah down for a nap, he'd need one after all that, and we could curl up in the chair, or in bed."
His lips drag down her cheek.
"We could watch one of the documentaries you love, or we could read. I'd make some tea, pour you a bourbon."
He pressed a kiss to her lips.
'Then I'd drink your bourbon and you'd have to pour yourself another one."
"I like it when you steal my bourbon, Liv."
He presses another kiss to her lips. She parts her lips slightly opening to him. She moans against his mouth.
"It's such a turn on. The way you sip on it. They way you taste afterwards."
He hears her moan lightly in-front of him again, and she leans forward slightly anticipating…
He resists the urge to taste her lips, and continues mapping our their would-be Sunday while his mouth is still just inches from hers
"Then maybe I could go down to the corner and pick-up some groceries for the dinner I'll cook us."
She smiles tightly, her eyes are shining.
"I'll come back with a bag of ingredients and you'll just be pulling Noah from the tub."
She stands still, eager for his words to continue.
"There will be bedtime stories, and tucking in, and then another story.
She huffs out a laugh and lets her head fall to his chest.
"Then, I would pull you into the bedroom and remove every article of clothing you are wearing."
He pushes her back slightly from him, and connects his mouth to her breastbone. "I'd put my mouth here," he words are muffled by her skin. He moves to the side of her neck. His hands trail up to her breasts and he gently massages them. "Touch you here" His mouth moves to just beneath her ear. His words are searing her. "Then I'd put my tongue…" he moves a hand down her center, landing on her core. He presses his palm against her there.
She closes her eyes and softly moans in anticipation.
Seeing how effected she is makes his body ache.
She opens her eyes, out of her trance, and her lips are turned in a sloppy smile. Her eyebrow cocks suggestively.
"And then what?"
Oh he'll show her and then what.
His mouth is hot and purposeful against hers. She opens for him, and he doesn't hesitate to push his tongue to meet hers. She feels his hands on her breasts, and she wants out of this shower and him on top of her.
She breaks from him, turns and shuts of the water.
He follows her lead eagerly as they move out of the steam and into the warmth of the bedroom.
They fall onto the bed, and he's instantly on her. His hands roam her body, loving how she fills his hands. He's already ready for her. He slips a hand between them and she spreads more for him, encouraging.
He knows Olivia's ready for him too. He sinks a finger inside of her.
She gasps.
His lips brush across her stomach as he slowly pulls his finger out and slides it back inside again. His lips move up to the underside of her breast, and he nips at the soft skin there before smoothing it with his tongue. He moves higher and swipes his tongue across her nipple before covering it with his lips. He adds another finger.
She's missed his hands, his mouth on her.
She whimpers.
He brings his thumb to her center and slowly rubs against where she's most sensitive. He hears her moan from somewhere above him and then her voice, "Want you."
He pulls back and climbs on top of her, nestling his hip between her thighs.
He enters her as he kisses her.
Her breath is heavy as he thrusts in and out of her slowly and purposefully. She lets out a low pleasure driven moan. She grabs his ass and pulls him deeper inside of her. Her breath is hot against his neck, and he feels electrically shooting through this body, all his limbs.
He can tell she's close. Her neck is flushed and he pulls his mouth there dragging his tongue across the pink flesh.
She moans again, deeper this time, from the back of her throat.
He changes angles slightly so he's driving deeper into her, and he feels the twinges of her release coming as she begins to contract around him.
"Ed!"
He moans her name back in response.
She tips over then, and grasps his shoulders tightly as it rockets through her.
Unable to stop himself he follows her over the edge.
He falls onto her, still inside of her.
Her breath is slowly beginning to even out, and he his eyes are heavy with exhaustion.
Her fingers are gently grazing his back and he moves closer, burying his head in the crux of her neck.
He opens his eyes when he hears her voice beside him.
"Hey." She says again, nudging him then so he'll look at her. He lifts his head and follows her gaze to the small clock on the adjacent nightstand.
12:17 am
"It's Sunday," she states sleepily. Her words are dripping in contentment.
He smiles and rolls to her side, pulling her back to his chest.
They both close their eyes allowing the peacefulness of the moment wash over them. They sleep soundly, their limbs entangled, knowing that tomorrow, work permitting, they'll be granted another day together. One that will likely involve another steamy shower, trains, baths, and dinner; and the knowledge that they have made it through something meaningful, together. They were honest. She is who she is, and he's who he is. The world didn't end in that acknowledgement. It opened.
::::::::::