The shirt fell over her easily like a lot of his shirts have so many times before. It's worn and oversized, and she gladly welcomes the warmth of it. The familiarity of it has always been a comfort. It's him, however small of a piece it is.
His shirt.
The bed is empty and cold, and not theirs, but he still manages to linger. He's there, in the fabric of his shirt. There's something so powerful about smell. It triggers memory. Not always welcome, but somehow manages to resurface through the cloudiness of one's mind. It's quick and it's vivid, and it makes her question her decisions of leaving him out of this.
Kate buries her nose in his shirt and takes a deep breath of him in, and she's back in his kitchen wearing his red T-shirt . She's cooking breakfast as he walks in, his hair all rustled from sleep. He looked utterly adorable. His bulky frame leans against the counter and reaches out a hand to steal some of the eggs. She swats his nimble fingers away from the food with a playful smile and ignores the fire that has been slowly burning in her chest as the innocent attraction to him may be turning into something more.
A car horn brings her back to reality as she opens her eyes not to their bedroom, but to the hotel room she's been staying at. She stares blankly at the entryway. It's dark, but the city lights highlight the archway in a mind-numbing way. She brings her knees a little closer to her chest, grits her teeth as the rough sheets rub against her skin. She wills her mind to relax so this day can just end.
She's walking quietly into their bedroom, her bare feet sticking slightly to the hardwood floor as she tries her best to balance the two coffees she's made. She's nervous about what this all means, but so damn happy that it's happening. It's a whirlwind of different emotions that flood her system but just as quickly disappear as soon as she locks eyes with him. He's half covered in the sheets of the bed, his body slowly relaxing itself as he finds her in the entryway of the room. There are remnants of something that troubled him, but that is swiftly overshadowed by that smile: the smile that feels like it is only ever meant for her. It's infectious, and as she moves close to his side of the bed she welcomes the feelings she's been pushing away for so long. She hums as his hand pushes away his shirt to meet the skin of her shoulder, slightly parts her lips as she feels his breath brush them; and then she lets herself fall a little bit in more love with him.
A tear escapes which she quickly wipes away with the collar of his shirt. This is almost over she tells herself. He's safe and that's all that matters. Everything is going to be alright in the end. It has to be. They've been through worse.
She starts to drift, enveloped in her only solace. Her thumb mindlessly plays with the wedding band on her finger as she tries to push some of her worries out with an exhale. She catches a whiff of him again, and then he's there. His body aligned with her back. His hand finding its way under her shirt so it can rest against the warmth of her abdomen. Her memory pulls him closer. The scruff of his cheek against her neck, his lips softly brushing her chin, the 'I love you' he whispers in her ear.
She wakes up in the morning alone, just like she has done every morning over the past few weeks. But this time his presence is just a little bit stronger and she can't help but smile at how he always finds a way back in. The man is relentless. It's one of the many reasons she fell in love with him.
As always, thank you for reading. - Steph