To my girlfriend on the anniversary of your birth. I love you.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
- Fire And Ice, Robert Frost
Those Who Favor Fire
She's lost. She's right there, but damn it, he's losing her. Everything's too heavy, he can't breathe properly.
A bonfire on the beach. The flames are beautiful. So completely, breathtakingly beautiful. They stretch into the air, golden, crackling wisps against the inky night. The heat is overwhelming. He feels stupid, hovering a safe distance from the scorching heat but wrapped in a blanket.
But then, the comfort? He needs it, unashamedly. Absolutely cannot survive this, and her, and losing her. Not that a blanket will make her stay, make her talk to him, not that it holds any power over her actions. Nevertheless, he wraps it just a little tighter around his broad frame.
Alexis and his mother have long gone inside to bed. They only drove up today and both declared they were exhausted after he was satisfied they'd had enough marshmallows. Now it's just him and her. Sitting on the sand, on his little stretch of private beach at his Hamptons house, watching the flames.
No one has spoken since the other two women in his life went inside. He wants to choke out words like I love you and I want you and kiss me but they're suddenly foreign. He doesn't think they'll communicate effectively what he needs to say.
He can see her profile in his peripheral vision and God; she's more beautiful every time he catches sight of her. She doesn't look sad. But much to his chagrin, she doesn't look happy either. The word for this, the straight line of her mouth, the hint of a crease between her brows, is on the tip of his tongue. Pensive. He doesn't like that word. It's dangerous, especially when it's Kate. It's too easy, even now, for her to doubt.
She buries her toes in the sand, scrunching them against it. Her fingers are curled against her palms, the cuffs of her sweater sleeves trapped between them. Her fingers are so long and slender and now he knows what those nails feel like scratching down his spine even her hands are overwhelming.
She reaches up to scratch at her nose, wraps her hand back around her bent knees, holding them to her chest, without ever tearing her gaze from the fire. She shivers a little and he can't help himself, I love you I love you I love you I love you a stream of it cutting him through, tearing, escaping and he's choking on it he needs it out.
"Are you cold?" She finally turns to look at him, twin fires reflected in her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, mysteriously green and brown at the same time and framed with a thick expanse of long, charcoal lashes.
She smiles softly, moonlight hugging the planes of her face, casting her in delicious shades of ebony and ivory. She is even more beautiful in black and white. "A little, I guess. I can deal."
He moves, settles in the sand right next to her. Their thighs are touching and it is nothing to reach out and hold her hand, still around her knees, still her home territory, but he's there and right now that's all he needs.
He doesn't speak for a while, waits for the skin of his palms to stop tingling, thrumming with the feel of her hand in his. "I don't want you to have to deal. I want you to be happy."
She turns to him again, eyes wide. "I am happy." Her mouth stays open a while, he waits for her to say more, give him more, but she's empty.
Everything feels too big. Out here, with the stars watching, every move he makes is monumental. He brushes her thigh with his knuckles, her shudder radiates through him. She isn't cold now.
"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" She doesn't look at him, still engrossed by the flames before them. "The way it can be so good when it's under control, can keep you warm. But how easily it can get out of control, destroy everything."
Oh. Oh, Kate.
He coughs, stumbling over the words. "Do you think that's going to happen to us, Kate? Do you think we're going to destroy everything?"
She blinks hard, eyes glistening with moisture. He can see in the line of her throat, the set of her jaw, the effort it costs her to keep her tears at bay.
"Not you. Just me." She bites at her bottom lip, worrying the raw patch. On a particularly bad case, the inside of her lip is dense and calloused. Temporary scar tissue. He knows this, because he's tried to soothe it with his tongue before now.
He squeezes her hand, feels her bones slide under his fingers, and then he lets go, draws his hand back into his own lap, his legs crossed. He can't focus while he's touching her, keeps getting distracted by how soft her skin is.
"No. Kate, no. You're not going to break this." His voice is heavy with emotion, thick and so close to breaking he would be ashamed if he wasn't so blinded by fear. "What we have. God, Kate, it's so good. I've never been happier."
She dips her head, chin brushing the apex of her knees, a perfect tear sliding down her nose. His breath sticks in his throat. There are so many words he needs to give her; he's drowning in them, a swirling vortex in his head.
"Listen to me. You're not going to break this. We're doing it together." He has to show her, somehow, please. He has to fix this. Cannot lose her.
Damn it, he's a selfish bastard and just for once please someone have mercy. He never asked for fame or money. Would give it all in a heartbeat just please let him just have Kate.
He finds her hand again, stands up and pulls her up too. Their fingers slide together, interwoven. This way, he can keep her close, allow the heat of her body to soothe him and pray it doesn't pull him under.
They walk together down to the shoreline, him leading her. They're both barefoot. She stops to roll her jeans up her ankles and he stops too, captivated. Her ankles are slender and strong and beautiful and God, he loves this woman.
The water laps at them, it's colder than perhaps it ought to be but he doesn't care. He's in deeper than her as they walk along the line where the waves hit the sand, painted silver in the moonlight.
When they reach the point where they can't see any houses anymore, he stops. She stumbles against him and shoots him a glare when the icy water splashes on the hem of her pants. He drops her hand to wrap his arm low around her waist, fingers pressing against her hipbone. Her head falls to his shoulder and he presses a kiss to her hair.
He looks out at the stars above the water, breath held. He can't get past the rapt wonder that fills him, has to take a minute to let it sink in. "It makes you feel insignificant, doesn't it?"
She hums noncommittally and he kisses her temple for that, for being her. "Makes you feel like you don't really matter, not in the grand scheme of things."
She tenses a little. He hopes she can hold on, keep listening. She always does, always waits for him to make his point.
"But the way I see it, I don't need to matter in the grand scheme of things Kate, the stars don't need to know my name. As long as I matter to someone. And you? You make me feel like I'm worth something, like I count for something."
She's silent. He holds his breath again, hopes he didn't go too far, hopes she understands.
That he needs her. That the thought of losing her, letting her go is not only inconceivable but a notion that it physically pains him to entertain.
She turns her face into him, breathes quietly against his clavicle. He doesn't realise she's crying until she brings her hand up to wipe at her eyes, and then he's rocking her gently, hushing against the top of her head. Just sounds, trying to soothe her.
"I'm sorry, love. Please don't cry." She laughs then, and his heart soars in exultation, euphoric and foolish and so very in love with her.
"I'm just happy, that's all."
He squeezes her, her hip shifting to dig into his side. "That's all we need. Just be happy, and the rest can follow."
She smiles; he feels her teeth against his neck, his jaw, scratching at his stubble. She nips at him, catching his flesh in her teeth and soothing him with her tongue. He pushes her away just a little, just enough that he can see her face.
He cups her jaw with his palm, fingertips against her cheekbone. She turns her face into his hand, kisses his palm. "Why now? Why the sudden doubt?"
She closes her eyes, lids heavy. Takes a deep, shuddering breath and looks out across the water. "I don't know. I just. I don't want to lose you."
He kisses her then, tries to pour his love for her into it, tries to just show her, because sometimes there aren't words. He pulls away, levels his forehead against hers. "You're not losing me. I'm here."
She nods, her forehead sliding against his. He kisses the end of her nose, the beauty mark under her eye. He needs to recapture how youthful she was yesterday, the day before. When they first got here.
He shifts his arms, one palm spanning the small of her back and the other between her shoulder blades. Her hands snake around his waist inside his jacket, he can feel her nimble fingers at the tender flesh of his sides.
He starts to sway gently, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. There's no music but he thinks the waves and the soft sounds of the night will suffice.
He relishes the gentle slide of her bones beneath his palms, the way she moves with him, the achingly soft curve of her breasts against his chest.
"I could do this forever." She whispers it, though there's no one around to witness this moment, no one they have to hide from anymore.
He kisses her hair again, can't imagine ever getting tired of that. "Me too." There's a lot more he could say, but he thinks the way he tightens his hold on her is enough.
Eventually, when the moment is so perfect he can't imagine it can last, he removes his arms from around her waist. It's cleaner - less painful - to break something on purpose than it is to watch it shatter. He takes her hand because damn it, he needs tangible evidence that she's still with him. "I, uh, I have something in the garage."
She furrows her brows at him, a soft smile dancing at the corners of her lips. He kisses the place between her eyebrows, because she's adorable and he can. Tugs on her hand to get her to follow him.
"Come on," and then they're running along the beach. Peals of her delicious laughter ring out behind them as sand sprays from her heels. She pulls her hand free from his to sprint ahead of him and he pushes harder against the soft surface, his calves burning with his need to reach her.
He catches up to her, wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back against him. Loses his footing and they fall, tumbling onto the sand. She's still laughing as she curls up against his side, nose at his chest, her ankle hooked over his. He's flat on his back, laid bare to the night sky.
Her laughter dies down eventually and they lie in silence together, him watching the stars and pretending he doesn't feel her gaze dissecting him. He rolls his head to the side, nudges at her nose with his.
She allows him to kiss her languidly, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on his chest for a while and then she pulls away, a quiet gasp as cold air rushes to fill the space between them. She smirks as he tries to follow her mouth with his, craving her warmth. "What's in the garage?"
It's a splintering ache to sit up, leave the heat of her against his side, but he does. Circles round the side of the house and ducks in the front door to snag his car keys from the table in the hall. He opens his car and rummages in the glove box for the remote for the garage door.
He stands up, shuts the car door and turns to find Kate watching him with her arms folded, one foot tapping out a metronome in time with his heartbeat. He wraps his arms around her from behind again, gently this time. Not capturing her, cherishing. He brushes soft kisses against the skin of her scapula, exposed where his sweatshirt falls down around her shoulders.
He hands her the remote, lets her open the door and then they're walking inside the garage, him crowding her back. He feels like a teenager, desperate to touch every inch of her, tease her.
He steps around her to hunt through the piles of beach toys, loungers and sun umbrellas that decorate the floor of his garage. Finally, he finds what he's looking for. He tugs the package free, the plastic wrapping crinkling.
He straightens, schooling his face into a beaming grin before pivoting around to face Kate. Her eyes shoot straight to his hands and she grins widely, the smile where he can see all her teeth.
"Sky lanterns?" She laughs at him, but it's affectionate.
"Yeah. Have you ever done them before? Alexis and I did last summer and they were so much fun and-" He cuts himself off, not sure she can handle the rest of what he wants to say right now. About how their beauty, delicate and fragile but strong enough to fly, to battle the elements, reminded him so much of her.
About how he made his daughter wish on the golden orbs as they ascended into the night. About how he thinks maybe they, he and Kate, could use a wish.
She raises an eyebrow at him but doesn't bother to question him. It's an annoying quirk they're both used to, him more so than her but nevertheless, she knows better than to ask. He's better now, at sharing. Can't help the torrent of words that pours from him when the early morning light bathes her as she lies in his bed. When she tasted the pasta sauce they were making for dinner right off the spoon, tongue darting out to catch some of the thick, red sauce and then drawing in. Her eyelids had fluttered and she'd hummed in delight at the taste. And his heart had soared.
He shrugs, takes her hand again and they walk back around his house to the beach. The bonfire has died down considerably, but there are still enough flames for him to light the little fuel cell.
He's talking, as he hunts for a stick, as she cradles the package to her chest and waits him out. "They're actually illegal in some places because of the fire hazard, but this one will be over the ocean so it'll be fine."
"Isn't it dangerous for the wildlife in the ocean though?" He falters for a moment, struck once again by how loving she is, how her heart aches for even the smallest creature.
"Nope, it's biodegradable. I made sure to get the ones that are a hundred percent wire free, Alexis freaked out at the thought of killing a narwhal."
Her laugh fills him. He stands up, having found a stick he can use as a makeshift match. His back pops as he straightens and he grimaces. He's getting old. The thought is sobering, a little terrifying. He's done wasting time. No more. Kate, no more.
He holds the stick in the bonfire, waiting for it to catch light. He's so engrossed in the flames and yes, more than a little distracted by how old he suddenly feels that when he feels her delicate hands snake around his waist, under his shirt, he startles. She laughs at him, cheek pressed to his back.
"You look sad. You okay?"
He turns in her arms, hands falling to her hips. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." She smiles softly. He reaches out to brush some leftover sand from her temple, thumb caressing her skin for far longer than necessary. "How could I not be? Look at you."
She dips her head, cheeks flushing. Her hair falls forward, casting her cheekbones into stark relief. She looks too thin this way; he pushes her hair back behind her ear, trailing his fingertips over the shell of it.
"So beautiful," he breathes. She rests her forehead against his sternum, bare toes wiggling in the sand.
He holds her there for a moment, one hand at her lower back, the other cradling her head. Plays with her hair, twining strands of it through his fingertips.
"Are we gonna do the lantern?"
He squeezes her and then lets her go, already awash with longing. Carnal need burns low in his stomach, but far stronger is his desire to simply be with her. To just breathe, feel her breathing next to him.
He dropped the stick he found in the fire so he could cradle her hips and he doesn't feel even a flicker of regret. It's nothing to find another stick. Other sticks, no other Kate, not ever.
He lights it, pulls it out of the bonfire and stands with it. "Do you want to light it or hold it?"
She shrugs in his peripheral vision. "Uh, I'll light it. Your arms are bigger, you can hold it easier."
He hands her the stick, watches as she cups the flame with her perfect hand, sheltering it. There isn't much wind tonight, only a gentle breeze really. He wonders if it's a natural reflex of hers, to protect the defenceless, and suddenly he's struck with an image of her cradling a tiny head covered in dark, downy hair to her chest, blue eyes blinking up at them both. He swallows past the solid lump in his throat.
God, she's going to be the most incredible mother.
He picks up the package from the floor and opens the plastic wrapping, slides the lantern out easily. He pulls on the top of it and the whole thing pops out, suddenly three dimensional. He holds the rim of it, lifts it high enough that Kate can get at the underneath. She holds the burning stick to the fuel cell until it catches light and then drops the stick to the floor, where the sand puts it out.
He holds the lantern, watching as she kicks sand onto the bonfire to extinguish it. When the fire's out, she joins him, taking hold of the opposite side of the rim. They have to hold it until it feels buoyant. When he did this with Alexis, they'd just known when to let it go, and he's hoping the same will happen again.
"I wonder how it works." He muses, trying to see her over the top of the lantern.
She pokes her head around the side of it to look at him and he grins. "The air inside is heated, which lowers the density of it, so it can float."
He closes his eyes, making a show of swallowing hard. "God, you're so hot when you're smarter than me." She snorts at him as she slides her hand out so just her fingertips are supporting the lantern. He copies her and she bounces her hand, testing the buoyancy of the light.
"Okay, I think it's ready," she says, and they both let go. For one heart-stopping moment, it looks like it's going to crash at their feet, but Kate supports it, encourages it upwards with her fingertips and then it's floating.
She cranes her head back to watch it rise over the ocean, her lips parted in rapture. Her eyes are wide, he can see twin reflections of the lantern and the water and the star-dotted sky in the pools of chocolate and moss.
He's trying to watch the lantern, really he is. It's beautiful, as it floats away from them, shrinking gradually. But Kate? God, Kate is breathtaking. It's a fight to tear his eyes from her, perfect bone structure, gentle smile, eyes wide and innocent and entranced.
When the light disappears she turns back to him, beaming, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes and he knows. He cradles her face in his palms, kisses her softly and then drops his hands to hold both of hers. Watches her face for a moment, swallows and blinks.
"Marry me."
She goes completely still, every muscle, every nerve, every chemical reaction in her body frozen.
"What?"
She chokes it out, disbelief coating her words.
"Marry me, Katie."
He could do the big speech. Lord knows he has enough words to give her, can paint the picture until her knees give. But they don't need it now. He's going to spend the rest of their lives giving her the words, has already given her four books worth.
She's a simple kind of woman, not at all impressed by the flashier side of his lifestyle. She makes him simpler, too. Helps him to understand that the actions are the important part.
She nods, the tears already in her eyes now spilling down her cheeks, and then she falls against him. His arms come up to cradle her, swaying with her gently. He kisses wherever he can reach, not paying attention to where his lips are landing.
"I love you," he breathes to her. He's said it a few times since the argument, since the night he thought he'd truly lost her, but he tries to save it. He uses it when he's so overwhelmed with it that all the other phrases he falls to first, you're incredible, you're beautiful, I can't believe you're mine, don't cut it anymore. It means more to them both that way. She's said it less than he has. She says it every day. Smiles, coffee, soft caresses as she walks past him because she just can't help herself.
She pulls back to meet his eyes, smile uncontrollable, splitting her face wide open so he sees it all. "I love you too."
She falls back to his chest, needing his warmth now the fire's out. She shivers in his arms, he feels her try to stifle a yawn and it suddenly hits him how late it is, that his mother and daughter went to bed almost two hours ago.
He kisses her temple, her jaw, works his way to her mouth and loses himself there for a time, forgetting that there are waves that want to lap at his ankles, stars that want him to bask in their glory, sand that's working itself into every crevice it can find.
"Let's go to bed. It's late." She smiles, nodding.
"Mmkay," a soft sigh. He's seen her like this a few times, when she becomes so tired she can't even form a sentence. It's adorable. When she's like this, she gives him her most heartfelt confessions.
He leads her onto the deck and pushes open the sliding door. Dropping her hand when they hit the freezing linoleum of the kitchen floor, he dances his way across it. Shaking his butt and bending his knees, he allows his joy to radiate out of him. He stops at the sound of her delighted laughter, turns to see his fiancée, and wow, what a beautiful phrase that is, clinging to the counter in a desperate attempt to stay standing as her laughter wracks her slender frame.
"What," she inhales hard, "are you doing."
He grins, utterly elated. "I love to wiggle." He continues his dancing, moving over the floor to her until he can kiss her gently. He pulls back and her eyes sparkle.
"What have I done?" she muses. He scoops her into his arms and she buries her face against him to muffle her shriek, ever mindful of the presence of Alexis and his mother.
He carries her all the way to their bedroom and then he sets her on her feet. Growing serious, he unzips her sweater, his sweater actually, and helps her out of it, sliding her sweatpants down her hips until they pool at her feet.
She stands in just an NYPD shirt. He learned quite early on that she likes to sleep with her legs unobstructed by pants, found it fascinating. Now, it's just Kate. He's quick to shirk his own clothes, it's warm here and so he'll sleep in just his boxer shorts.
He kisses her again as she passes him for the bathroom, busies himself pulling back the sheets and closing the blinds until she's back. Then it's his turn, and he doesn't remember ever getting ready for sleep this fast. He's burning with the need to be back in her arms.
She's lying face down on the bed, sprawled out in a star shape like a horizontal jumping jack. He climbs onto the bed on all fours, nips along her spine, teeth and tongue and lips and she tastes amazing.
"Mm," he hums, "a virgin edge." She rolls over to look at him.
"What are you talking about?" She laughs as she says it so he knows he's not in trouble for his crazy talk.
He grins at her. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm just excited. You're going to be my wife." She beams then, too. He can see it in her eyes, the happiness. He feels about ready to join the lantern. He could float. He could. He is.
They rearrange themselves so they're lying in a more conventional position, her head pillowed on his chest, his arm around her.
She smells so good. He forgets sometimes, and then it hits him, that every facet of this woman is not perfect, but perfect for him.
She's rubbing at the empty space on her left hand, where her fourth finger meets her knuckle. He catches that hand in his own, kisses the spot.
"I didn't get a ring. You can choose one when we get back to the city." She shrugs, the bones of her shoulder nudging the flesh beneath his ribs.
They lie there in silence. In this house, he hears in layers. The top layer, the ocean, the waves lapping at the shore, breaking onto the sand. Then something ticking away in the kitchen, his girls breathing upstairs, the sounds of a house at night. And then the layer closest to his heart, Kate breathing next to him, her heartbeats, the soft sigh on every fourth breath as sleep claims her.
He waits for that sigh, holding onto a lungful of air to make sure he hears it. Receives words instead.
"Castle," she whispers, soft tendrils of sleep already wrapped around her voice. "Can we have sky lanterns at the wedding?"
He kisses the top of her head where it rests on his chest, breathes her in. "Whatever you want, love." She hums contentedly. He doesn't know how long it is before he finishes his thought. "If we have lanterns, the wedding will have to be here."
He feels her soft smile against the bare flesh above his heart.
"Perfect."
Yes, she is.