Happily Never After
Summary: "Running away isn't the answer, Stella." When things go south in Mac and Stella's marriage, she runs to New Orleans hoping Mac will realize what he's about to lose, but when she has an accident, plans change. Will they get their happy ever after?
Disclaimer: We own nothing. Nada. Null. Though we wish we did;)
A/N: We wanted to thank you for all the reviews, alerts and faves! And above all for giving this story a chance:) It means a lot to us and makes us work faster;)
We know the first chapter might have been a lot to take in but everything will go smoother from now on for our couple, and as promised there will be a happy ending!
Chapter 2 – …Makes us Stronger
She laid her head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles slowly as she let her mind drift. Flashbacks of their fight echoed through her mind as the day progressed; words she said, responses from him that seared her soul, the way his eyes reflected his broken soul, the way her heart broke watching him leave again.
Tears lined her eyes as she battled the raw emotions coursing through her. Yes, he had come back and obviously still cared but was that going to make up for the distance he had put between them? Was she ready to go back and give him that second chance that she so desperately wanted him to be ready for? Thoughts and concerns raced through her mind as she laid there, just counting the tiles over and over and over again.
She eyed the phone a few hours later and picked it up, staring at the numbers before dialing familiar digits. Her heartbeat raced in her ears as she heard the rings sound one after another before going to his voicemail. She muttered a Grecian curse and waited until the beep sounded, "Mac? We need to talk."
She swallowed and sniffled lightly as she reflected back on their argument. This was so atypical for them, fighting and going to jugular veins on the other. They never had fought like that before, and she was positive she never wanted to fight with him like that ever again.
She licked her lips and sighed. She wasn't always quick to acknowledge her wrongs, especially not about something like this, but it was Mac. She swallowed the final bit of her pride and took a deep breath, "I was wrong. I should've told him about you, and us."
The silence was deafening and she tried to ignore the insecurity as she continued, "Mac, a lot has changed in the last few months, but I, I shouldn't have yelled at you. It just brought up so many feelings I thought were gone and...I just… Mac, I need…"
Her fingers tangled into the cord as she allowed herself to show her vulnerability to him in a soft voice, "Mac, I need you. Please."
She set the phone onto the cradle and let the feelings she'd been keeping inside her, finally come out. As the tears she'd been holding back slid down her face and stained her pillowcase, she couldn't help but hope that he hadn't already left and taken any chance of reconciliation with him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mac left the hospital in a blind stupor, bumping into people and not really knowing or caring where he was going. He turned off his phone. He didn't want to go back to his hotel and he didn't have anywhere else to go so he just wandered aimlessly around the city, avoiding the raucous, tourist-infested areas of Bourbon Street and the French Quarter, and choosing the Central Business District just on the other side of Canal Street, which was much more peaceful and less crowded at this time of day. He wandered through Lafayette, Baronne and many other smaller streets and alleys, the exotic sounding names swimming in his mind.
It was hot and humid, even though it was already September. Born and raised in Chicago and living in NY for the last twenty years plus, Mac wasn't used to such temperatures at this time of the year. He would have to buy some clothes if he was planning on staying longer, he added another to-do item to his mental list. He had gotten on the plane here straight from the lab, taking nothing but himself with, but now that he thought about it, his clothes wouldn't have passed the test in this climate anyway.
He took his coat off and was pondering on doing the same with his suit jacket when the alley he was walking opened into a far bigger one, adorned by lush green trees and beautiful, historic mansions on both sides as far as the eye could reach. He stood motionless for a while, marveling at the beauty of the world he had stumbled into. Suddenly a vintage, red streetcar whooshed by, cheerfully ringing its bell, and reinforcing the fairy-tale illusion. Mac began to understand why Stella had chosen this particular city. It was suffused with a certain exotic, untamed energy and held a mysterious magic like nothing he had ever seen before.
Mac felt his features crease into a small smile as he saw the clumsy vehicle off with his gaze. Suddenly his dad swam before his eyes. There were no streetcars in Chicago when he grew up, the last line having been cancelled in 1958, but his father used to be a machinist with the CTA and would sometimes take Mac to see the antique cars the CTA still kept in its hangars. Mac still remembered the feeling of excitement and joy when his dad sat him on the machinist's seat and allowed him to 'drive' the car. Sometimes his mother would accompany them and they would go for ice-creams or to the carousel afterwards. A happy, loving family. Suddenly Mac felt a new pang of pain when he realized how much he would have loved to have Stella with him right now to share those memories and experience this moment with.
He shook his head, chasing the ghosts away. Feeling very tired and wrung out, he crashed at the first bar he found. It had a homely-sounding name Pete's Pub and offered a large choice of beverages, drinks and appetizers. Scenes from Mardi Gras adorned the walls and there was a steady throng of people going in and out, which meant he could easily blend in. He sat at the bar and looked at the colourful display of alcohol bottles from all over the world. He didn't normally drink, only on very special occasions. This certainly qualified as one.
Having downed two whiskeys at a pace he hadn't since the Marines, he analyzed his encounter with Stella word for word, moment for moment, looking for any signs that she might ever give him a second chance and accept him back into her life in whatever form she chose.
He knew they had both spewed off words they didn't really mean. It seemed like all the hurt and anger that had accumulated over the last six months finally found an opening and it flowed out of him in a ferocious wave when he saw her for the first time in such a long time. He regretted what he had said the moment he said it, knowing his words hurt her. Her words cut to the core, as well. The person who knows you best is the one who can hurt you the worst.
…there's no happy ever after
…I gave you everything
…I need it that way, Mac.
Whoever said words could hurt like bullets was a moron. Bullets seemed a gentle caress in comparison. What he felt was more like a bunch of grenades had exploded into his face.
They had argued before, many times. She was the emotional one, he held everything inside. In a way, they were complete opposites and they had very different views on life so there were bound to be conflicts between them. But they also respected each other enough to always be able to find solutions for everything they ever did together.
Except the one thing that mattered. Their marriage.
Mac shook his head incredulously. How had it come to all this? They had never fought like this before. In all their arguments there was always mutual respect and a willingness to compromise, to work it all out because they cared about each other.
It hurt so much when she left that all he could do so as not to go insane with pain, was to build as much distance as he could and shell himself deeper than he had ever before. But it still hurt. It wasn't the same as with Claire. He wasn't the same man he had been then. Stella had irreversibly changed him and when he tried to go back to his old ways, he found he couldn't. The feelings wouldn't go away and his heart wouldn't be silenced. Which infuriated him even more. He was like a bear with a thorn in its paw – he fumed and thrashed and suffered in loneliness, unable to do anything about the pain himself but too proud and hurt to ask for help.
"Detective Taylor?" A familiar voice spoke his name from behind and he turned to see who it was.
Nate Labarre was standing a few feet away with an uncertain expression on his face.
"Would it be fine if I joined you?" he asked sheepishly.
Mac looked at him in thought for a moment. Sighing deeply and regretting his decision the moment he made it, he nodded.
Nate gave him a relieved smile and seated himself on the barstool next to Mac.
"First night in New Orleans and you already find one of our finest bars," he remarked in a warily friendly tone, still unsure if Mac was going to hit him or leave him be. "I see your legendary detective skills extend far beyond finding murderers."
Mac wasn't in the mood for small talk. "Did you want anything, detective Labarre?"
"Actually, it's a very fortunate coincidence we happen to like the same type of bars," he smiled. "I was hoping we could talk," he added seriously.
Mac furrowed his eyebrows but allowed him to continue. He hadn't exactly made up his mind about Nathan Labarre yet and he puzzled him. Mac rarely got puzzled, especially when it came to reading people. This time, however, he was personally involved, and it changed things. He sincerely wanted to dislike him and looked for any slightest fault or indication of foul play on Nate's part, but found none. Even the argument about him being close with Stella, although jarring, wasn't his fault.
"I know we didn't exactly start off on the right foot back at the hospital, detective Taylor," Nate went on uneasily. "-but I wondered if I could buy you a beer and apologize again. It's not Tun Tavern but still…"
"Actually, I was just leaving," Mac made to stand up, deciding he didn't feel like company right now, especially from the man who seemed to have replaced him at Stella's side. He didn't want to be rude or start a fight so he decided it was best if he left. Then the second part of Nate's utterance hit him. He hadn't heard that name in quite some time. "Tun Tavern?" he repeated referring to the legendary brewery house and birth place of the Marine Corps every Marine knew. "Are you a Marine?"
Nate shook his head. "Me? I'm nowhere near that tough," he said, respect and admiration shining through his smile. "My dad was a sergeant in 1st Battalion 9th in Vietnam. He never stops talking about it," Nate smiled with sentiment. "Once a Marine, always a Marine," he cited the famous Corps motto. "I guess it is true."
"Your father is a Walking Dead?" Mac asked with incredulity referring to the unit's nickname, famous throughout the whole Corps. They'd earned after sustaining the longest combat in the Corps' history – the 1/9 had been engaged for over 47 months and barely one in ten made it out. Mac had the honour of serving with a couple of them and they were the toughest of the tough, and had earned nothing but his highest respect.
Nate chuckled. "Haven't heard that nickname in a long time," he said. "It's a name my dad uses with pride. But how did you…" he began and stopped, realizing something. "You're a Marine yourself, aren't you?"
"1st Battalion 8th," Mac said curtly sitting himself back down.
"The Beirut Battalion," Nate whistled through his teeth with appreciation. "That explains a lot," he nodded with understanding. He had been wondering if it was just Mac Taylor or if all NY detectives came with such a tough exterior and emanated with that undercurrent of strength ready to be unleashed that he had associated with only the strongest of soldiers. Now he had his answer. This man was both and Nate was sure he one of his kind. "Were you there in 1983 when…"
"We were slaughtered in our own base?" Mac cut him off. "Yes, I was there."
"I'm really sorry, sir," Nate seemed to be really scared he had stepped on Mac's foot again and Mac had to smile despite himself. In spite of all the reservations he had against him, Nate was trying really hard. Plus, a Marine's blood ran in the boy. Maybe he deserved a chance.
"Call me Mac," he said. "No need to be sorry. They died proudly protecting their country and we made sure they were avenged."
Nate nodded his head. They remained in silence for a while.
"So how about that beer? To honour them?" Nate suggested and Mac couldn't say no.
After their beverages were delivered and they drank to the Marines, Nate looked at Mac curiously. He decided it wasn't necessarily wise to enquire further about his past, so he decided to go for something neutral, not realizing he was stepping onto a minefield.
"So…how long are you staying in NOLA?"
"A couple more days," he said uneasily. "Until I make sure Stella's fine."
"Stella…I don't think you've got much to worry about here," he chuckled. "She's one tough woman."
"You have no idea," Mac gave him a half smile, though it was more to his memories than to the young man next to him.
Nate nodded and treated that as an encouragement to go on.
"Though I have to say, she's awfully silent about New York and what she did before she came here…"
"So you wanted some gossip from me?" Mac asked, irked.
"No, it's not that." He shook his head vigorously. "She's my boss and my friend. I'd simply like to know more about her. Why she is the way she is."
Mac furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Nate looked at him uneasily. "She keeps to herself, goes out with us only when we break her arm into going…and whenever something personal surfaces, she clams up and sometimes, for no reason at all, she gets all glassy eyed and melancholic."
Mac felt his hands clench into angry fists, realizing in full Stella had indeed only made a brave face for his sake. She wasn't fine at all.
"I see you've been watching her pretty close," he said in a neutral tone, keeping his emotions in check, and trying to get Nate to reveal how close exactly he was with Stella and what his intentions were.
"Everyone on the team will tell you the same things," Nate shrugged and Mac was satisfied with his answer and tone. It sounded like they were friends and he cared about her but nothing more.
"We all worry about her," Nate continued, completely unaware of the constant evaluation he was under. "She's a great CSI, a good boss and a devoted friend…we hate to see her like this." He looked at his interlocutor making sure he could continue. He noticed how pale Mac had become. Nate was starting to wonder if he wasn't ill. It was obvious by the way his clothes hung loosely on his frame that Mac Taylor had lost quite some weight in a relatively short time and he looked like a man with a heavy burden on his shoulders. But he nodded so Nate went on. "Our last case before the explosion was a murder at a dog show. We got free tickets from the organizers and we all went after solving the case. We were having a good time, eating and laughing but when we started making wagers on which dog would win, Stella suddenly got up and left without a word."
Mac stared at him, though he didn't really see him. When the silence was getting strained, he cleared his throat. "We had a similar case back in NY," he explained curtly.
"It didn't end well?"
"To the contrary," Mac smiled despite his current mood, remembering their hot-dog pseudo-date so many years ago. "All went well. Any case Stella ever worked on ended in success. She's a brilliant scientist and she would work so passionately and selflessly, give everything she had until she found the connection. She's the finest CSI I've ever worked with," he added softly, speaking more to himself than to the man next to him, the realization of what he had lost hitting him again with full force.
Nate grinned, totally unaware of Mac's sudden mood change. "In the first few weeks we thought it was only for show. You know, new boss trying to impress the superiors and intimidate us and all that…but then we found out she's simply that passionate about her job. She has this deep compassion and a fierce desire to not only catch the perps but help the vics and their families, the people whose life had been shattered by crime. We all respect her for that and look up to her."
Mac gave him a half-smile, a sense of pride and satisfaction overwhelming him.
"You seem close," Nate ventured. "I mean, you're still her contact number even though you're living thousands of miles away…"
"She must have forgotten to change it," Mac snapped not liking where this was going.
"…and you've come here without a word in record time after I called…"
Mac looked at Nate with mixed feelings. The young CSI really had no idea he was Stella's husband or what had transpired between them in New York. Mac bitterly congratulated Stella on managing to keep such a good cover. He toyed with the idea of telling Nate the true nature of his relationship with Stella but then he remembered her taut features, tired frame and the dark abyss behind her eyes. I NEED it that way, Mac. She had suffered enough and if there was one thing he could do to show her he meant well and wanted to be her friend again, was to respect her wishes.
"We're…close friends," he managed finally, not looking the younger man in the eye.
Nate didn't seem to notice the internal struggle Mac was fighting and continued to ask about the cases they had worked on together in New York. The Taxi Killer and the Compass Killer were loud cases in the whole of USA and he wanted to know all about it. For once, Mac was glad of his company. It took his mind off of painful realizations. They soon got into details and soon Mac lost count of time.
When they said their goodbyes two hours later, Mac actually felt a little better. Comfort could come from the strangest places and in the strangest forms. Nate was a very good listener, he was bright and asked all the right questions in the right moments. He understood why Stella chose him as her second.
He hailed a cab, and as he settled himself inside, feeling a bit lighter, he took his phone from his pocket and turned it back on. He had five new messages: the cleaners, Danny, the DA's office, Flack…he scrolled through all of them making a list of things he had to take care of tomorrow morning when his fingers froze over the screen. He had scrolled to the last message.
As he listened to it, his face softened. He put down the phone and looked at it for a while in thought.
"I'd like to make a stop on the way," he told the driver.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She woke the next morning as a nurse took her vitals. "Ah, you're awake. Someone's been waiting for you."
Stella's heart jumped slightly, hope radiating in her chest that it would be Mac. She glanced at the door with bright wide green eyes and tried not to let the disappointment show as Nate stepped into the room, "Hey."
She forced a smile onto her lips and nodded, "Hi!"
Her eyes glanced over his appearance and she sighed, "Long night?"
He nodded and chuckled, "Yeah. I met someone at a bar."
She grinned, "I don't want details."
"Yeah. You do." He nodded and pulled a chair up to the bed, "Stella, I met Mac at the bar."
She smiled a little wider, "He's still here?"
"Yeah… he's here for a couple more days."
Her heart skipped a beat knowing that he was still here. He had stayed, even after what she had said, and in that moment she realized that maybe it wasn't so ridiculous to hope that her voicemail to him could lead to a fresh start, even if it was only as friends.
"What did he say?"
"We actually talked about you, a lot. It was nice to learn a little more about you."
She felt her cheeks redden and dropped her head, "Yeah, he… he knows it all."
"I gathered that, what with the two of you being such close friends and all."
Her eyes darted up to his in a flash, "That's what he told you? Close friends?"
His eyes narrowed a bit and he nodded, "Yeah…"
She looked away and felt a fraction of her heart break away as she felt the pain of hearing Mac's brush off radiate through her. She felt Nate's hand close over hers and pulled her hand away, "Nate, I…"
He doesn't know about you; about any of it.
Her own words echoed in her mind as she looked at Nate. Mac had done what she asked. He had played the game she wanted him to play. She bit back her smile and looked at Nate, "I didn't think he'd phrase it like that."
She shrugged and folded her hands in her lap as a nurse walked in with a large bouquet of roses in a vase. She handed Stella the card with a smile and nodded to Nate before leaving. Stella's eyes followed her and she glanced at Nate, "Did you…"
He shook his head and nodded to the card, "Need me to print it?"
She smirked and smacked his hand as he reached for it. Her fingers nimbly opened the small white envelope and pulled the card free, her eyes reading the writing and the smile on her lips finally reaching her eyes…
"Yours, Mac."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
…. Earlier that same day ….
He slept whole five hours of undisturbed sleep, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. Stella's few words had shaken him to the core and given him a new hope he hadn't allowed himself to have before.
He woke up reinvigorated and fresh. He quickly shaved, dressed and took care of all his NY responsibilities, Danny eager to help out in any way he could and sheepishly offering 'get better' wishes for Stella from the team. No one at the NY Lab knew what exactly happened between the two of them or why Stella had left. Mac preferred it this way.
It was around seven when he got to the hospital. Stella was still asleep and he didn't want to wake her up but he couldn't help himself from taking a peek into her room. The nurse looked surprised but nodded her head with a smile.
The flowers hadn't arrived yet but he hoped they would before she woke up. He stood leaning on the door frame and as he looked at her peaceful expression, a memory that was engraved deep in his heart came to the surface…
It was late at night and he felt tiredness weigh him down like a leaden anvil someone had placed on his shoulders and refused to remove since the afternoon. Although in all honesty, there was something else entirely that lay heavy on his heart. Or rather in his pocket. Since he bought it two weeks ago, he had already developed a habit of sub-consciously reaching into his suit pocket to check that it was still there. The reassuring feel of velvet under his fingers somehow made it more true. He, Mac Taylor, had indeed made this decision. He was ready to take that step. Now all he needed to do was inform Stella of that decision. And that was the problem. There never seemed to be a proper moment. It was impossible at work, and at home, even though they had been living together for the last ten months, they were either too tired or too busy…with other things. A restaurant didn't seem right, too. It had to be really special and every time he tried in the last two weeks, something just wasn't right.
Some would say he was chickening out or looking for an excuse but that wasn't the case. There was never a doubt in his heart or mind as to the decision he had made. He hadn't felt so sure about anything in a long time, in fact. But it had to be somehow extraordinary. Just like she was.
"Hey." There was a knock on his glass door and he looked up to see Stella, fully dressed to leave, hovering on the threshold with uncertainty in her eyes. "Am I interrupting?"
He smiled at her. No matter how tired or bad he felt, she always brought a smile to his face and caused his heart to skip a beat. They had been a couple two years now and best friends for ten before that and she still made him feel like a hormonal teenager every time he set his eyes on her. "Come in. I was just finishing," he said waving her in.
"Good." She smiled and strolled in with renewed confidence. "Because Adam warned me not to tease the beast in his den right now."
"Adam should put more effort into doing his job and less into showing off in front of you," he said aiming at a stern tone but failing. He could never stay angry at their computer-savvy tech for long.
"Do I sense jealousy?" Stella teasingly raised an eyebrow at him.
His eyes never leaving hers, he threw his pen onto his finished report review, stood up and slowly circled his desk. He came to stand just before her.
"Me jealous? Of you?" he asked feigning indignation. Then he took her face into his hands and gently tilted her head upwards to meet her chartreuse gaze that never failed to take his breath away. "Always," he breathed and brought her lips to his.
At one time it would have been unthinkable for him to show his emotions so freely and at his workplace but that was in another life, at another time. The time before Stella. Many would be surprised but in the matters of the heart Mac Taylor had actually begun to listen to his heart. He had re-learned that art thanks to her and it hadn't let him down ever since.
When they parted, she gave him another of her megawatt smiles. "Well, Mr. Jealous, you'd better be finished with those papers now or I'm walking out of here with another man," she playfully tugged at the collar of his shirt.
He shook his head and turned off the light on his desk. He quickly put his cloak on and followed her into the corridor, deciding with resignation that tomorrow he would make a reservation at the most expensive restaurant he could find and just do this, without any further ado or looking for 'the right moment'. He would create the right moment himself.
He was done waiting.
When they got outside, Stella talked him into walking home, insisting they could both use some fresh air.
"We need to work on your definition of 'fresh air'," Mac said wryly referring to the smoggy oxygen-like substance that usually passed off as 'air' in New York.
Still, he followed her with a smile. He could never say no to her. They wandered into Central Park and just as they were about half-way, it began to rain. Neither of them had an umbrella and Mac was about to remark on their perfect timing when Stella let go of his hand and went out into the rain. She let the cool drops splash down on her hair, skin, clothes and welcomed it, her face pointed to the sky. She laughed and motioned for him to join her.
It was then, watching Stella in the rain, the mellifluous sound of her laughter filling his ears and heart with warmth, that he knew. That was the moment.
He stepped into the rain and walked towards her. She turned her face towards him and watched him make his way to her. She was an ephemeral vision to him then…water sliding down her olive skin in meandering rivulets…her eyes shining with an enticing, mysterious energy and tenderness…that radiant smile reserved only for him.
He approached her and looked her in the eye. He saw there a future and happiness beyond his wildest dreams. He reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee, the rain proceeding to soak them both further but neither taking notice. He heard Stella let out a small gasp. Realization dawned in her eyes and she dropped to her knees with him. Drops of rain mixed with happy tears on her cheeks and when she said 'yes', he was certainly the happiest man alive...
Suddenly he felt a light tap on his shoulder and the nurse who let him in smiled at him. "Detective Taylor? You're listed as the primary contact for Detective Bonasera here, so I think you should know she's being released today," she said. "We were hoping you'd be able to come get her around four."
Mac nodded. "I'll be here," he said curtly and left, allowing Stella to get her sleep.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Greek obscenities sounded softly through her room as she got dressed and slowly moved her aching muscles that were sprained. She finally finished dressing and glanced in the mirror as she stood in her hospital room bathroom. She sighed and let her eyes study the angry marks on her face from the explosion before turning the light off and opening the door.
Her green eyes immediately settled on the man standing at the window in her room with his back facing her. She smiled as she recognized the silhouette and moved quietly over to stand behind him, her body a breath away from touching his, "They called you?"
Her hands ached to reach up and touch him, caress his back and pull herself to him, but it had been what felt like an eternity since that had been a common interaction for them, so she held back. Her eyes followed each curve of his back and arms, tracing his form with what felt like new eyes. He hadn't changed much physically, though he had clearly lost weight. She finally let go of some of her restraint and put a hand on his shoulder, "I wanted it to be you here."
She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before giving in and letting her body hug his from behind as her head found his shoulder and she held him tenderly but tightly, not wanting to let go and find out this was yet another of the dreams she'd been having since the separation.
Mac stood motionlessly, his words failing him. The severity of how much he had missed her touch, her voice, her closeness, all that was her, hit him with the force of a sledge hammer. He had imagined her arms around him so many times that he was still afraid this was all just another figment of his cruel imagination. When he made a move to touch her in his dreams, she would always pull back and disappear with a look full of reproach and pain. The only way to be sure this really was her was…
He turned in her embrace, and he noticed she started moving away as if startled by his sudden actions. He let his arms hang along his sides, disappointment starting to claw at his chest. But then he saw something change in her eyes, and surprise was replaced by a tenderness he never thought he would have the chance to see again. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and didn't hesitate any longer, catching her in his embrace.
They clung to each other as if they were clinging for dear life. She felt so good in his arms, like they had been designed especially to hold her. He buried his face in her soft locks, feeling with a twinge of guilt how fragile she seemed in his grasp.
"I need you, too," he breathed when he was sure his voice wouldn't let him down. "Like oxygen," he added moving away to an arm's length to look into her face.
He saw her eyes had filmed over, and he leaned in, her lips so close…only in the last moment he realized that that certainly wasn't what she wished for from him, and he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, quickly moving away.
"So, you're ready to go?" he asked uneasily.
She looked up at him, a slight veil of disappointment in her eyes before she touched his cheek and ran her thumb along his cheekbone, lost in thoughts for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was rough with emotions, "Yeah."
Her hand slid from his face as she turned to the bed and gathered her big blue hospital bag with her belongings and the vase with the flowers from him. She turned back to him with a small shy smile and he took the bag and the vase from her. She smiled wider. Always the gentleman. Then she moved over close to him, sliding her hand into his and giving it a delicate squeeze as she walked with him from the room. Her green eyes caught his as they waited for a cab and she leaned over, resting her head on his cheek and speaking softly, "Come home with me…"
tbc.
A/N: We'd love to know what you think:) Leave us a review, knowing your opinion really makes our day and helps us write faster! Babygurl&Stardust