Part Three
His body reacted just as he'd known it would. But more than the physical desperation for her touch, there was an emotional drive as well. He wanted to see her. He wanted to be near her. He wanted to tell her, as he had nearly done those months ago in the dark car, that she wasn't really alone, that she would never be alone. But he hadn't said it then for the same reason he knew he'd never say it. Because he was married. Because it was wrong. Because it was inappropriate. Because she might know how he felt and that might scare her away.
He wasn't thinking straight as he ducked into the laundry room, pulling on the first items of his that he found. He eased open the squeaky door to the garage and was on his way to see her before he could talk himself out of it. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, no idea how he could explain to his partner what prompted him to appear at her door in the middle of the night, no idea what he would say if she asked.
A few minutes later and he was facing his sleepy, disheveled partner. After a quick study of his bizarre clothing, her only inquiry was if he'd had a fight with Kathy. He wasn't a liar, so he simply shook his head. The late hour and the unexpected visit combined to shut down her normally inquisitive nature. She invited him in and retrieved a blanket and pillow for him to make up the couch.
He said nothing as she padded back to her bedroom. He could only stare at the haphazardly folded blanket and know that it wouldn't do. He had no plans to accost her, to force a discussion on her at that hour, but sleeping in her living room was no better than sleeping in his own bed. It may as well have been a million miles away from her.
And that was precisely what he'd been trying to avoid.
He waited a long time, rationalizing that she'd have time to fall back to sleep and therefore would be more agreeable to anything he suggested. He knew it was a gamble because in all their years of being partners, the only consistent quality Olivia ever exhibited when she was tired was irritability. Still, he waited, listening to the silence of her apartment, feeling the racing of his heart at the thought of what he was going to do.
When he decided enough time had passed, he followed her path to the bedroom, pushing through the door she'd left half open. She was lying on her side, half curled into the fetal position, and facing away from the door. It seemed as much of an invitation as he could have hoped for. He made his way across the room, pulling back the blankets that smelled of her and sliding into the place beside her, the place he firmly believed was meant for him. His movements had no effect on her. He told himself that was because, even in sleep, she recognized and trusted him. He nestled up against her, unable to deny how natural the unfamiliar movement felt. His arm found her waist and his hand splayed across her stomach. He used that leverage to pull her back, pressing her against him.
It was even more unbelievably perfect in reality than the fantasy had been and he sighed happily as he nuzzled her neck. Her hair, the same incredibly soft hair that had started the whole thing, felt like heaven on his face.
He heard her voice, soft and unsure, whispering the nickname that had always seemed intimate coming from her lips. He shushed her, told her to go back to sleep. It was a test, he realized, to see if she really trusted him as completely as he hoped. If she didn't, he knew she wasn't about to take his suggestion. If he was wrong, she would get up, demand an explanation, throw him out, maybe hold his actions against him forever. But if she trusted him, if she felt the same thing he did, she wouldn't spoil the moment, she would wait until morning to question him.
There was a long, terrifying period of stillness while he anticipated just how hard she would hit him.
And then her hand grasped his and washed away all the fear.
finis
