Sorry this has been awhile, but life caught up with me. Be warned, this chapter is profound and increases tension! Please review, they really do encourage me to continue writing! :)
I roll over. Partly aware that I'm awake, and yet still dreaming. I hang in that precious, easy to disturb state where dream and reality melt together, and when the alarm sounds, and I open my eyes, I know that I was dreaming of something utterly, inconceivably beautiful. Impossible.
It fades from my memory in an instant, and I'm left longing desperately for sleep, and the impossible possibility of it drifting back to me.
I lie there for an hour, slipping from the waking world back into sleep, and then back again, repeatedly. Eventually, I ease myself up, and sit, back to headboard and stare at the wall.
The air is ice. The window's open, I don't remember opening it, but I must have done.
Staring at the wall, the wall my bedroom shares with the guest bedroom, I remember Nick. I remember last night, though hazy, and cringe.
My God, what the hell must he think of me?
I sit there a little long, mull it over several times in my head, as if that will somehow help.
Fuck that.
If he doesn't think much of me now is there anything I can really do to sway his opinion?
I pull on my comfy trousers for scrubbing around the house in and a thick jumper. I pause as my eyes land on my discarded bra. My breasts feel heavier, lower just looking at it. I feel vulnerable in that instant, knowing Nick is in the next room, and that I will probably have to face him like this. Almost exposed. Highly aware of my nakedness underneath these clothes.
It's too cold to bother taking any layers off.
I close the window, and then fold my arms protectively over my chest before wandering out onto the landing.
The door's open when I get there. The curtains are too, and flood the room with weak, white, fog-ridden light. I lean against the doorframe and drink in the scene, unsurprised. I know what he's thinking, as he sits in the corner, swaying gently in the rocking chair.
Nick doesn't speak, and I let the silence lie for a moment. It's comfortable; I know by the expression on his face that he doesn't judge me. He looks puzzled.
He still refuses to look at me though, but continues to stare at the mobile hanging over the partially put together crib.
"Lee was always jumping ahead. Impatient. Excited, I guess." Nick's gaze lingered on me as I spoke, "The day I told him, he stared clearing this place out so he could do it up. I found it amusing and endearing of him, really... he was always like that. Sweet. Thoughtful."
I pause, trying to hold back my emotions, "He'd always wanted to be a father and after two years of trying, we were going to start our own family, finally... I earned more than him – he was a poet, well, more of an aspiring one – so I was working through most of my early pregnancy and... I was only a couple of months pregnant. The workload increased... it became stressful. Eventually it became too much, and I had a stress induced miscarriage."
I feel my eyes burn. I know that he can see me on the verge crying, "I Lee was distraught, demanded we try again. Demanded I take a step back from my career. Focus on us. Obviously, I was too stupid to listen to him, and... he left."
I take in a shuddering breath through my constricted throat, and meet his unwavering eyes, "I chose my career over my fiancé and my unborn child. What does that say about me?"
Silence.
"I honestly... I... Claudia, I have nothing... there is nothing to say."
I smile, despite my tears, and gaze at the half-finished nursery, "No... there isn't, is there?"
Nick stands up, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. I realise that's all he's wearing. His t-shirt and jacket are half-draped over the end of the bed. I cross my arms over my chest once again.
"I don't care." His eyes are bloodshot and tears line them, "I waited for years for Helen to change her mind about having kids. I spent eight years knowing I would never have them after she disappeared. Then this... bizarre lifestyle plonked itself down into my lap, and along with it you, and I never, not once, thought about anything beyond you. Just, the existence of you."
His words hang in the air, weighted, and I begin to cry.
"I love you." He murmurs, "If you want a family, I'll give you a family. You want a career? I'll never demand anything of you that would limit that. I'll give you anything, do anything, within my power-"
"Nick..." We stand inches apart now, and I can almost feel his wanton desperation, "You know this could never work."
He takes my face in hands, brushes my cheeks with his rough thumbs, and trails the tip of his nose on the bridge of mine, "I know. I just don't care anymore. What if I lost you? Why wait? Why bother waiting? I know the agony losing you would put me through."
"C'mon Nick, what about Helen?"
He pulls away, a frown creasing his brow, "Why should I give a damn about her?"
I push his hands away from my face, angered, "Jesus Christ Nick, despite her saving me and other... various acts of kindness she's demonstrated, what if it's all because of an ulterior motive? What if she's a real piece of work under all that... that... what if we do decide to try this... whatever it is between us, out and she flips? What if she's still in love with you-"
"I highly doubt that-"
"What if she becomes crazed? What if she puts a bullet in my head? Or worse, yours?"
He becomes rigid at my last words, breathing deep. He pauses, "You're right."
Walking away, he runs a hand over his face, and then picks up his shirt and jacket, "I'll be on my way, then."
I nod, even though I don't want him to go. I want to pull him back into my bedroom; I want to cry my love out loud as we fuck each other repeatedly. Again and again until my legs tremble with effort. My folded arms tighten.
I move from the doorway to let him pass, but he stops right in front of me, pained. His fingers linger at my jaw line.
"Just... one thing."
"Okay."
"Your feelings, are they the same?"
"More than you can imagine."
He walks past.
"I love you."
Standing at the top of the stairs, he turns, a small smile on his lips, "About time."
I stand there, the sound of the front door closing echoing in my head.
Please, please review,
GPR
