The Best Part of Me

Chapter 7

Perry entered the bedroom after he had waited in the shadows of the hallway for Paul, Jr, to go back down the small flight of stairs.

Pushing open the door, he disrobed, found his pajamas, brushed his teeth and headed for his side of the bed.

He could barely make out Della's features in the dim lighting. Perry reached out to gently brush her hair back from her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, baby. How are you feeling?"

"To be honest, Perry, a little drunk or high or whatever it's called these days."

She gave him a mischievous grin. "Not too shabby, but I don't recommend the headache to go with it."

"Is there anything you need or want, water, another blanket?" Perry asked.

"No, I'm fine." Della cleared her throat. "Were you by chance standing in the hallway eavesdropping while Paul was in here?"

"Not on purpose. To tell you the truth, I didn't pay any attention to where he said he was going and when I walked up to the door, I could tell I was about interrupt something that I shouldn't." Perry trailed his fingers along her upper arm gently. "That boy loves you, Della."

"Perry, he's not a boy. He's a man, but you still treat him like a boy. You don't always afford him the respect that you do Ken." There was no judgment in her words, just fact.

The attorney was quiet for a few minutes. So was Della. If Perry was a tad irritated with her, he was going to have to deal with it. The effect of the drugs had made her freer to approach certain topics than she might normally be.

But when Perry answered her, it wasn't with anger, just a twinge of frustration. "Del, I don't know how to treat him sometimes. When I look at him, I still see that little boy that wanted all your attention and let me know, most assuredly, that I was in the way."

He laughed under his breath at the memory. "And, his 'hobbies' sometimes get in the way of what I consider—what he should consider—his livelihood."

Della reached gently to touch Perry's grizzled cheek. "If I remember correctly, that didn't bother you when Big Paul did it."

"That's different. Paul knew how important it was to maintain his agency's reputation, and he could separate play from work."

The woman by his side laughed low, "Oh, really, Counselor, well, would you care to explain the existence of Little Paul?"

Perry held up his right hand in surrender, his girth vibrating with quiet laughter.

"You win. I have to give you that one. Maybe I am too hard on him. Maybe I'm too hard on him because he was—and still is—after my girl."

The older man moved closer to the love of his life and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Maybe it is nothing but jealousy. A silly old man's jealousy at having anyone else have any of your attention but me. After all, 'Little Paul' has been the only serious competition that I've ever had."

"I rest my case," Della murmured softly, the drugs and stress of the past few days catching up with her. "Sometimes, I wish….I just like to feel he's ours, Perry. Do you? Do you think that may be why you're so hard on him?" Her voice was filled with a longing that was rarely shown.

Her lover couldn't think of any response to that. Perry had his regrets. Regrets he never voiced because it hurt too much to acknowledge that there was no do-over for their past, for children they may have had. A little Della...

Perry moved her close to his side.

Having Della hurt and seeing her in the car with blood on the window and realizing he no longer had the strength to get her out was a blow to his manhood. Perry was realizing his limitations, physically, and he didn't like it. At all.

Maybe if they had-stop! Perry cut himself off before he could start down the 'might have been' road. Wasted time. He had to deal with what was now, just like everyone did. Just as James Joyce said, "The present is the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past." And if you throw that away, the present, you have nothing.

Della's soft breath and the gentle beating of her heart against his side was most assuredly something. The most important something in his life.

As for Della, resting against her mountain of a love, she felt protected and loved and not worried at all, a combination of a lifetime of trust and good pain medication.

Perry felt her relax, and he pulled her against him, as if to shield her from the world. He let his sharp mind, which had not been damaged by age, but only honed to a finer edge, sort through their past, decade by decade, case by case. Who would do this? Risking injury or death to both of them?

The two of them had encountered their share of evil and apathy in their career together. One thing was definite: someone had a grudge, but sorting out 'who' was going to be difficult unless he or she left something to help them identify the perpetrator. Uncovering the truth and murderers did not make Perry popular. He had had to turn over a lot of rocks, allowing a lot of snakes to crawl out, before finding the truth in his work. The kinds of people who lived under rocks did not like the light that Perry, and Della by extension, had shone on them, but who hated them enough to want to possibly kill them?

Closing his eyes, Perry decided to allow his unconscious mind to work on it for a while. Right now, he had someone to whom he'd rather turn his undivided attention.

Breathing in the scent that was uniquely Della, her essence and Chanel, the master of the courtroom lay back and allowed his chin to gently rest against her curly hair while she slumbered safely, enveloped in his strong arms.