Was chivalry dead after all?
Sometimes, Chris made himself wonder. The noble act would have been to give up his hotel bed, possibly even the entire room, so Stephanie could sleep comfortably. Rich had a room of his own in the same hotel, and Chris could have just as easily crashed there. But he chose not to. Instead, he squeezed into bed beside Stephanie, perhaps not so much out of discourtesy as desperation. Angry as she made him, he struggled with a timeless desire to be close to her.
He'd missed her so much while they were apart, so when she lay down for the night — swimming in a pair of his shorts and a hockey jersey from his duffel bag — Chris climbed in beside her. He had leaned back against the headboard at first, crossing his arms, both of which rose and fell with his chest. Stephanie rested on her side, facing him, propping her head on top of a bent right arm as her eyes fell closed. She panted lightly from all the work it had taken to roll herself onto her side, and for the first time, Chris was seeing up close just how taxing pregnancy had been on her body.
His right hand jutted out, like it were operating through a mind of its own, and he tried reeling it back in, but there was no control. He watched his fingers uncurl and stretch out to touch their target, and he saw his wrist nearing, closing in, until his palm settled upon her head. Her eyes reopened and fell into a squint as she watched him, and Chris rolled onto his side to face her. At least he'd been in control of that much. He stroked her hair, their gazes locking as his fingertips explored her scalp.
In a not-so-eloquent way, he asked, "Why are you here? Why did you take the time to fly here and see me?"
Stephanie covered her mouth, the warmth of a yawn hitting the back of her hand. When finished, she wiped the resulting residue from her eyes, slipping a hand over her belly. "It seemed like the right thing to do."
"To me, all it really seems like is slow torture."
Her eyebrows raised, lips quirking at their corners. "So, you don't want me here?"
"You know that's not how I meant it."
"I don't think I do," she admitted. "I don't really know anything about you anymore, Chris."
"And whose fault is that?" he said, not meaning to sound quite so accusatory. But he did, and he cringed inwardly when her eyes flashed. Of all people, Stephanie wasn't a person he wanted to piss off, and especially not when he was planning on sleeping next to her within the next hour. He'd have to sleep with one eye wide open.
"Okay, I know I messed up and tried to keep you from even knowing about your own daughter, and I can honestly say it was the worst thing I've ever done in my whole life. It was horrible, you didn't deserve it, and I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, but I'm not the only guilty party," Stephanie said. She stretched her legs out straight, which had previously been bent at the knees. "I'm not excusing what I did, because I had no right, but you left me, Chris. We were basically broken up before we actually said the words."
"I know I was a shit boyfriend to you, in the end. I've never denied that, but I didn't mean for things to turn out like that."
"I didn't mean for my pregnancy to turn out this way, either," Stephanie admitted. Her eyes clouded over, and she laughed softly. Chris guessed that was an effort by her to keep from doing the only other thing left to do, which was to cry. She was too tough for tears. "If someone would have come to me three years ago and said we'd eventually break up and that I'd try to hide a pregnancy from you, I never would have believed them. I would have said there was no way that would happen and that we would be a family. But that's the thing about life; it rarely works out as you plan."
"I'm sorry I couldn't keep us together."
"And I'm sorry I was so hellbent on keeping us apart for even longer," she apologized. Her hand left her belly, plopping onto the bed, and she walked her fingers up to a point only about an inch from his hand. His fingers fell into an involuntary twitching spell, because he knew what was coming. Physical contact with Stephanie used to be a given, and now it was nothing more than a foreign sensation. "Can I...hold your hand?" she asked tentatively.
Chris nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat, only for it to pop right back up again, like a buoy in a lake. Her hand covered his, her body heat so inviting, just as he'd remembered. Memories brought about old feelings, and just as her fingers intertwined with his, the words popped out before he could stop them, his mouth always getting the jump on his brain. "I still love you."
A flicker danced in her eyes, but he couldn't tell what from. Was she happy, sad, or annoyed that he'd declared his love so simply? Chris couldn't tell for sure, but having her hand in his only made him hungry for more of her. He wanted to have all of her in the palm of his hand and, perhaps with time, he would. Propping her head with the arm it had been previously resting upon, her elbow dug into the mattress, making a slight dent in the sheet.
"I still love you, too, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart."
Then, there went his mouth again, outrunning his mind. "Thanks." Awkward.
Her lips curled into a smile. Apparently, Stephanie was loving his lack of clarity where it concerned knowing when to shut the hell up. His verbal miscues never failed to make her laugh. "Yeah," she chuckled under her breath, "you're welcome."
Their lives had diverged, one person having remained on the highway of life while the other took the nearest exit to a new life. They had formed separate goals and dreams, different secrets and fears, and there was nothing to talk about any longer. Except, there was everything to talk about. Chris would have loved to start chiseling away at the iceberg that had formed between them, holding one back from the other, but all he could do was stare at their joined hands, enamored with a woman he simultaneously held a grudge against. It didn't get any more complex than that.
"Why didn't you tell me about the baby?" Chris wondered. His tone wasn't accusatory, simply curious. "You could have come to me at any time, and I would have done everything in my power to get you to the doctor and take you to your follow-up appointments. I would have loved to have been there the first time you heard her heartbeat, or even when you found out she was a girl. It would have been..." he trailed off, "amazing."
"I didn't think you were ready for the responsibility."
"What gives you the right to decide that?"
"Nothing does," she murmured, closing into herself like a turtle seeking safety inside its shell. Her legs curled back up, and when a patch of hair fell over her face, partially hiding her from Chris, she left it there. Maybe she didn't want to be seen anymore. "I didn't have the right not to tell you, and I know that now. I knew it back then, too, but I didn't want you anywhere near either of us. I thought you would only hurt me and the baby even more than you already had."
"But I came to you," Chris argued, still staring at their linked hands. "I came to your office and said I needed to know, and you lied straight to my face and told me it was none of my business that you were pregnant, because the baby wasn't mine. You said that multiple times, and you were lying. What the hell did I ever do that you thought that would be a good way to handle this? What's so horrible about me that you don't think my kid should even know me?"
"There's nothing bad about you. It's not that," she said, voice coated with unreleased tears. Chris hoped they never came, because he didn't want to see her cry. She didn't have a right, because she wasn't the one who was hurt to her core. "I never intended for things to happen this way."
"You knew I always wanted kids."
"So did I."
"That has nothing to do with this," he shot back, cutting his eyes at her. "You got what you wanted, but I was the one left in the dark. I'll always admire you for carrying my baby, because it takes crazy strength to walk around for nine months with a whole human being inside of you, but you're not more of a parent than me just because our daughter's in your stomach. Penelope's just as much mine as she is yours."
"I know."
"Obviously not, dude," he scoffed, bending his free arm behind his head and using it as a headrest. His heart thudded inside his chest until it was almost all he could hear in both ears, but that was fine. He'd just have to speak over the noise. "I want to hate you. I probably should hate you for this, but then I take one look at you, and it all comes rushing back. I can't break free from this spell you have on me, and it scares me, because we're probably not going to be together again, but, shit, man, who can measure up to you?"
"I'm not that special," she muttered.
"You know what, though? You are," Chris corrected. "You taught me to love in a way that I don't think I ever would have known if you hadn't come into my life, and nothing can ever change that. You showed me what it meant to truly care about somebody and to put them ahead of myself, even if I didn't always do that for you. I didn't mess up because of you. I messed up because I was acting like an idiot, chasing after things I thought I wanted when, really, everything I ever needed was right in front of me. I was stupid to break your heart, and instead of running off with everybody under the sun and doing juvenile crap, I should have been spending quality time with you."
"That would have been nice. I mean, I'm not the funnest person ever, but I would have liked more time with you."
"Oh God, you're so much fun, though. You are," Chris complimented. "You have no idea."
Stephanie's smile dissolved when she began running her lips together. Letting go of Chris's hand only for a little while, she reached for her purse and unzipped it, pulling out a tube of cherry Chapstick and coating both lips. After tossing it back into her purse, she grabbed the pillow above her head and rolled back onto her side, recapturing his hand with more confidence this time. "Hey, remember how I told you I hated amusement park rides and that I refused to ever go on them? You dared me to get on that rollercoaster a few years back, and I was so pissed at you for it."
"It's not like I made you do it," Chris smirked, shrugging when her eyes narrowed. "I didn't. You were the one who said you never turned down a dare and that you weren't going to start. You practically ran to get on that ride." He lifted his arm, leaning in close as he pretended to inspect his skin. "In fact, I still have grooves from where your fingernails dug into my arm during that ride. I think they're permanent."
"Quit it," she ordered, smacking his thigh. "You deserved to put up with my fingernails digging into your skin for tricking me into riding that death trap in the first place."
Somehow, the combined laughter made them acutely aware they were joking with each other like it were a fad coming back into style, and all conversation ceased. His smile was first to fade, then hers, but those determined hands of theirs held on for dear life. She squeezed until the blood supply was cut off, which helped to break the silence, since Chris had to protest the ironclad grip. "Can you ease up a bit?"
"Huh?" she asked.
"My hand. You're squeezing super tight."
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry," came her sheepish reply.
Stephanie released his hand, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd even been holding. When she began picking at her fingernails, all lost and solemn, Chris took that as his cue to scoot in closer and give her a chance. Hell, everyone was entitled to an opportunity to right their wrongs, including him. Chris gripped her chin in his right hand, running his thumb softly over her slight cleft. Stephanie avoided his eyes.
"I didn't mean you had to let go," he clarified. She rubbed her lips together, evenly distributing her lip balm, and his first instinct was to kiss her, but Stephanie was no longer his to kiss. Sighing, he settled for a talk. "This is hard, I know. I never thanked you for showing up here, so thanks for caring enough to fly down and grab me from the bar. If you hadn't done that, I would've gotten messed up for sure."
"Why?" she questioned, finally meeting his eyes. Her exhales came out in huffs, and her cheeks gained some color. "What is it that's so great about being drunk that you have to go out and do it every single night? Why is that more important than checking on me or your daughter?"
"Don't even start, because I call you almost every night, and you barely ever take my calls. That's not fair to hold against me, so don't even go there tonight," he replied, sniffing a little and rubbing the tip of his nose. "You asked about the drinking, though, and you deserve a straight answer. Why do I like alcohol so much? It makes me forget."
"Forget...me?" she asked, practically gaping in horror.
"No, not you. I would never want to forget you," Chris replied. "It's just stresses of life. I've been on the road since my early 20's, and I've seen so much and been through a lot of crap, so, yes, it's nice to forget sometimes."
"Is it because you miss your mom?" Stephanie asked, eyes wide and innocent. That was enough to send his hand from her chin up to her cheek, where he cupped her clammy skin, swishing his thumb over the wide open space. "Because if it is, I guess I can understand that."
"It's from a lot of stuff and, besides, these problems started long before Mom passed away."
"Yeah, I guess they did."
Stephanie yawned long and loudly, and that was his signal to end their discussion. There was more to talk about than they could get to in a full day, let alone a sad portion of the evening. A frown befell her as she wriggled beneath the covers, fussing with her loaned out pair of shorts and struggling to make them fit more comfortably, and Chris had seen enough. Without any further prompting, he rolled off the bed and returned to his suitcase, rummaging through his clothing until he found a pair of checkered pajama bottoms, in typical Jericho style. They had an elastic band, which made them likely to be a better fit for Stephanie.
Pairing them with a plain, black v-neck shirt, Chris collected the ensemble and brought it to bed, crawling onto the mattress and tapping Stephanie's shoulder. Her eyes had fluttered closed, so she jumped when his finger made contact, viewing him through a pair of widened eyes. Relief pooled in her face like a giant rain puddle when she noticed the small, unexpected gift he'd brought over. "You looked like you wanted out of those big shorts, plus, the jersey can sometimes be itchy, so here's something else for the night. It might not be the pinnacle of high fashion, but it's good enough to sleep in."
"Oh, thanks," she said, forcing a smile, which ended up looking more like a cringe.
"Not a problem."
A few bones cracked as she raised her arms above her head, giving them a good stretch. She rotated her ankles a few times in both directions and craned her neck, pushing herself up and grasping the upper hem of the shorts. She started to push them down but hesitated, trying her best to casually turn her head and see if Chris was watching. He had been, but he didn't want to make her self-conscious, so he snapped his head the opposite way, migrating back to his suitcase and pretending to study the cover of a Steel Panther CD he'd happened to bring along for the trip.
He listened to the soothing swish of the clothing as the switch was made, and smiled simply from picturing her wearing something of his. She had done it multiple times while they were dating, and if he closed his eyes and shut off all volatile thoughts of the present, he could pretend, even for a little while, that she was his again. It could seem real, although it was anything but. It wasn't until she shuffled back into bed, pulling the covers over herself, that Chris spun around, smirking when he noticed the shirt fit a tad large near her neckline, but was expanded to its limits around her giant belly.
"If that material snaps, you owe me a new shirt," Chris japed. That seemed to loosen her up, and she stopped squirming around, actually managing to show some teeth when she smiled one of her first genuine smiles of the night.
"You got yourself a deal. I think it just might blow," she giggled, resting both hands on her stomach. Seeing him standing there must have reminded her how uneasy their situation was, and her smile faded as she looked down at the bed upon which she rested in. "I don't want to take the bed from you. This is your hotel room, and you should sleep here. If you want, I can even go down and get my own room."
"Don't be silly, Stephanie. You know I wouldn't send you down there to get a separate room," he responded. "You're going to sleep here, and if you're not comfortable sharing a bed with me, I'll be the one to get another room. You're not going anywhere."
"Will you stay, please?" she requested, even going so far as to peel back the sheets on what had become his side of the bed. "I don't want to sleep alone. You should stay with me."
Without a single thought to the contrary, Chris took her up on the offer, scooting right off to bed and climbing in beside her. He turned the TV on low volume and began flipping through the channels, looking for anything to occupy his mind until he was drowsy enough to fall asleep. When Stephanie turned out the lamp on her side, he did the same to his, darkness seeping into every crack and crevice around them. The only illumination came from the TV, a constant stream of light that allowed him to spy on Stephanie quite frequently, peeking at her through his periphery.
Being that she was facing him, she took notice of his glances, not as overcome by sleep as Chris may have assumed. "Do I have something on my face, or what?" Her voice cut through the semi-silence like a knife. "You didn't even look at me this much back when we were together."
"Sorry," he fumbled, dropping the remote control. "I think I'm still in shock that this night is even happening. I wouldn't have expected you to come for me, let alone want to sleep in the same hotel room as me. I thought I was dead to you."
"You've never been dead to me. Quite the opposite, actually," she remarked. Stephanie covered her mouth to stifle another yawn, and just when Chris thought they were finished, she laid a doozy on him. "I cut all ties with you because I was hurt. And where there's hurt, there's love, in its realest and truest form. Always remember that, 'kay?"
When he was able to find his voice, several seconds later, his answer came out in a mere squeak. "I will." Chris leaned himself over and managed to find her exposed cheek in the dark, pressing his lips to the spot for quite a while and pulling away when he was content with his efforts. "Have a good night. We'll talk more in the morning, yeah?"
"For sure. Goodnight."
