The morning of Monday, December 21, comes around faster than the couple anticipated. Abbie leaves Crane's apartment that morning, kissing him goodbye and promising to be back after lunch to spend some time with him before the Oxford-arranged car service comes to retrieve him at three.
Half an hour after she leaves, Crane's phone rings. He sets the suitcase he's just pulled out of a closet on his bed, then goes to answer it.
His brow furrows at the number which is unfamiliar, but clearly from England.
"Hello?" he asks, opening a dresser drawer.
"Dr. Crane?"
"This is he," Crane replies as his brain puts together the pieces that recognize the voice.
"Yes, good morning. This is Dr. Hayward. Sorry about the last minute notice, but we're going to have to postpone your interview."
Crane drops the pairs of boxer briefs in his hand back into the drawer. "Oh… all right. Is there a problem?" he asks.
"Nothing to do with you at all, sir. Dr. Oliver's wife has just gone to hospital to have her baby unexpectedly early. Would you be able to come a week from today? We'll take care of the travel matters, of course."
Crane checks his calendar. "Yes, that's fine, thank you. And, congratulations to Dr. Oliver," he says, sitting heavily on his bed, the excitement of travel plus the nerves that had been building over the interview draining out of him.
"Thank you for understanding, Dr. Crane. Have a good day," Dr. Hayward says.
"Yes, the same to you, sir," Crane answers. The call disconnects and he stares at his phone. After a moment, he rings his mother to tell her he'll be there a week later. Then, he calls Abbie. There is no answer, so he leaves her a voicemail. "Good morning, Abbie, this is Ichabod. I have just received word that my trip to Oxford has been postponed one week. Apparently, there is an infant who has decided to be born ahead of schedule and disrupt everyone's plans," he says, chuckling. "In any case, I am wondering if you are free for dinner this evening. I shall await your return call with as much patience as I can muster, my dear."
He closes the suitcase and places it in the corner of his room since he'll need it next week. As he changes the dates of the trip in his phone, he thinks of something else to tell Abbie. He is just preparing to leave another voice mail, when the call connects.
"Hey, Ich," a voice answers. It's a familiar voice, but not Abbie's.
"Miss Jenny?" he asks. "May I ask why you are answering Abbie's phone?"
"Because, she gave it to me to hold while she's in having her MRI done," Jenny says. "I just decided to answer it this time, since you called, like, fifteen minutes ago, in case it was something important."
"MRI?" Ichabod asks, confused.
"On her knee. Didn't she tell you?"
"Um, no, she did not. I knew she needed to return to the doctor, but... she said you were meant to do some Christmas shopping today." She mentioned something about needing to schedule a follow up appointment, but said nothing about an MRI.
"Whoa, slow down there, dude," Jenny says. "First, we are going Christmas shopping. After she finishes here."
"But, why does she need this test?"
Jenny sighs, having a pretty good idea why her sister neglected to tell him the details. "She's having an MRI today because they think the fake knee might be cracked."
"Oh, dear..." he says. Why did she not tell me? I would have been happy to accompany her. I would have had plenty of time before I had to go to the airport.
"You still there?" Jenny asks. He's gone quiet.
"Yes," he answers. "If you would be so kind as to let her know I called, I would greatly appreciate it."
"Sure. Um, Ichabod?"
"Yes?"
"I don't know exactly what's going on with the two of you right now, but she likes you a lot."
"I like her a lot as well," he softly replies. A tiny light switches on inside his head and he realizes he probably does know why she didn't tell him about her MRI.
"Good," she tells him. "Remember that."
xXx
Abbie waits until after she's dropped Jenny off to call him. Jenny insisted they postpone their planned shopping trip and lunch "Until after you and British Guy get your issues sorted out."
"Hi," she nervously says when he answers.
"Hello, Abbie. How are you?" Crane softly greets. He's spent the last hour thinking about her. About them. Once his confusion subsided, he realized he wasn't angry with her. I didn't give her any reason to believe I wouldn't leave, given the opportunity.
"I'm okay," she answers. She sighs and continues. "Um... yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the MRI," she says.
"I'm sorry I gave you reason to feel you couldn't tell me about it," he replies.
"Oh," Abbie softly exclaims, surprised. She wasn't expecting an apology from him. "Um, thank you."
He is silent a moment. "Will you come over?" he asks. "I would very much like to see you."
She smiles involuntarily, the knot in her stomach relaxing. "I'm on my way," she answers, then notices she was already driving towards his place instead of hers.
"Thank you."
"See you in five."
"I'll be waiting."
Four minutes later, she presses his buzzer, and appears at his door shortly after that. She is about to apologize again, but before she can get the words out, he kisses her. "Are you all right? When will you know the results?" he asks, his blue eyes searching hers as his hands gently frame her face.
"It's not cracked," she says, remembering what Jenny had relayed to her. He exhales, relieved, and she continues. "They saw a line on the x-ray that turned out to be nothing. I tore a couple of tendons and there's an infection in there, so they gave me antibiotics."
"An infection?" Crane replies, frowning in concern. "Oh, dear…"
Abbie quickly reassures him. "If you think about it, this is actually good news. Because, if it was cracked, I'd have to have surgery again. Meds and coddling are definitely preferable," she explains, touched at his immediate concern. She reaches up and caresses his cheek, just looking up at him for a moment. "Can we sit?"
"Of course, of course, forgive me, Abbie. Please, come..." he says, leading her to the couch. "Do you need anything? Are you supposed to elevate it? Perhaps a cushion? Ice?"
She smiles at his attentiveness, but her heart feels tight with uncertainty and guilt. "I'm supposed to put it up, thanks," she says, sitting and removing her boots. "I have another appointment in three weeks. I'm supposed to keep using the cane at least until then," she adds, swinging both legs up across the sofa cushions.
Crane takes her boots and places them by the door. He returns and sits just past her feet. "Is this all right?" he asks.
"It's fine," she answers. "Look, Ichabod, I... I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about the test," she says, deciding it's time to get to the Issue At Hand.
He nods once. "May I ask why? I... well, recent developments with Oxford aside, I thought things were going very well between us."
She sighs heavily and looks down at her hands clasped in her lap, saying nothing for a few long moments. "They are, but that's just the thing. Oxford. You're probably leaving," she simply says. "I... I guess I figured it would be easier to start... distancing myself..."
"Oh, Abbie," he says, "even if they offer me the job, I... I don't know for certain that I would accept."
She looks up at him. "This is your dream job, Ichabod. Why would you not go?"
His eyes lock onto hers. "I can think of one very good reason," he very softly says.
She blinks and exhales, not realizing she had been holding her breath. "No." She shakes her head. "You can't stay just for me. I mean, I... I want you to stay, but... I could never ask that of you. I would never. It's not my place, and I would always know that you gave up your dream for me." He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again. She looks at him, watching him intently, and realizes his face is telling her things his words aren't. "Ichabod," she says, reaching out for his hand, "you need to stop being so... polite. I can't read your mind. Sometimes, I can't even read your expressions. It doesn't matter if your opinion is different from mine or if you think I'm not going to like what you are going to say. Please... tell me what is on your mind. Always tell me."
He moves from the couch, sitting on the coffee table, near her face. "Abbie, I... my feelings for you are..." he breaks off, not sure if he should say the words. Is it too soon? Will I frighten her away?
"Ichabod?" she prompts, heart pounding.
"Strong," he finishes. "I have very strong feelings for you. However, I do not feel I can ask you to come with me any more than you feel you can ask me to stay," he says.
"Why not?" she asks. I don't care if we are in Sleepy Hollow or Oxford, as long as we are together.
"I am a greedy man, it seems. I would very much like this position, but the thought of being parted from you..." Abbie feels inexplicable tears forming in her eyes, and she attempts to blink them away. "Will you come with me, Abbie? At least to the interview next week?" he carefully asks. "I know it is asking more than I should and I realize we have not been together very long, so I understand if you say no..."
Abbie gently presses her fingers to his lips. "What do you want, Ichabod?" she softly asks, her heart pounding as she stares back at him, patiently waiting for his answer.
He reaches up and takes her hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her skin, pondering her small hand in his for a moment.
She bites her lip, physically holding back her impulse to not wait. To throw caution to the wind, immediately say "yes", and just follow this man across the ocean, but she needs more. She needs to know with complete certainty. Needs to know that he feels the same as she. I don't want him to ask me just because he senses it is what I want.
He squeezes her hand, then drops to his knees beside the couch, moving closer. He leans forward and kisses her, lingering over her lips, savoring their flavor and feel. "I love you, Abbie," he quietly says, his lips hovering near hers, eyes closed. He kisses her once more, then leans back enough to look into her eyes. "I love you more than I can possibly express. Please come with me."
"I love you, too, Ichabod," Abbie whispers, kissing him softly. "I'll come with you," she answers, closing her eyes as he sags against her, relieved, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. Her hand moves up to his head, her fingers threading through his hair.
Crane squeezes her tightly, then lifts his head and kisses her. "Weren't you going shopping with Jenny?" he asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
"We're going tomorrow," she says. "She said, 'Take me home, call Ichabod, and fix this misunderstanding before it becomes a full-blown mess.'"
He smiles. "I like your sister."
"She likes you, too," she replies. "Fortunately for you," she adds, chuckling.
"So... does this mean I have you," he kisses her, "all to myself," he kisses her again, "for the rest of the day?"
"Mmm-hmm," she answers, nodding, lifting her chin to kiss him some more. "Ichabod?" she asks, gently pulling away.
"Hmm?" he asks, slowly opening his eyes.
"How is this going to work? I mean, my coming with you. Didn't they book your flight?" she asks. He blinks, surprised. "Sorry. You know my brain works that way sometimes. Things just pop into my head."
He moves from the floor, sitting on the couch again, this time lifting her knees so her legs are draped across his lap. "What time is it?" He looks at his phone. "So, it's nearly 4:30 there... I suppose I can call... hopefully that number is not his office number..." he mumbles, poking around on his phone.
"Who are you calling?" Abbie asks.
"Dr. Nigel Hayward. He called earlier to inform me that the interview had been postponed," Crane replies. He is about to press Send on the screen, but hesitates. "You have a passport?"
"I do," she answers, nodding. "Jenny and I went to the Dominican Republic last year. One of those all-inclusive resorts. It was amazing," she answers.
"Sounds like it," he says, his eyes focusing into the distance for a moment at the thought of Abbie in a bikini on a tropical beach.
She laughs, sensing the reason for his distraction. "A lot of women went topless on the beach," she goads. His eyes widen and he stares at her. "I didn't," she laughs, unable to torture him that much. "Jenny did though. Once. After a few margaritas." He's still staring. "Don't you have a call to make?"
"What? Oh. Yes," he stammers, pressing the button.
A few moments later, the call connects. "Yes, hello. Dr. Hayward? Ichabod Crane calling. I do hope I'm not disturbing you, but I am wondering if you would be good enough to provide me the name of the travel agent or secretary who has booked my travel ticket," Crane says. He leans forward and takes a notepad and pen from the coffee table. "Oh, no, there are no problems, I assure you. The date and times are fine. There has simply been a slight change in that I will be bringing a companion along with me, and I should like to ensure her travel ticket will coincide with my own when I book her flight." He says, tapping his pen on the pad. "Yes, of course, I'll hold." He glances sideways at Abbie, cocks an eyebrow at her, and she starts giggling again. "Yes," he says, his eyes moving back towards the notepad. Crane writes down the name and number. "Thank you very much, sir. Yes, I look forward to meeting you as well," he says. He tosses the pad and pen on the table. "I'll call her first thing tomorrow morning," he declares. "But, now... what would you like to do, my love?"
Abbie smiles at the endearment. "I'm hungry. Lunch?"
"Well, I was anticipating leaving the country today, so my provisions are scant, but I believe I could manage some grilled cheese sandwiches," he says, glancing towards his kitchen. "Or, we could order something. Or go out."
"Grilled cheese is fine," she says.
He leans over and kisses her. "Hmm. I propose we have a simple lunch, and then go out someplace nice for dinner?" he suggests.
"Sounds good," she agrees. "Um, I have an overnight bag in my car," she says, biting her lower lip. His eyebrow raises, and she adds, "I was going to stay over at Jenny's tonight actually. She knows that's not going to happen now."
xXx
After a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and almost-stale potato chips, Abbie and Crane spend the rest of the day together.
Abbie sends Jenny a text telling her everything is good and she will tell her more about it tomorrow. She receives the reply I've got tomorrow morning off now since I'm working this afternoon. Shopping and lunch.
Abbie and Crane spend most of the afternoon talking. He asks her more about her appointment and her knee, wishing to learn everything he can about it and a bit concerned about how the long plane ride will affect Abbie's comfort. She reassures him again and asks him seemingly endless questions about London and Oxford as she grows more excited about the trip. He happily describes things he thinks she'll like and places he wishes to show her, reveling in the knowledge that she will be with him.
She helps him prepare for his interview, giving him questions they may ask, helping him fine-tune his resumé, credentials, and references.
The events of that morning seem to have built a new closeness between Crane and Abbie. There is a level of comfort present that wasn't there before. They were already quite comfortable with one another, but now that they have confessed their feelings, there is a warm security surrounding that comfort.
She loves me.
He loves me.
They choose Italian food for dinner, largely because there is a very good restaurant nearby and they did not feel like venturing out very far.
By the time they leave the restaurant, boxed leftovers in hand, snow is softly falling, and there is a fresh, white coating over the old, gritty, gray layer.
"Maybe we'll be snowed in," Crane comments, opening Abbie's car door for her.
"Why do I have a feeling that's wishful thinking on your part?" she replies, smiling as he leans down and pecks her lips.
"Because, it is," he simply answers. He closes the door and walks around to the passenger side. "I can think of far worse situations than being sequestered in your apartment – or my apartment, I'm not choosy – with you."
"As long as it's cleared by next week, right?" she asks, pulling out of the lot. Out of habit, her eyes sweep across the parked cars, looking for a black Dodge Charger, before she remembers she no longer needs to think about that. Andy hasn't troubled them since Thanksgiving. Plus, he's gone home for the holiday break.
"Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights? I haven't been past the zoo this year," she asks, waiting at a traffic light. "You have seen the zoo Christmas display since moving here, right?"
She looks over at him and immediately knows that Christmas lights are the furthest thing from his mind. "I have," he answers, his voice a soft rumble. "And, no, I do not wish to view the holiday displays this evening."
Abbie reaches over and turns the heat down. She's suddenly gotten very warm all on her own. "Okay," she whispers. The light turns green and she navigates her Jeep through the snow back to his apartment.
xXx
"Ichabod!" Abbie exclaims in surprise as Crane lifts her in his arms, carrying her towards his bedroom. "You didn't even lock the door!" she says, giggling, her head falling against his shoulder.
"Oh." He abruptly turns and strides back to her door. He pauses just long enough for her to reach out and flip the deadbolt. "Thank you," he murmurs just before he passionately kisses her, as though he can't wait a moment longer. Then, he retraces his steps to his room.
"Damn," she exhales, her head falling against his shoulder. She tilts her face to kiss his neck, and is just about to reach for his shirt buttons when she softly lands on his bed.
He crawls over her, his eyes soft yet somehow intense, and he lowers himself to kiss her, holding himself over her, only touching her with his lips. She reaches up and cups his face in her small hands, her fingers running through his beard, trying to coax him closer, needing him closer.
Crane pulls away, leaning back. He catches Abbie's fingers in his hands, kisses them, then gently pulls her into a sitting position. He reaches down and pulls upward on the hem of the thick sweater she is wearing. She pulls it off and tosses it aside, revealing a camisole tank top beneath.
"There you are," he whispers, leaning forward and kissing her shoulder. "That jumper is so bulky." He speaks against her skin as he kisses a path across her collarbones to her other shoulder.
"Keeps me warm," she replies, letting her head drop back.
"I'll keep you warm," he says, nuzzling against her neck before placing a wet kiss on her pulse point. He guides her back down to lie against the pillows again, shifting his attention to the button on her jeans. He opens it and carefully pulls them down over her legs. "Why must you wear such form-fitting trousers?" he asks.
"You like them," she says, smiling.
"I do, but you must admit, they are," he pauses, pulling them off, "ruddy inconvenient at times like this." He pulls the socks from her feet, tickles one, and almost gets kicked.
"Sorry!" she exclaims, laughing.
"Live and learn," he replies, sitting on the bed. She sits up again, meeting him and helping with his buttons. He kisses her, leaving the buttons to her as his hands slide around her torso, shoving the back of her camisole up to feel her skin. One hand ventures down to gently squeeze her backside.
"I'm never going to... get this shirt off of you... if you... keep doing that," she says, attempting to speak between kisses.
"Never going to stop doing this," he says, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her deeply. Her hands are trapped between them and her fingers curl into his chest, clutching his shirt. "However, you do have a point." He releases her lips and exhales, his forehead against hers. "I love you, Abbie," he breathes.
He spoke so softly, she wouldn't have heard him if she wasn't so close. "I love you, too, Ichabod," she replies, kissing him.
Crane loosens his hold on her just enough to allow her to undo the last remaining button and push his shirt from his shoulders. He kisses her once more, then slides off of the bed to remove the rest of his clothes.
Abbie quickly pulls the covers back and moves to the edge of the bed as he returns to it, placing her hands on his thighs, then sliding them up to his hips. She gently pulls him towards her, looks up at him through her eyelashes, then leans forward and takes his length in her mouth.
"Oh..." he groans, his head falling back. "Abbie..." His hand reaches out, searching for some form of support as his knees weaken under her ministrations, nearly buckling. Finding nothing, his fingers flex uselessly at his sides as he tries to find the will to stay upright.
Abbie runs her tongue up and down his length a few times before taking him in as far as she can, one hand wrapped around the base of him while the other dances over his skin, caressing enticingly.
"Abbie," Crane croaks, touching her shoulder.
She recognizes that tone of voice and slowly slides him out of her mouth and reclines back on the bed, resting on her elbows.
"You are simply divine," he rumbles, leaning over her and reaching for her camisole, lifting the hem. He kisses her stomach, then retreats slightly so she can pull the snug garment off over her head.
His eyebrow rises when he sees she doesn't have a bra on.
"There's a bra built in," she absently explains, moving back up by the pillows.
He nods once and turns his attention to her panties. "Ooo, my favorite pair," he says, running his finger along the edge of the small garment, navy blue with small red and white stars.
Abbie chuckles as he slides them down over her legs, pausing to kiss her bad knee as he goes. Crane drops her panties to the floor and lies beside her, his broad hand settling on her hip for just a moment before moving up over her stomach to her breast. He kisses her, his tongue soft against hers, his thumb grazing her nipple. He releases her lips and moves lower, his hand sliding over her skin. His hand trails downward, between her legs, as he gently suckles her breast, kissing and sucking, flicking his tongue across the hardened peak in concert with the motion of his fingers.
"Ichabod..." Her voice is a breathy moan as she arches slightly, her hands in his hair. He moves over to attend her other breast, humming contentedly, his lips skimming her soft, fragrant skin. He slides two fingers into her, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over her sensitive nub. She moans again, her fingers tightening in his hair.
She blindly gropes with one hand, reaching down until her fingers brush his manhood. Her arms are too short to grasp him like she wants, so she pets and caresses him with her fingertips, drawing small groans from his throat.
He kisses his way back up to her lips, and she pushes up against him, moving so she is over him.
"Be careful of your knee, Love," he murmurs when she moves to nibble his ear. He knows she won't do anything that would hurt her leg, and they've made love this way before, but the words are out before he can stop them.
"I'm good," she answers, touched by his concern. "Thanks," she adds, pausing to look down into his blue eyes. She caresses his cheek, then reaches down between them to take him in her hand. She strokes his shaft a few times, then sinks down over him, winding her legs around his as she leans forward to kiss him. (Shortly after their first time, Abbie told Crane she was on the pill and, since they are both clean and committed to one another, they decided to dispense with the use of condoms.)
"Abbie," he groans, flexing his hips in time with her motions, his jaw slack, eyes closed. "Abbie," he repeats, whispering her name like a prayer.
Abbie pushes up on her hands, leaning back just enough for Crane to reach up and cover one of her breasts with his hand, the other sliding down her back to cup her backside. He glides over her nipple with his palm, the slight roughness of it sending a thrill through her, and she gasps.
She moves a little faster, a little more urgently as the sensations build, gradually overtaking them, together. She removes his hand from her breast, threads her fingers through his, and holds it against the mattress, leaning on their joined hands. He looks up into her beautiful brown eyes, holding her gaze until she squeezes his hand tightly.
"Oh!" she cries out, then, "Mmm... oh!" Her purring is interrupted as he digs his fingers into her backside and thrusts forcefully up into her, finding his release with a low groan.
She relaxes over him, lying on his chest like a contented cat, her fingers still entwined with his. She sighs contentedly, turning her face to kiss his chest.
He glides his free hand over her skin, up to her shoulders, then down as far as he can reach and back up again. His hand moves up and down, slowly caressing. She shifts just enough to disengage them, and he kisses the top of her head.
They lie together in silence for several long minutes; warm, comfortable and happy.
Then, Crane hears Abbie sniffle and notices his chest feels wet. "Abbie?" he asks, lifting his head to look down at her. "Are you crying, my love?
"Maybe," she answers, her voice soft and muffled by his chest.
He wraps his arm tightly around her, holding her as close as he can. "Will you tell me why?" He has his suspicions, but he's not going to make any assumptions.
She moves so she is beside him, still holding his hand on his chest. She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. "So many reasons," she says. "I'm happy. Happier than I ever thought I would be. I mean, I was happy before, too. With you. Then, when that letter came... well, you know."
He nods, remembering how she told him this afternoon how difficult it was for her to try to be positive for him because she didn't want to be selfish or detract from his excitement.
"I... I was scared," she admits. Wiping her face, she sits up a bit, looking down at him. "I thought I was going to lose you, and it scared me more than I was expecting. I love you, Ichabod," she says, touching his cheek. "I haven't exactly had a good track record for not losing loved ones, you know. I was afraid I was going to have to add you to the list."
"Oh, Abbie, I'm so sorry... I..."
She places her fingers over his lips, and he automatically kisses them. "I know. I know now. It's just that I lost my parents, my mentor... I even lost Jenny for a while..." she pauses, shaking her head. "No matter how often it happens, it's not something you get used to, you know? You never grow accustomed to losing someone you love."
He nods again, understanding. "Yes, of course," he answers, wondering about what happened to Jenny, but knowing it is a conversation for another time.
She sighs again. "I don't want to rehash all the details again, because there's no need, but... all I could think was, 'No, not him, too. I can't lose him, too,' but I felt powerless to do anything about it."
He lifts up and kisses her. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
"You don't need to keep apologizing, Ichabod," she says. "That's not why I'm telling you this, and I shoulder some of the blame, too." He nods again, and she continues. "This has just been such a roller coaster."
"Indeed, it has," he agrees. "But, if we are to be riding this roller coaster, I am very glad we are doing so together." He reaches up and wipes the tears from her cheeks, heedless of the wetness in his own eyes.
"Sorry," she says, giving him a watery smile. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Crane gently pulls her down to lie beside him again, her head resting on his shoulder. Abbie automatically curls against him, her leg thrown over his. "Never apologize for your feelings, Love," he says. "There are times when I feel a bit overwhelmed myself."
She nods. "That's a good word. 'Overwhelmed'." She pauses a moment. "I once thought I loved Luke. That's my ex, the detective."
"The 'You look hot' bloke?" he asks, cocking a judgmental eyebrow, clearly disapproving of Luke's treatment of her.
"Ha," she laughs. "Yes, that's the one. I realized, later, that I didn't. I loved the idea of him, but not actually him, you know?"
He nods, waiting for her to continue.
"I was overwhelmed by him, too. But, not in the same way. I'd look at the clock, wondering when I could escape back to my own place, or when he was going to leave. I liked the idea of having a boyfriend, but… only when I wanted him around." She stops, furrowing her brow. "This sounds weird."
"No, not at all. I think I'm following your logic," he reassures her, kissing her forehead. "Do go on."
"With you, though," she looks up at him, reaching up to stroke his beard, combing it with her fingertips, pushing it against the grain and then smoothing it back down, "I don't get tired of your company. I never want to go home, or wonder when you're leaving, or want to go back to class after lunch. My feelings for you overwhelm me… and I want them to. I crave it."
He catches her fingers and kisses them, then ducks his head and kisses her lips, wrapping his arms around her again, pulling her closer so she is, once more, half-sprawled across him. "I love you so much, Abigail," he murmurs, his lips still close enough to brush against hers when he speaks. "I never thought I would feel this way about anyone…"
"After what happened with Mary?" she guesses, kissing him.
"No. Ever. I never felt about her the way I feel about you," he says, his eyes searching hers. "It is simply… amazing and wonderful, and sometimes I fear I'm going to wake up from some sort of strange, enchanted sleep and discover this has all been some horribly wonderful dream."
Abbie laughs, gently dropping her forehead against his nose. "Now you're just talking crazy," she says, smiling fondly down at him.
He returns her smile and kisses her. "Perhaps," he allows. "But, if this is a dream, I pray I never wake from it."
"Me, too," she agrees, closing her lips over his and kissing him deeply, pouring herself into him just as he is into her.
Moments later, they are lost in one another again.
