A Changed Man – Chapter 10
He kept his distance for the week; it was what she'd wanted, time. Despite the fact it seemed alien to him now, not talking to her daily, not sharing their lives, laughing, joking. He hated seeing her worried, her expression dark and distracted and knowing he was the cause.
He wanted to make her smile. Crack some off-the-cuff joke and see her eyes twinkle. It was something he'd always loved about how they were together, their ability to make each other laugh, to have fun even on the greyest of days.
His head snapped up as he heard a large sneeze and somebody blowing their nose, glancing around he watched as Jackie dropped a tissue into the bin and then slumped into her chair.
"Oh god," she drawled coughing into another tissue.
"Feeling off it?" He asked from across the desk, throwing a file onto the desk.
"Obviously." She snapped, then softened her voice as a slight hint of guilt crept in. "Picked up a cold from some girl we had in the other day."
"Want me to get you something? Orange juice, tea, lemsip?"
She shook her head, "I'm fine, don't fuss."
"Okay." He dropped his eyes back to the file letting out a long breath.
"Oh bollocks," she snapped slamming her hand on the desk. "This bloody PC, if it went any slower."
"Want me to take a look?"
"What are you today? Mr bloody fix it! I think I can manage..."
"I'm not sure, you seem... distracted."
"Aye, is there any wonder?"
He lowered his voice, leaning forward across the desk, "No but..."
"Oh don't start 'explaining' again, I've heard enough excuses from you to last a lifetime."
"Below the belt."
"What the hell's going on with you two? Bickering like school kids, get on with some work can we." Burke growled as he passed by their desks.
Cautiously Robbie caught her eye, trying a small sigh, to his relief she returned it before dropping her head back to work.
Needing air Jackie took her tea up to the roof, it was brisk and breezy but the freshness felt good. She tightened the scarf around her neck and moved out of sight of the door, a little to the side, and leant against the edge looking out over the city.
It was a moment or two before she realised there was the awful smell of cigarettes wafting over and when she turned to look Robbie was sat back on an upturned crate, like some naughty school boy behind the bike sheds.
"Why didn't you..." She snapped, surprised.
He shrugged, "Didn't want to disturb."
"I just needed some air," she turned to leave.
"Look don't go," he stubbed his cigarette out. "I will. Been here longer."
"Thought you'd given that up. Then again, thought there were other things you'd given up too."
"Are we gonna do this for long? I mean I know I deserve it and I'm happy to serve my time, but could we have a time-scale at least so I can be prepared for the mental barrage every day."
"Time-scale!" She turned away from him, gritting her teeth, she didn't want to argue with him, and he was right, she'd done nothing but pick at him all week despite him deserving it.
Sneezing she reached for a tissue from her pocket.
"Look I'm sorry, I have given up, needed it today though." He went to stand by her side, folding his arms as he leant against the wall. "Sorry you're ill."
"Not your fault."
For a few minutes they stood in companionable silence and then she said very gently, "I don't like the taste."
"Of cigarettes?" He finally offered.
She nodded her head. "Yes, I don't like how they taste."
She gulped the last of her tea and turned back to the door, leaving Robbie stood in the chilly wind just as the first hints of rain took form.
It was a hell of a long day and she was in need of a glass, or bottle, of wine, her dressing gown and the couch.
After a quick shower and change she made her way to the lounge, lined up wine, snacks and tissues on the coffee table and sank down beneath the duvet sticking on the television. It wasn't long before she was sat up again, blowing her nose and cursing her aching body. It had been a long time since a cold had made her feel so damned ill.
Laying her heavy head back against the pillows she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. Of course it was him first and foremost, as it had been for months, for longer perhaps. And with him came a whole confusion of emotions; she missed him, that was the first emotion; she missed what they'd had these past five months. She was still angry with him; she still wanted to slap some sense into him. But then reason came in, and she considered how long he'd been the way he was and for how long he'd had to change and really, taking all into account, he wasn't doing half bad. If he was an alcoholic who'd suffered a relapse she would have been proud, only one slip up in what... eight months...good going. But the problem was it wasn't his head or kidneys on the receiving end, it was her.
Sighing she opened her eyes and reached for her glass of wine taking a large gulp. She needed a good movie to take her mind off it – instead she got the doorbell ringing and the stark reality of how tired and ill she felt.
Reluctantly she dragged herself up from the couch and tied her dressing gown a little tighter as she made her way through to the front door. She eased it open only slightly and found Robbie out there on the doorstep.
"Robbie..." she sighed, fully opening the door. "Look it's late and I'm..."
"Ill, I know. Look, I cooked..." He held up plastic containers. "Not bought in neither, I really cooked this time." He attempted a small smile to which she didn't respond. Bad memories perhaps, too raw to drop hints of his past screw ups, they usually laughed about it. Still, he wasn't the type to give up easily.
"Now, I know you're not the type of woman to ask for help or even want it. You don't want me to fuss over you, that's fine. You probably don't even want me here, that's fine too. But... it's Friday night, you're ill and I get the feeling you haven't eaten so I've cooked for you." He held a hand up before she could speak. "I'm not expecting to be invited to stay, you can take it and heat it up and eat alone. That's fine."
"Robbie, stop bloody talking and get the hell in here, its freezing."
He smiled, properly this time, "Actually, I'm a little afraid to come in; I'm aware of your skill in the arm-snapping department."
She laughed, for the first time in over a week.
"So, not too bad?" He asked as she put her plate down on the floor and sat back on the couch, slipping her legs up beneath her.
"No, not too bad, quite nice actually."
"Want some dessert? I have to admit to buying that though."
"I could tell from the cardboard box, I'm not a detective for nothing you know."
"I've missed you," he admitted.
She nodded, "Yes, I know, I've missed you too. And it's only been a few days."
"Six."
"But who's counting right?" She smiled. "I'll have coffee with my dessert and a brandy."
"Coming up." He got up from the floor, leaning on a chair to help him, and collected their plates.
She curled back on the couch, pulling the duvet back over her and stared at the fire Robbie had lit. Part of her was adamant that she wouldn't give in too easily, yet the rational part of her knew the decision had already been made. Sneezing again she reached for the box of tissues.
"The brandy should do you some good," he said returning with a tray of goodies.
"Thanks," she took a quick sip of it and coughed at the heat, "perhaps you shouldn't sit too close." She warned.
"I don't mind." But he returned to sitting on the floor by the fire. "Can you taste the cheesecake?"
"Lemon," she smiled, "and it's glorious."
"Thought you'd like it."
"You know I might as well stick this straight to my hips."
"I kinda like your hips," he replied quickly, without thinking, but she didn't seem to mind the comment and it gave him encouragement. "Can we talk about us yet?" He asked gently.
"Us?" She sat forward, reaching for her coffee, mulling over the word.
"Yeah, is there an us? Where are we...? I guess that's what I'm asking."
"I don't know Robbie," she shrugged. "I don't know where it's gonna take us." She swallowed, pushing her now empty plate aside. "I want to try though."
Relief swept through him and he audibly sighed at her words, the lump in his throat dissipating somewhat.
"Thank you."
"Don't say that, as I said before, I don't want to be some kind of saviour Robbie. This is meant to be a partnership."
"It is."
"So don't make me feel like I'm the one carrying it. I need to feel, to know, that you're as much a part of this as I am. It can't just be because I'm pushing for it."
"I've never felt like that, it's always equal. It was me who started it Jacks, remember."
She did remember, his awkward confession of love in the car park.
"I always wondered if that was just a knee-jerk reaction to the engagement." She admitted.
"Maybe it was, maybe it just gave me the kick in the balls I needed to sort myself out, to sort my head out."
She sat back, twirled the brandy glass in her hand, "I'm not going to find it easy to trust you again you know."
"I know that, I wouldn't expect it, but I am in this for the long haul, not a quick fix."
She nodded, draining her glass and sitting it back on the tray. Turning, she laid back on the couch, resting her head on the plumped up pillows and stretching her legs out, her entire body sighing in pleasure at the movement.
"Thank you for dinner; it was wonderful, best thing I've eaten in a while."
"You're welcome," he enjoyed watching her right now, how relaxed she looked, despite her obvious cold. "Anything else you require?"
"My feet ache," she smiled wiggling her toes, "unless you want to escape?"
"Hardly," he shifted, lifting her legs and easing himself into the space at the end of the couch, her feet in his lap as he set about rubbing them.
"Talk to me Robbie," she whispered closing her eyes.
"About?"
"Anything. Life. Work. Us. Any random thing, music, films, art... gardening."
"Gardening?" He smirked watching her face, serene and at ease; beautiful. "I can't take my eyes off you right now." He said so gently. "I don't think I ever want to leave you, this moment."
She opened her eyes to look up at him, a slight smile on her face.
"What could be better?" He asked, "than sitting here with you, warm and content, good food, wine, the best company I've ever had."
"You couldn't think of anything to say about the garden?"
He laughed, "Not right now, should I start getting into it, planting hanging baskets for the coming summer?"
"I quite like it, it takes my mind off things, a Sunday spent planting and then watching things grow. It can be rewarding."
"I'll keep it in mind, the closest I've ever got was mowing the lawn every few months, and the flat doesn't even have one so..."
"I don't think it's something you forget, like riding a bike."
He paused, this talk of inconsequential things was nice, a world away from the icy conditions they'd had all week. But he really wanted to make sure she knew exactly how he felt.
"I think we..." he squeezed her foot, "I'm gonna sound like a right sentimental idiot."
"Blame it on the wine," she closed her eyes again, "I won't tell anyhow."
"I think we can make it you know; that whole relationship thing, being with someone for the rest of your life, never really wanted it before, even when I was married – never understood it then."
"But you do now?"
He nodded then realised she couldn't see him, "Yeah, I do. I know what I want."
"What's that?"
"Someone there at the end of the day who gives a damn." He'd given up rubbing her feet and instead his hands rested there, one on her ankle, the other on her leg.
"When things get crap and I'm exhausted and just want to cry I want somebody to hold me and reassure it will pass." She said.
"I can try and do that."
"Someone to make me a cup of tea on a Sunday morning and bring me the papers."
"I'm not a lapdog!" He teased.
She dug her heel in his thigh.
"Ah, alright, tea and papers on a Sunday." He stroked her leg, remembered the silkiness of her skin and how pure it was, that gentle curve to her breasts and how she liked to be kissed up her spine.
"To be held," she whispered, half-asleep, "and know when I wake in the morning you'll still be there, and not just for the sex."
"I'll be here," he finally said, sitting back. He closed his eyes, still listening to her breathing, he knew within minutes she was asleep and he wondered whether he should carry her to bed or if he could stand to sit there all night and sleep.
In the end he decided on the latter, he didn't want to move her and he half wondered how she'd react to him being in her bedroom again. So, he pulled the quilt back down over her feet and leaned further back, quickly falling to sleep himself.
Hope that was ok... please review!