Chapter 10: Morning
. . .
It's light out.
The early morning rays shine through the thin slats of the window blinds of her bedroom.
Her room.
She's laying on her side with her back pressed against his chest while his left arm rests above her head and his right arm lays dangerously close to her right breast.
The blankets are thrown haphazardly at their thighs because of the warm heat seeping inside from the early summer sun.
He had stayed with her all night. Stayed holding her against his chest as she had silently cried in his arms.
He had kissed her. His mouth moving over hers and taking as much as he was giving. He would have regretted it and kicked himself for it if it hadn't been for her equal participation.
But if he was being honest, he couldn't tell himself that he hadn't wanted to kiss her for years anyways, even considering her state, her hormones, his vows. The past and present.
He had felt as if years had been absolved in that kiss.
He swallows hard. This is Olivia. His partner for nine years before she had left. The woman he had known to be there at his side in the toughest of situations, the woman he would watch stand next to a victim and offer herself to lean on when she had no one for herself.
This was Olivia. Yet, the thought of taking any of that kiss back nearly choked him. Nothing had ever felt so right in his life. Nothing had compared to the feeling in the pit of his stomach the instance he saw her sitting there in the silky nightgown with the straps hanging loosely over her shoulders.
Her skin radiated softness, need. He had never seen her like that before and just wanted to touch her. And he had in that moment.
All he had been able to see was this beautiful, vulnerable, pregnant woman in front of him and he couldn't and still can't take his eyes off of her.
He's fallen and it feels like he's in some weird purgatory. The way she makes him feel, seems like heaven but he's not sure if what's in front of him is going to last and it makes the air thick and smoggy around him.
With the hand bent up next to her head, he gently runs his index finger across the lazy waves of her bangs, moving them from her eyes and placing them next to her ear. He runs little circles over her skin as she sleeps in a fit of slumber, mumbling quiet words in her sleep, seemingly experiencing what he imagines are dreams of her child. Of her life, of her future.
The hand that lies over her side runs lightly down to her waist, palm open and skims the light pink, silk nightgown.
She's so beautiful. Her skin prickles with tiny goosebumps from his touch and he lightly runs his hands over the roughened flesh and continues up her shoulder, stopping at her neck.
She doesn't move, but he can tell she's starting to wake. Her breathing is slow but he can see the muscles in her neck tense as she holds back the breath in her throat.
He thinks of the kiss once more. Again, he knows that she had initiated it, but as much as he wanted her to, he can't help but think she was confused. Hormone driven. He wants to know how much she truly feels for him.
If there's been anything he's wanted to know about her since he's been here, this need to know overrides them all.
What happened the night before was big. A boundary obliterated in a split second. A line surpassed that they would have never thought to cross even on the last day he had seen her over three years ago.
Taking the strand of hair in his fingers again, he lightly pushes it behind her ear as she lays quietly, unmoving in front of him.
"Good morning," he whispers next to her ear.
She stirs but he can tell she's still asleep. She'd started to wake earlier, but had apparently drifted off again with the influence of his touch. He breathes deeply and leans forward, kissing the back of her hair, letting the silky strands tickle his lips. She smells like lavender and lilac meshed together as one. It rouses his other senses and he buries his nose in her hair and rests his head on the pillow above hers.
The act alone sends recognition through him. Recognition that his first instinct with her is to kiss her, reassure her in the early dawn hours as she lays next to him. Recognition also that it's something so new that he's not sure if he's ever felt this at peace just laying with someone.
She continues to sleep and her breathing is even and slow as her legs adjust underneath the heavy blanket lying around their hips.
He watches her breathe deeply, then still. A few moments lapse and his eyes begin to droop closed as well until he hears her low voice permeate the almost non-existent distance between their bodies.
"Good morning." She looks over her shoulder at him with a small smile, but there's slight trepidation in her eyes that doesn't show in her voice. She stays level though and her hand that rests on her exposed hip reaches for his along her upper waist and intertwines their fingers. The combined weight of their hands dangles against the smooth fabric beneath her breasts and she shifts her body back, closer to his growing awareness of her. "How long have you been awake?" She speaks softly, sleepily as she keeps her eyes closed and tucks their hands close to her heart.
He lays his forehead against her soft hair and breathes her in. "Not long. How long ago did you wake up?" His voice reverberates out in a low cadence as the silence of the room becomes slightly tattered by the outside noise. Small birds chirp right beyond her window next to a lone branch that brushes up against the pane when enough wind gets behind it. A small nest resides there and he's thankful for the slight distraction.
"Mmm," she moans softly as she shifts again on her side. "I slept a little. I woke up a couple times and you were out cold each time," she smiles at him over her shoulder. "What time is it?"
"A little after eight."
She shifts again and he can tell she's trying to get comfortable but failing at it. In sleep she hadn't stirred from her position, but he realizes the longer she lays there awake, the more stiff and uncomfortable it is to lay on her side and against that part of her stomach.
"You want some breakfast?" He asks attempting to be of help while also distracting her from her discomfort.
Licking her lips, she turns over in his arms, letting go of his hand in the process. She stares at the ceiling as he stays laying on his side, hovering over her slightly as she drapes one hand above her head and the other lightly across her stomach.
Without moving her head from the pillow, she opens her lids and looks at him from the corner of her eye. "You don't have to, I'm not really hungry. You go ahead though. Make you something, I'll wait up here," she smiles softly before turning her gaze to the ceiling.
In the darkness of her eyes that are trained above them, he can tell something's different. She seems... down.
"You okay this morning, Liv?" he asks softly, soothingly as he reaches over and places his hand over hers against her stomach. She looks down at their hands covering her enveloped child and smiles.
"Yea," she nods quickly, never taking her eyes off of their hands. "Just tired. I haven't gone to bed that late in forever. I think I would have slept til noon if you hadn't been next to me."
He watches her face and it's sleepy but there's a lingering hint of fear. Trepidation. He squeezes her hand and lifts his own to her chin. "Quit thinkin' so much," he whispers to her. "Stop analyzing everything. You're okay, we're okay and you have to eat something, Liv. When's the last time you ate?" he asks, intentionally changing the subject.
She shrugs. Shaking her head once from side to side, she looks him in the eyes for a few seconds before turning away. "Uh, when we had dinner last night. Really, El. I'll get something before lunch. I promise," she tries to lie. But he knows her. Knows her antics and he'll do everything possible to help her.
He'd heard the doctor. Heard him telling her to do things that she hadn't been doing to nurture herself and the bundle growing inside of her. He shakes his head disapprovingly before she can continue to protest.
He starts to sit up in bed and has already kicked the covers all the way off his feet when she grabs his closest hand. "Where are you going?"
"Downstairs. I'm going to make you some toast and me some eggs. That way I'll feel better knowing you have something in your stomach," he says turning away from her and sitting on the edge of the bed. She lets go of his hand and lays there quietly staring at the ceiling once more. Realizing something is still on her mind, he decides to just ask her what's what she's mulling over in her head.
"What's going on, Liv?"
She just frowns slightly as in thought and shakes her head before looking into his eyes. "Nothing, I said. I'm fine."
He nods and turns back around still not completely believing her but deciding to drop it for now.
As he gets off the bed, he trudges to the other side and throws on the white undershirt he'd shed sometime during the night.
When he catches her gaze on his naked chest though, his body stiffens and he tries to act casual as the look in her eyes goes straight to his groin. He swallows harshly and tells himself that she's just not used to it, but he knows. She's been watching him closely, taking in his body like he's never known her to do so openly.
He reminds himself that he has to contain his reactions because not only is she vulnerable in her state but also, as he'd thought about before, hormonal. Horny.
Swallowing harshly, he looks away from her lingering gaze and pulls down the white fabric across his chest and abdomen, letting it fall against the waistband of his gray sweatpants. He scratches the back of his head casually, and without a word, makes his way out of the room to go make them some breakfast before he does something he'll kick himself for later.
He glances at her from over his shoulder and she's sitting higher against the headboard with the covers over her waist now and he gives her a small smile. "I'll be right back," he lets out calmly, softly, as if his body feels anywhere near that right now.
. . .
She itches.
Her knees touch as she squeezes them tightly together beneath the blankets covering her arched legs.
Her eyes close as she hears his bare feet pad down the rickety wood of the long staircase.
He'd been laying next to her. In her bed. With is arm draped around her in such a way she thought she'd never have the pleasure of feeling. His arm had felt so warm against her back and side that she had thought she was dreaming when she felt him move behind her earlier.
The skin still tingles on her side where he'd put his hands on her when he had thought she was still sleeping. Her upper arm still aches from his touch and the goosebumps are only now fading into the smooth skin of her olive complexion.
She doesn't know why his touch has such a profound effect on her at this moment.
One thing is clear though. He'd kissed her. Kissed her back. So it truly confuses her that she had felt his lips, yet his touch still sends shivers down her spine and heat through her veins.
She was relieved he hadn't pushed away from her, or completely left right there on the spot when she had leaned in to brush her lips across his.
The way he'd been staring at her in the doorway last night, she had prayed that it wasn't just in her mind. But when he had kissed her back she knew for certain and had finally fallen off that precipice of denial.
She had found her answer in the softness of his lips.
He had kissed her back. He had laid her down on the soft mattress and nipped and sucked on her lips and she let him.
Her mind is still fuzzy on exactly how it had ended. It wasn't overheated. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't sloppy, it was them.
She had wanted him to press his lips against hers for years. Seeing him in her doorway with darkened eyes and taught shoulders and waist in those sweats, had caused everything to flood back within her.
The same desires. The same wonderment. The same affliction.
And he had given her what she had wanted. He kissed her back.
She shakes her head in the warm, quiet room remembering every second. In her heart she knows this is abrupt, and in another recess of her thoughts, it's what she's always thought was inevitable. But in an even deeper place, she feels fearful of the could be's and what this says about her and what this time they're about to spend together is eventually going to mean for them.
She's five months pregnant with another man's child yet she can't get the image of Elliot, a man she's known for a big portion of her adult life, kissing her, out of her mind. She wants him, there's no doubt in that. But, she can't help but think her senses are over-sensitized by loneliness, her loss and her hormones.
And yet, it's Elliot and he's here and she isn't sure all that she's feeling can be explained by pregnancy heightened lust.
Twenty-five minutes later, she hears him coming up the stairs again with their breakfast and in the forefront of her mind, she wants to ask why? How? How is he able to do this with her all of a sudden? She wants to question how he's managed to brush aside whatever it was he had in New York to do this with her and not Kathy.
She's not a homewrecker. If this is going to finalize an ending to a marriage, she's not going to have it.
But then again, and she knows it's selfish, if she let him come out here in the first place, then is it worth trying to be the one to turn him back? Is it worth it when he obviously hasn't been upset over what's slowly changing between them?
She shakes her head. It's confusing and she doesn't want to have to deal with that on top of having to realize that if she has to force him to leave, go back home, she won't be able to handle having him here, lying with her, holding her, touching her, loving her and then letting him go to save something she's not even sure of anymore.
She wouldn't be able to take it.
For now, she stores those thoughts in the back of her mind as he lingers in the doorway with a tray of food and two glasses of orange juice from her overstuffed fridge in an under populated household.
He smiles at her then with that lazy grin she remembers. His lips tip to the side as he walks over to the side of her bed and places the tray on her nightstand. He looks over at her without moving his head, gauging her reaction to the two plates with an egg a piece and two pieces of toast each.
She smiles, slowly grinning while looking at the food.
The cocky bastard. He never listens to her and yet she loves him for it.
Looking up from the plates of food, she takes in his face and she realizes his relief. He'd seen her grin and now she wants to grab him and tell him that she's fine, she can do this herself, take care of herself, eat whenever. But in all honesty, she'll always appreciate the gesture.
"You really are feeding me, huh?" she teases him with a soft voice, peering at him from underneath her lashes. She plays with the edge of the comforter until she hears the plate clink against the metal cooking pan he had used as a tray.
He sits the white dish that holds her breakfast on her lap and clears his throat. "Mhm. You have food in your fridge so I'll make it a habit if I have to. The fact that you actually had food confused me though, I thought I was in Narnia for a second," he says grinning and sitting down by her arched legs. He playfully nudges her legs with his elbow and she grins back at him.
"Narnia?"
"Uh, the twins. Some magical, hidden, uh.. never mind," he sighs as he takes a big bite of his toast.
She shakes her head at him and takes a bite of her own toast.
He had spooned her. He had touched her. Had soothed her. He had made her breakfast. But most importantly he had kissed her. And now as she watches him silently eat his breakfast, she can't help but love him. And, she also realizes something else deep within, stronger than the doubt.
She doesn't want him to leave.
. . .
He's in her kitchen washing the dishes from their early morning breakfast when it hits him.
The realization hits him as the hot water cascades over his roughened skin.
As they sat there on her bed, he'd had an overwhelming feeling of familiarity and calm wash over him that intensified every time he felt her peeking at him from the corner of her eye.
And as he rinses the last of their dishes, he remembers the way he left her up there.
He's fucked. He's out-rightly fucked. She's only upstairs, maybe getting dressed for the day and he can't stop thinking about her for one damned second. He takes a deep breath and swipes the heel of his hand across his brow. His eyes narrow as he sits the dish in the dish drainer and he turns around to the table in the middle of the room.
The table he'd seen her sitting dishes down on as he'd watched her cook the day before, the table she'd sat at as her face paled and lost it's color. It looks so different in the light of day. Everything does.
And just as quickly those thoughts are pushed aside as he realizes she's hasn't come downstairs yet. He pulls the dish towel off his shoulder and dries his hands as he walks to the bottom step of the stair case.
He hangs the towel over the bannister and takes each step as slowly as he can while trying to hear any movement up above. All he can hear though, is the light shuffling of something hard and light weight across the wooden floor. It scrapes a few time and then it stops.
When he reaches the top step, he stands still and listens. He can hear something rattle and then a low 'pop' noise like the lid of something being popped off. He quickens his pace to see what she's doing and stops in the doorway as soon as he reaches her room.
Still clad in that nightgown, she's turned away from him, her back to the door and her hands fidgeting with something in front of her. As he watches her work with and finally open whatever is in her hands, he slowly approaches her from behind and places a hand on her shoulder.
Immediately, she jumps. "Shit, Elliot! What're doing?" Her voice is shaky like she's out of breath and her hands are trembling.
"Sorry, Liv," he shakes his head and bows slightly to look in her eyes. "I was about to ask you the same though."
She swallows harshly and takes a deep breath. "I was feeling achey so I thought some aspirin would help with the pain," she says softly. Almost immediately, her eyes furrow with concern because as soon as the word aspirin escaped her lips his had widened.
He gently reaches for her hand, the one still clenching around the round, pain relievers. "Olivia," he starts slowly. "Aspirin isn't good for the baby," he retorts while picking the white pills from her palm. "What were you doing anyways? Are you okay?" he asks, as she breathes heavily, her hair tangled around her face.
He can see the way she's pouting her lips and drooping her eyes and he realizes she's about to cry. She's tearing up right before him and he can't understand why. "I'm so stupid," she breathes out lowly. "I didn't think. My back was just hurting and I didn't hear the doctor say it wasn't o-"
He stops her by placing his palm on her cheek. "Olivia, that's the first thing he said when he asked what you had been doing before the pain had started last night. Don't you remember?"
She shakes her head sadly, her lip quivering as she looks up at him with dark brown eyes pooling with moisture. "I didn't hear him," she whispered sadly, silently berating herself for potentially hurting her child. "I'm stupid, Elliot. I should have known that," she shakes her head. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for this. I don't want hurt my child," she sniffs.
Staring him in the eyes, she wipes a tear away before turning around and sitting on the edge of the bed.
Elliot follows her and sits down next to her. He throws the now soggy tablets into the trash next to her nightstand before turning around and looking at her profile. Her hair sticks to her wet cheek and her eyes are downcast as she fiddles with a thread on her gown.
He immediately feels guilty. He's never seen her so unsure about something, especially this. He'd always known that she wanted to be a mother but this is different. She's not only been alone for the first five months, but she's in a different place and without the support she'd originally relied upon. Once again, he wonders what she's been going through out here for the last few years.
He tenderly grabs one of her hands, kissing it with a feather like touch before softly setting it back down in between their bodies. "Liv, you're not stupid," he says clearly, almost apologetically. He's always been speechless when it came to her. She's always made him tongue tied when she needed him to say those perfect words the most. He stares out the window in front of him as he feels her shift beside him and he knows this time, he needs to break free of that. "Where are the pain meds the doctor said you could have?"
Her voice comes out soft and vulnerable and he cracks when she speaks the words.
"Under the bed."
He lifts his eyes toward her and furrows his brows in confusion. "How'd they get there?"
"I accidentally knocked them off the night stand when I was trying to get up. I almost had my fingers around them, but then my hand hit the bottle the wrong way it and it rolled all the way under. I was trying to get them right before you came up..." she trails off.
It hits him then. The labored breathing he'd noticed earlier was from the onslaught of movements she had put her body through trying to get that bottle, all while he'd been downstairs thinking about the way she had looked in that silk.
He could kick himself in the ass right now and sighs.
"Shit, Liv. You could've asked me," he says quietly. Knowing her, she'd probably didn't want to ask him for fear of looking weak when she's look anything but that to him ever since he's known her."After last night I just don't want anything to happen to you," he breathes out heavily. "It's just that aspirin..." he trails off quietly. Sighing, he turns his head toward her and she's staring at him with moist eyes. "Nevermind. I'm overreacting."
"Tell me," she urges him quietly.
Shaking his head, he looks into her eyes and his chest tightens. He should be more open to her, more understanding. She needs his patience because she has nothing else. She's not the same woman, that's for sure. But in many ways she's more than she was. And she's never been pregnant. There are some things that she will still have to learn. She's not clueless, but he realizes she's still learning how to be pregnant and that's all it takes for him to answer her.
"When Kathy was pregnant with Kathleen, she took some aspirin and two hours later I was rushing her to the ER with abdominal pains. I was sure she was losing the baby. They said she had a bad reaction to the aspirin and that it can cause miscarriage, and placental abruption and...You... I just ... it scared me for a split second. That's all."
Swallowing, Olivia meets his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm fine now. It doesn't even hurt anymore," she lets out solemnly, turning her head away from to stare at the bedside lamp.
He lifts his arm and timidly places his open palm against the small of her back, rubbing half circles as he talks. "I'll get yours from under the bed." As he goes to kneel on the floor in front of her, he gives her a small smile first.
She watches as he lowers himself and before he gets all the way down, her voice follows him the rest of the way. "Thank you," she murmurs.
Before he reaches the floor, he sits back up on his knees directly in front of her, placing his hand right next to her thigh on the bed. "Don't worry about, Liv. I'll take care of you," he grins playfully, giving her knee a light squeeze.
He watches as her eyes raise to meet his slowly and sees the faintest hint of a smile permeate her sadness. "You don't have to..."
"I know."
He then fully kneels down in front of her and she scoots her legs to the side so that he is then able to lay all the way on his stomach. He grabs the bottle resting against the wall where the headboard is and easily sits back up on his knees.
Putting the bottle on the nightstand, he slowly turns his gaze back to the woman who he's just now realizing has held his heart in the palm of her hands for far longer than he'd like to admit.
With her hands perched on her thighs and her silk gown straps hanging low on her arms again, his pulse quickens and it's like the night before on repeat. He lets his eyes linger on the thin straps of material hanging loosely over the smooth, olive skin. She's breathing in through her nose and as he kneels in front of her, he can see the way her breasts rest against the rise of her abdomen.
He swallows. Hard.
The hard edges of her nipples protrude from underneath the silk as her chest rises and falls and it's then he knows that she's feeling it too. "Olivia," he warns without urgency and he doesn't take his eyes away from her body. He knows he's staring but he can't get himself to look away even after he hears her breath catch.
But he finally raises his focus to her eyes and he can see the emotion boiling up inside of her almost immediately; the want, the need as the pools of brown in her eyes darken a shade.
He can swear he can read what her body's telling him in the lines of her irises.
She's telling him it's okay for him to look but she's not used to it. That much is clear. He understands. He had gotten the same sense from her right before he went downstairs earlier.
He stares back at her for a few seconds before sitting on his legs in front of her. She looks dazed and he wants to understand her exact thoughts. Her reasoning, her feelings on what's going on between them, but he says nothing.
Slowly, he raises up on his knees and grasps the back of her neck from his position on the floor and brings her forehead to rest against his. He swallows hard feeling her breaths on his cheek. Inching his way closer to her, he stops when his waist makes contact with her knees.
Her eyes are closed but her hands slowly inch their way to his underarms, pulling at him. She's leading him towards her again and the way the heat radiates from her in the small distance between their bodies, mesmerizes him. He wants to reach for her again. She's so tiny when she wants to be yet so open for everyone to see when it's not her she wants the attention on. All her faults and emotions scale across her features, her body, her soul and he just knows. He knows that she's sees it too. In him.
He just wants to know all of her.
He hears her take a deep breath and as the air escapes her mouth, his mind whirs with adrenaline. He's off the floor in seconds and his body hovering over hers as she stares up at him with glossy, brown whirlpools of emotion. He watches her swallow at his proximity.
Her eyes close half mast and he knows. She's waiting for it. Waiting for him and he lets himself go.
In seconds, his lips are crashing over hers again. He grasps the sides of her head, clamping down on the hair surrounding her round face and running his thumb up her cheek bones. He captures her lips in his own and holds them. Holds her in place as he loves her with his mouth. In this moment, he's lost again. Lost within her.
And like she had last night, he falls forward, falls into her... for her.
. . .
He smells like sandalwood and spice. The hint of bath soap emanating off his skin as he presses her back against the springy bed causes her senses to heighten.
It's the first time she's noticed his smell. The way the lingering scent wraps around her and envelopes her like a blanket, reassures that he is in fact really here. He's there with her and he's touching her and kissing her. Again.
Her heart thumps in admiration of his size and build and the way his scent wafts through her nose as he lingers in front of her and cocoons her with his embrace. Leaning his head down, he catches her lips in quick pecks and softly captures her lips between his. He feels like granite, a solid support against her and she moans quietly into his warm mouth.
His right hand finds a home in the thick waves of her hair and his other one grips her left hip. She raises her hands to his shoulders as he lowers himself over her body. Her legs dangle off the side of the bed and his right leg finds a place in between. Her head rests on the comforter bunched in the middle and she's grateful she hadn't made the bed, because at this rate there's no reason to believe it'd still be in that state if this continues.
At least her neck will be supported if she loses control with him, which looks very possible as his hands casually, sensually roam her body.
She swallows hard as his hand moves from her waist, slowly skimming her side, then her ribcage and stopping beneath the mound of one pink silk covered breast. He runs his thumb gently along the underside of it, causing her nipples to peak. The soft material rubs across the hardened pebble and as she shifts underneath him, she wants to cry out from the sensation.
It's an easy burn. A subtle ache building from the tips of her toes all the way to her temples.
God, she wants him. She needs him.
Her body hums and he's gazing at her again with that look that makes her tremble. His eyes are dark as he leans his head down and kisses the clothed nipple and she feels like she's floating and the heat from his body is the proof she's floating closer to the sun. She moans loudly this time as he grasps it in between his lip, pulling on lightly through the material.
Her legs clench around hips and she wants to participate but it's not fair because the moment his body pressed against her, her mind went somewhere else. He's doing things to her right now that she couldn't even imagine before and the ability to comprehend her need to move with him ceases to exist.
Her mind is a fog and his body is all sensations. She feels every single place he touches her. His calloused palms skim her heated skin and send her heartbeat to parts of her body she'd like to relieve right about now. The roughness of his skin tingles and taunts her and reminds her that even her most vivid fantasies haven't felt this surreal.
His mouth moves from her lips and chin and down the column of her neck in languid strokes as he runs his tongue across the smooth expanse of skin beneath her ear lobe.
He shifts above her briefly before placing his arms above her shoulders as he presses her body into the mattress even further with his own, causing slight friction between their lower halves.
His erection brushes across the crease between her belly and upper thigh and he groans above her as she rests her now working hands on his hips. He lowers himself further down, his stomach pressing against hers slightly, his weight resting on his hands above her head.
As he hovers over her with his mouth leaving wet trails over skin, all she can feel is his lower body pressing into hers and suddenly a thought occurs to her.
"The baby," she pants out in arrousal.
He immediately lifts himself off of her slightly, leaving his arms in a perpendicular line from the rest of his slanted body.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No, it's just ...I didn't want you to accidentally crush her," she whispers into the thin air between them. "Just, here move over a little," she instructs as he moves from on top of Olivia to beside her on the bed.
Their legs hang off the side as they lay side by side. The heat of the moment on temporary hiatus.
"You know, Liv," he pants. "I realize this is new for you, all of it I mean. But, I just want you to know you can trust me, okay?"
Turning her head toward his, she nods. "I do trust you, Elliot. It's just... I need to trust me. I feel so clueless sometimes. Like I have no business doing this at all," she trails off solemnly.
She swallows and turns toward him, resting on her side slightly. The hand closest to his body uncurls and she uses it to skim over his chest until she reaches the column of his neck. She stops there and just looks at him.
Then the moment is over as reality starts to flood in.
"What are you going to do about home?" Her whispers, unsure as she scrapes her thumb across the soft cotton of his white tank.
He sighs deeply. Rubbing a hand down his face, he looks over to her, worrying his lips.
"I wanna stay," he breathes out timidly. "I don't want to go, Liv. I can go on leave, take a few months. I want you to know that I'll do what I can for you. If you want that.. I mean if you don't..." he trails off.
She lifts her hand immeditately and cups his cheek in her palm. He's an amazing man and she loves that he wants to stay with her. It makes her heart swell and her stomach churn in anticipation.
But it doesn't erase the fact he has other obstacles, other responsibilities.
"I would love that," she whispers. "But only if you really, truly can, Elliot. I mean... it's not the same. We're not partners. We live miles and miles away from each other now. I need to know you're doing this because you're sure. This is all so new for me. I don't want to do that to you. I don't want to take anything away from you."
He visibly relaxes against the bed and turns his head toward her. If she's not mistaken, she can see in his eyes that he's already sure of what he wants to do and it makes her breath catch.
How can a man who lived all those years as her partner, as a father to five beautiful children, who was good to his wife, who always looked at her as his equal and partner and best friend, do this? How can he simply change the course of his life by going out on a limb, hoping to find her again?
If finding her was all he came for, then how does he know how long he's going to feel this way toward her? The answer only flits through her mind briefly before she feels the bed shift underneath her as he moves his body closer to her.
He settles his head in the palm of his hand as he leans over her. Reaching his arm across her and planting his palm over her side, he pulls her closer to him and smiles.
She smiles back because what else can she do when looks at her like that? When he looks as if she's the only person in the world besides him. When he says nothing, he tells her all she needs to know with the intensity inside the darkened speckles of his blue eyes.
I love you.
Her breath hitches as she stares back at him not saying a word. Neither wanting to break the silence or the eye contact.
"I never thought this would happen. I never thought I'd come out here and see you and just ... fall," he breathes out. "I'm telling you, Olivia. I'm telling you that even before I came here, I would have done anything for you. And that right now, even more than before, I'll do anything for you and if it's helping you get through this, then I'll do it. I know I have responsibilities back home, I know I have things to take care of, I know I have family waiting for me back there but if they understand who I've become over the last few years, then they'll understand why I want to do this. Why I need to take some time off."
"What about you wife, Elliot?"
He visibly flinches and for few moments, silence sifts throughout the room and the wind blows that lone branch against the window pane. The small screeching noise reverberates through the room and he sighs.
"Olivia, I'm going to tell you something. And please don't make up your mind right away. Just hear me out," he pleads.
Immediately, she tenses up and looks up at the ceiling. "I don't want to know," she says deeply. Turning her head towards him anyway, she rests her hands on his stomach and sighs. Maybe she does. "How long?" Silence. "How long did it take for her to realize you weren't going to stop looking? And don't lie to me, I know you're a stubborn sonofabitch. Does she hate me?" Her voice trails off with a hint of emotion clogging the back of her throat.
He breathes deeply and she can tell he's trying to come up with a way to sugar coat what's been going on with him the past three years. But the thing is, he's never sugar coated anything with her in the past and she almost wishes he wouldn't right now. She guesses it's one of the things he's changed about himself.
Instead of throwing out all the demons of his world to her and anyone he felt deemed strong enough for them, he takes them and let's them seep out slowly so the pain of the words hurt less and heal faster.
She braces herself.
"She doesn't hate you, Olivia. She never has and never will. She may dislike our relationship but it was never you that she didn't like. I promise," he grates out and looks down at her. He reaches his palm out and runs it down the side of her face, brushing the loose waves away from her eyes.
She flinches at his touch. It burns in a different way this time.
One of the other things she realizes that's changed is his mannerisms. They are so strikingly familiar yet so much more than they had been. He touches. His touches linger and scold and hold and grasp like they never did in the past where he would restrain himself. Retreat and never let anything linger for too long.
His voice continues and she relaxes, letting her eyes close from the sensation of his palm against her skin.
"If anything," he stops and swipes his thumb over her cheekbone. "If anything, she doesn't like me. She doesn't like what I've become and it's my fault. I couldn't come to terms and just let it fester and build until everyone around me hated to be in the same room with me. If anything, Olivia she hates me," he breathes out and strokes her cheek. "She hates that I let myself care for another woman."
She swallows and clenches her eyes tightly together. "You were my best friend, Elliot. That couldn't be it. I would've done anything to help your family."
"I know, Liv. It's deeper than that. And that's why you can't take it the wrong way." He pauses and turns onto his back again staring at the ceiling with her. He rubs his hands up and down his weary face, scraping his palms across the rough stubble of his jaw. Sighing, he glances at her from the corner of his eye and takes that leap of faith. "She started hating what I was feeling a long time ago. Years ago. I think she realized it before I did and all I could do was deny, deny, deny, but it never did any good because look where I am now. It only wore us down, all of us."
Only their breathing can be heard as she shifts to her side, holding her belly and watching him, sensing there's more to this. "What, Elliot? You need to tell me," she whispers fearing what he's been trying to say. She has a feeling but hearing it out loud is only going make it final. Make it real. Reality.
"It's over. She told me it was over. During Lizzie's graduation party, she told me she lost the man she married and didn't know who she was staring at anymore. And you know what? It was hard to have my wife tell me that, and even though it was something I already knew, it still it hit me right in the gut. But, wanna know another thing? It didn't hurt like it should have, Olivia."
She purses her lips and glances at him. She swallows the lump in her throat and swipes her fingers underneath her eyes, silently realizing the moisture pooling there. Much like her, he had to leave something in order to find something more. But nothing had lasted and here they are, together.
"Why does she think that? What did she say?" she continues to urge him on, not knowing why. It really doesn't matter. She doesn't even really care if he answers.
"That I fell in love with my partner," he whispers without hesitation.
His voice is so soft and full of emotion and sincerity, it makes her lip tremble. She can't look at him and his focus is on the ceiling and his hands are clasped against his heart surely understanding why. She's sure hers has stopped.
It's one thing to wonder or speculate about something but it's another to have it spelled out in front of you and confirmed.
That I fell in love with my partner.
She rolls to her side facing away from him. She has no words. She has nothing to say to appease the emotions pouring through him. She wants to rejoice. She wants to feel relief. But lingering dread fascinates her senses instead.
She was foolish to think he'd be able to stay. He's going to have to leave because he'll never truly leave his family. He fell in love with her years ago yet here they sit. It's taken her to leave him completely behind for him to admit. She feels like a hypocrite but in the same breath she knows she would have never told him either.
As she mulls over his words, she feels him move behind her. Maybe just his touch will drown this feeling of dread, the way it did earlier when the internal struggle with mourning her lost future became too much to cope with.
It doesn't come though.
All she can think of as she watches his form walk through the door and out of her room is his words. They slice. They soothe, and they tear.
One more thing flits through her mind before she closes her eyes to the noon sun.
So did I.
. . .
tbc