"'I love you' is all that you can't say.
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily,
Like 'I love you,' 'I love you.'
But you can say, 'Baby,
Baby can I hold you tonight?'
Maybe if I told you the right words at the right time,
You'd be mine."
~Tracy Chapman, "Baby Can I Hold You"

January 1995

If she had just said it, when she had the chance, things would have been completely different.

If she said it, she would have stayed the night in Grace's apartment when she dropped her off after Vermont (maybe). She would have seen her smile (maybe). She would have said that everything would be okay, after Grace expressed her fear of the unknown. They would have been brilliant. They would have.

But she didn't say it. She lost the chance, numerous times. And now she's down at Rockefeller Center, watching above as tourists and families skate on the rink below, freezing and regretting the fact that she didn't speak up.

She needed to be out, anywhere. Fresh, cold air, walking the streets of Manhattan, winding up in one of the most populated places in Midtown for a distraction, but it wasn't working. Karen tried to clear her mind, but she couldn't. All she could think of was how she shouldn't have walked away. She shouldn't have left Grace there all alone. And part of the reason she cut herself off was because she was so embarrassed that she let her down. The other part was the fact that it still hurt.

She was in love with Grace, she knew that now. But there was no way of ever letting Grace in on the fact.

Things can change in an instant. It's all Karen had ever known. There was the obvious one: the chance encounter with Grace at a dive bar she normally wouldn't have gone into. There was the one that kept coming back to the forefront: Delia's change of heart and swift exit. And then there was the one she didn't like to talk about, the one Grace wasn't aware of, the very first one: her father's death. She was only seven years old when it happened, but she grew up the moment her mother sat her down to tell her that Daddy wasn't coming home.

She grew up young. So why is she acting like a child now?

There was a happiness on the ice of Rockefeller Center that Karen just couldn't touch. Something in the air that got filtered out right before it reached her. She wondered if Grace had ever taken a few laps around the rink before. If Danny had ever been spontaneous and brought her here for a romantic afternoon. But as soon as she started picturing the two of them together, a hard jealousy formed in the pit of her stomach, mixed with guilt, and she knew that whatever peace she was trying to find wasn't going to be here. Hailing a cab, she made her way back to the home she shared with Stan, all along with the notion that she wanted to make things right again, as right as they could be in a situation that was morally wrong to begin with.

Karen needed to see her. Soon.

When she got back to her building, the doorman stopped her with a box in his hands. "Ms. Delaney?" he called out. When she first moved in, he had mistakenly called her "Mrs. Walker," as if they were already married, as if she had already given up. She had corrected him immediately with a slight cringe; the name never sounded right on her. She turned around to face him now, focusing on the package. "A redheaded woman stopped by, wanted me to give this to you."

Grace was here?

She took the box from his grip—a small little thing with purple ribbon tied around it—and gave him a soft "Thank you" before opening it. The ribbon rustled between her fingers as she untied it. Lifting the box, she let a little laugh of surprise slip from her lips.

Inside the box were three cigarettes, to help ease the situation at hand. Underneath those, a note in Grace's handwriting: Forgive me? Come by tonight if you want.

Underneath the note was the key to Grace's apartment, a sign that the third wall was crumbling to the ground.

Even when you're not around, you make me nervous. Even now, in the comfort of my home, my senses are heightened and I'm on edge, because of the mere possibility that you could walk through my door at any minute. And it's not because you scare me, because I don't think you do anymore. It's because I scare myself, knowing that despite my best efforts, I could let everything slip and ruin it in an instant. That is, if it hasn't already been ruined by Danny's untimely entrance at the coffeehouse.

Scribbling a line out, rewriting it. Killing time. It was pointless. She wouldn't show up. Of course she wouldn't. This mistake was too big to overlook. This mistake would be the fatal one. Even with the peace offering, this mistake would be the fatal one.

The clock on the wall of the living room let Grace know that it was two in the morning, and everyone else was probably in bed waiting for the promise of a new day. But she wasn't like everyone else; she was sprawled out on the couch, waiting for the forgiveness of a woman she didn't deserve. She had picked up a notebook lying on her coffee table and opened it to a blank page, started writing a letter to Karen. Even if it never made it to her eyes, at least she could get everything out. Maybe then she wouldn't feel this weight on her chest.

If I had told you in Vermont when I first wanted to, when I woke up to find your beauty hovering over me and I smiled almost letting it out in a spurt of spontaneity, I might have been safe. We were by ourselves, we didn't have the troubles of the city looming over us. We didn't have the grave possibility that someone could walk in and take it all away. If I had told you then, you might have given it to me as well, and we would be in a completely different place than we are now. I was stupid; I thought that I wouldn't be safe in telling you in Vermont because of the rules we set in Manhattan. Now I realize that we were playing by a different set of rules in the cabin. But it's too late; we're no longer safe. We had to leave after a week, and we both saw what happened after that.

Maybe my words are completely unnecessary. I wouldn't blame you if you thought they were. I always find myself skirting around the issue, and never attacking it head on, especially when it comes to you. But I'm sick of being nervous and I'm sick of being on edge. And I think if I tell you what I've been wanting to tell you for at least a week, we can finally reach that new level that I know we're both curious about.

Either way, I think it's obvious. I…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key being turned in the lock on her front door. God. Even when she isn't speaking, she can never get out the fact that she's in love with Karen. In an instant, she realized that Danny could be on the other side of the door—she knew now that giving her key to two people might not have been the best idea—and she closed up the notebook and shoved it in between the couch cushions. Bracing herself, she looked to the front door, holding her breath as she watched it open.

"You know, I'd forgive you in a heartbeat if you actually did something wrong." Karen was standing in the doorway with the box Grace had left with the doorman this afternoon. "But it wasn't your fault. Not in the least."

"I didn't think you were going to show up," Grace said quietly as Karen made her way over to the couch and took a seat beside Grace. The notebook was nestled in the cushions beneath them, and she wondered if Karen would be able to feel them, so she wouldn't have to say them.

"I was going to be here no matter how long it took for me to get here. One of Stan's colleagues threw a party and we had to make an appearance. Otherwise I would have been here a lot earlier. I hope you didn't stay up waiting for me. I know it's late."

Silence.

"You know that's not how I feel about you," Grace suddenly said, referring back to her remark in the coffeehouse, that she and Karen were merely friends.

"I know. And I knew that when you said it. I knew that you were only trying to make him a little less angry. But something inside me took it harder than I wanted to. If anything, I should be asking you to forgive me. For more than this. I've done nothing but hurt you the entire time I've known you, even if you can't see it. And you still want to see me. I think it's crazy, but I love it." Karen offered her a smile after she said it, meek, a little guilty.

All Grace could do was shake her head, wrap her arms around Karen and kiss her cheek gently. "You need to start believing that you're not hurting me. You're not Delia. You never will be Delia. You know what she did, so you know what not to do. This isn't history being repeated. You should trust me."

Karen looked into her eyes. They were filled with all the trust in the world, and it was all for her. "I think I am." She watched Grace's smile grow wider as she brushed the red locks away from her face. "What do you want to do now?"

Grace bit her lower lip for a moment before she spoke. "Can I hold you tonight?"

Karen smiled as Grace wrapped her arms around her. They sat in silence as Grace kissed the crown of Karen's head and Karen listened to the beating lullaby of Grace's heart. This is how it was meant to be, Karen thought. This is how it always should be, not only for the two of them, but for everyone. Everyone deserved something like this.

It was the last thing she thought as they drifted off to sleep together on the couch.