Under Ryan's instructions, the house was left to be tidied in the morning. He had walked her upstairs and told her not to worry, things would work out. With a weary nod she had agreed and said goodnight. With a little effort, she slipped out of her dress and into her silk nightgown, allowing her duvet covers to engulf her as she buried herself under them. At one point she stretched her arm across for a warm body next to her to comfort her, but of course, there was no one.
The poolhouse was warm, and Ryan kept the door slightly ajar to allow the fresh air in. There had been no sign of Seth returning home, and it seemed that this time he would get away with it. Kirsten was too caught up with her own problems to notice an absent Seth for an evening. Flicking off the bedside light, he sprawled out on the bed with a heavy sigh. This was something he couldn't fix, and he didn't like that.
She couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, duvet cover off then back on, nothing seemed to work. She got out from the bed and wrapped herself in her gown, quietly padding downstairs and into the kitchen. She stood for a while gazing from the window, at nothing in particular. She didn't know what she wanted, and it seemed the window didn't hold any answers. The darkness of the poolhouse came into her line of vision and she found herself looking a little more intently at it. She could escape from things out there; it was separate from work, from husbands, and the Newpsies.
Creeping along the pool edge she slipped inside the pool house through the gap Ryan had left with the door open. He was sleeping peacefully, and she hesitated for a moment. What was she doing in here again? She shut her eyes and nodded. She was escaping. She often came out here, long before Ryan appeared, to relax and switch off from the world she lived in. And as she gently rolled herself under the covers, she glanced over at Ryan and reminded herself once more why she was here.
He never heard her come in, nor did he notice her slip under the covers. He was in a deep sleep, caught up in a dream. In his dream, he had confronted Sandy about what was going on at work. Sandy had made excuses, and eventually Ryan had snapped. He had shouted at Sandy, demanding the truth. And when the truth came out, he had punched him. Hard. Suddenly he found himself with Kirsten, having to break the news to her. She wept and clung to him for support; he stroked her hair and promised it would be ok, that he would never leave her; never let anyone hurt her again. He felt closer to her than ever before.
Still asleep, Ryan rolled over, his arm stretching out over the bed. But he was stirred by the object beneath his arm that wasn't there when he went to sleep. In a daze, he propped himself up and rubbed at his eyes as he muttered, "What the…" As his eyes began to focus and objects became clearer, the realisation of who was in the bed became clear. The slender figure, the blonde hair, the unmistakable expensive perfume. "…Kirsten?" Dream and reality had just collided.