(BTW, again, there are references to "Ice" in this one. If you haven't read it, do so.)
I looked at your and suddenly something in your eyes I see,
Soon begins bewitching me.
It's that old devil moon that you stole from the sky,
It's that old devil moon in your eyes. (Old Devil Moon James Cullum)
Luka opened his eyes. He lay in a tangle of sheets, alone in the bed. Sunshine coming through the window at a steep angle told him he'd slept quite late. 10:18, according to the clock.
A smile crossed his face, then faded again, as he remembered last night. Pleasure and pain. Joy and uncertainty.
He hadn't known what to think. For three nights Abby had slept in his bed, never touching him, never even near him. She didn't want sex. She didn't want a relationship. She'd made that quite clear from the start. He didn't quite understand why she insisted on sharing his bed, but if it made her feel better to sleep there, he was happy to have her there. He wanted her to be happy.
Of course she hadn't wanted sex. Her last experience with sex had been violence ... brutality. Rape. It would take her time to get past that. And the last time they had had sex had been a nightmare in a different way. Too much alcohol, a few moments of passion, then the blame ... the anger ... the silence. They'd gotten past that, but it hadn't been easy.
Of course she didn't want a relationship either, at least not with him. She'd just finished a relationship; she wasn't going to want to rush into another, especially one that had already failed. Why should she ever want to return to him ... to more heartache? He wouldn't rush her, wouldn't push her into anything. If, someday she wanted him again, he'd be there, but he wasn't going to hold his breath. He'd had enough heartache too.
But last night he had found her, somehow, in his arms. How she'd gotten there was hazy, one more thing he couldn't quite remember. He'd wakened from sleep to find her hair brushing against his face as she'd kissed him ... or he'd kissed her; the taste of her toothpaste on his lips, the scent of her overwhelming him. Choking him, arousing him, awakening him. Awakening memories. He remembered saying her name, barely able to get it out past the lump in his throat. And then they were holding each other. Touching each other. Needing each other. Needing something that Luka couldn't quite understand, something more than sex, different than sex. It hadn't been sex. It hadn't been love-making. It had been something else.
He still hadn't known what to think, so he hadn't thought at all.
It had been ... strange. Moments of hesitancy, of nervousness … almost shyness ... of pain, physical and emotional; and then moments of passion so overwhelming that he could scarcely breathe. He'd made love with Abby dozens of times before, and it had never been like that. Not with Abby, and certainly not with the countless nameless women he'd slept with over the past few months.
No, the only time he could remember feeling like that, even a little bit, had been with Danijela ... on their wedding night. Both eager, both wanting each other, but not sure quite what to expect. He'd been a little afraid that night, of his own feelings, and of hurting her. 'Don't expect too much. From yourself or from her,' Tata had told him. He'd never actually told Tata that they were waiting ... but he'd known somehow. Tata knew him too well, and knew Dani too. 'Just be slow and gentle. It will get better.' But it hadn't. Oh, later nights had been more confident, more skillful, but none were better. Nothing could be better than two bodies opening to each other, to match two hearts that were already open. Two souls that were already joined. Love taking them places they didn't really understand, but didn't have to understand. They were together, and, at that moment, nothing else mattered.
But still, that had been Danijela. This was Abby. Two very different situations. And two very different women. As different as day and night. Dani had been daylight, sunshine - the light of his life. They'd understood each other perfectly, known each other perfectly. No secrets, no shadows. Abby was nighttime. Beautiful where the moonlight touched her, but mysterious. Full of dark corners and shadows. Hidden obstacles just waiting to trip him up if he didn't watch his step, if he moved too fast.
Last night had been perfect in its own way, but now it was morning. Would this morning be a replay of the last time? Would the next step be denial? Regret? Anger?
Abby had gotten up long before. He could hear nothing from the other room. Perhaps she'd left. Perhaps she couldn't face him in the light of day. But no, her suitcase was still here. She hadn't moved out, but maybe she'd gone to store, or to work.
Well ... he'd have to face her, or not, eventually. Slowly he got out of bed and found his clothes. A deep breath, and he opened the bedroom door.
Abby was sitting on the couch, in her pajamas eating her breakfast and reading the paper. She looked ... rumpled ... in a pleasantly morning-after sort of way. Luka couldn't help smiling again. A smile that she returned. Was it genuine? Luka wasn't sure.
"I was wondering when you were going to get up. There's coffee if you want it."
Luka shuffled to the stove. He was still more than a bit shaky. "How long have you been up?"
"About an hour." She jumped up and headed for the kitchen. "Sit down. I'll get you some breakfast."
"I can do it," Luka protested. He'd already poured the coffee. He was still weak, but he could make his own breakfast.
"No. That's what I'm here for, remember?"
Of course. She was back to being his nurse, his helper. His friend. Luka sipped his coffee and watched Abby bustle around his kitchen, making toast and pouring cereal for him. She chatted about something from the paper, but Luka wasn't really listening. All that mattered was that she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Was she going to forget it? Pretend it hadn't happened? Maybe this was better than bitterness and accusations, but maybe not.
"Abby," Luka interrupted firmly. "Last night ..." Then he wasn't sure what to say. Maybe Abby wasn't talking about it because there was nothing to say. He saw a flicker of something ... worry, perhaps, in her eyes, then she turned her back and continued working on his breakfast. She didn't say anything.
It hadn't been good for her. He hadn't satisfied her, he remembered that now. He hadn't been gentle enough, patient enough. And when he was done he'd fallen asleep. So she wouldn't want to talk about it. She was disappointed of course. She'd expected more of him ... he expected more. For all his failings, for all their problems together, this was one thing he could always do, one area where they could always connect. Maybe it was best to forget it. As long as she wasn't angry, maybe that was the best he could hope for.
But no. They had to talk about it. At least make sure she was ok. Had she really wanted it, or had he dreamed that part? A deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush you ... or push you." And, at the same moment, Abby blurted out, "It was probably too soon for you, Luka. I'm sorry." And both laughed, a bit nervously.
"You did wear me out," Luka admitted, smiling into his coffee. "I guess that's why I slept so late this morning. But it was ... ok ... for you?"
"It was fine," Abby said, then laughed again and shook her head. "No. It was wonderful. It was exactly what I needed." She put his breakfast in front of him and sat down across the table.
"That's good ... I'm glad. I wasn't sure what you wanted." Luka kept his eyes on the plate, couldn't lose the nervous smile, stumbled over his words. "I know we've talked about this so many times, and you always said ... you never ..."
"I was wrong before." Abby's response was quick and firm. "I don't know how I could have been so wrong, for so long."
Luka looked up quickly, just in time to see Abby look away again. The certainty of her words betrayed by her body language. Luka knew that he was a person who wore his heart on his sleeve. But Abby was so hard to read. He wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to hold on to her words. If he said anything, she might say something he didn't want to hear. Might break the spell.
"But what do you want?" Abby finally said, when the silence had stretched on too long.
The question caught him by surprise. How could she ask that? How could she not know? But, of course she was asking. His personal life these past few months had been no secret around the hospital. And these past few weeks he'd been trying to so hard to not push her, not pressure her, that he'd been pushing her away. Did she think she was just another one night stand? A reasonable assumption, all things considered.
"I want ..." God ... what did he want? "I want whatever makes you happy, Abby. I just want you to be happy."
"Coward." A quick smile, which sparkled in her eyes. She was so beautiful when she smiled.
And the words came in a flood. "I want you. I've wanted you, I've been waiting for you for so long. I don't want to rush into anything, I know ... it won't be easy for us ... but I want to try again."
"I think we already are," Abby said softly. "We have been for a few weeks. Even if we didn't quite know it." And she leaned across the table and kissed him again. A kiss that, in the light of day, tasted of strawberry jam.