Come Home
"Come home with me tonight." Sara whispered the words, and smiled as her companion gaped at her, his eyebrows arching upwards in astonishment. There was no mistaking her meaning. "You don't want to?"
He cleared his throat and squirmed. "Of course... of course I WANT to, but..." He trailed off, leaving her to fill in the blank.
"Then do it. I promise you won't regret it."
He studied her intently. "Are you sure about that, Sara? Because I'm not. When it comes to you I'm playing for keeps, and I don't think you even know that. I think you're offering me tonight a la carte, with everything going back to how it was tomorrow, and I'm afraid I can't give you that." He raked his hands through his hair, his expression agonized.
She grabbed his wrist. "I'm not looking for a one night stand. How could you think I would use you like that?" She pried open his hand, which had been clenched into a fist. "Please tell me you know I wouldn't do that."
He shrugged, still not looking at her. "I wouldn't think you'd just... nonchalantly invite me home with you after turning me down for dinner for, oh, five, six years now. I'm a little confused."
"You haven't asked for a long, long time. I'm sorry; I thought you wanted..." She let go of his hand and spun away. "Know what? Just forget it. Evidently I completetly misunderstood. I thought we were on the same page, and we obviously aren't. I have this , um, this habit of throwing myself at men who don't want me. Here I am doing it again."
His hand grabbed her arm before she could move away. "What page are you on?" He spoke softly.
"What?"
"You said we aren't on the same page. What page are you on?"
She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, then finally spoke. "Hopefully one that signals a beginning."
He smiled then and offered her his hand. "How do you feel about happy endings?" he asked as he pulled her into his arms. "Do you believe?"
"Maybe. Do you?"
"Yeah. I do. " He stroked her hair gently. "I live for them."