How did your visit with Tilly go? She doing well?
It was a simple question. Well, two related questions. Both could, when stripped down, be questions with very simple answers. Yet Florence wasn't really sure how to respond.
She hadn't gone to the hospital that morning, as she was supposed to have, just like she hadn't gone the previous week, the week that bird had shown up out of the blue announcing that he was a gift. Whenever she thought about getting dressed, getting into her car and driving to the hospital, navigating those hallways and avoiding eye contact with anyone, all her body wanted to do was sleep for a week. The idea that something could be happening to her daughter without her knowing made Florence so anxious she threw up nearly all her meals, but the thought of being there when something happened somehow seemed worse. She would break down again. She was barely holding it together as it was.
She is doing just fine.
She hoped that the lie by omission would be enough to fool the mechanic. After all, it was Toby who would be most likely to be in tune with something like that. With any luck, Happy would verbally relay the message to him, not show the text.
But they were off in Sacramento with their kids, making a short vacation out of Toby speaking at a conference. So he might even be the one to originally see the message.
She was too tired to think about how to reply if he questioned her.
Another text came through:
You home?
She tapped one of the suggested replies. Yes.
Then open the door. I've been knocking.
She felt like gravity was actively out to get her, preventing her from standing up, but eventually, Florence managed. She unlocked the deadbolt, twisted the knob, and gave it a half hearted push.
Walter opened the door the rest of the way. "I just came from the hospital."
"Why?"
"Was driving by. And I'd said I would check in on Tilly for you."
"Oh. Thank you?" She couldn't remember asking him to do that. But she must have. Florence squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping that would help clear her head. "Come in."
Walter smiled as he entered the living room. "How are you? Are you okay?"
Florence shrugged. "I don't know."
"Is there anything you need? Any way I can be there for you?"
"I don't know."
Walter nodded. "I understand."
"Glad you do. Because I sure as heck don't."
"I suppose this is the part where I apologize."
Florence shrugged, dropping back down on the couch.
"Where's your husband?"
"With your wife. They're…" she frowned. "They're pitching Scorpion for a job. I don't remember which."
"Right." Walter nodded. "I forgot that was today. It sort of runs together, huh?"
"Tell me about it."
"I'm no Toby," Walter said, "But It probably isn't good for you to be inside all the time. You should, I don't know. Get out. Go for a hike. Like we used to."
She cocked her head. "We've never done that."
"We haven't?" He stared at her. He looked so genuinely puzzled that it almost made Florence uncomfortable. Then he shook his head. "Huh. Okay. Well, still. Getting out. That can help. With…stuff. Sunshine and fresh air, you know."
Florence folded her arms. "You and I both hole up inside and work on things when we need distractions. Sunshine and fresh air? Why are you being weird?"
"Paige is rubbing off on me, I suppose," he said with a chuckle. "Though there is something to be said for the Vitamin D."
"I guess." Florence looked at her phone. Sylvester should be home in an hour or two. She wished she could turn time forward, like that dog in the Disney movie about all the puppies.
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Walter left. She realized several minutes after the door clicked behind him that he was the first person in weeks to wonder how she was, instead of just asking about Tilly.
Paige was delighted by three things.
Firstly, Tilly was doing well. She'd asked Walter how the baby was as soon as they sat down to dinner, when he'd mentioned that he'd been by the hospital. "She's far from out of the woods. But they don't have any complaints, according to the records I hacked."
Secondly, Amber had gone to the aquarium that day with Cabe and Allie while she and Sylvester were in their meetings, and the toddler had passed right out after their meal.
Which led to the third thing. Her and Walter alone in their bedroom.
"It's been a while since it's been this quiet around here," she commented, pulling her hair out of its ponytail.
Walter was laying under the top sheet. "My brain is rarely quiet," he said, "but the outside noise is much reduced, I can agree with you on that."
"Why don't I see if I can quiet your brain down?" Paige grinned as she straddled him, her hands running up through his hair and then sliding down to his neck as she put her lips on his. "God, it's been too long," she moaned at the feel of his hands on her hips. She moved her lips to his neck, her tongue dancing along the spots that she'd been a fan of ever since discovering them. She moved back to his lips, torn between wanting hours of foreplay and just wanting him inside her, now, making her eyes roll back in her head and jumbling her thoughts so she couldn't worry about anything even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. She just wanted her husband.
She undid the buttons on his shirt, sliding her hands over his chest. His hands were still on her hips. She pulled back slightly. "You okay, Walt?"
"Of course I'm okay," he said. "I'm with you."
She frowned. "You just seem a little…" she made a motion up above their heads. "When you're usually…" she gestured back and forth between them.
"No. No, not at all. I'm right here." He flexed his fingers. "I'm just a little dizzy."
"Not in the good way, I'm assuming. Did you forget to eat today?"
"No. I ate." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm here. What would you like?"
"Are you offering me some kind of sex menu?"
"If that's what you'd like?"
Paige groaned, swinging her leg back over so she was kneeling on the bed next to him. "I'm not interested if you're not into it."
"No, no, I am." He pulled his boxers tighter around him. "See?"
"You and I both know that a body responding to stimuli doesn't mean the person is into something," Paige said. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid."
"I'm not treating you like you're stupid."
"It sounds like you are."
"Me saying I'm not doing something sounds like I actually am?"
"Okay. Fine. But be honest. Don't do this it's all good crap. Just admit you don't want to have sex with me."
"Well, I don't really want to now." He said. "Why are you taking this personally?"
She sighed. "Fine. I shouldn't." It's just been a while. Why don't you want me? She didn't say either of those things out loud. They were a guilt trip. They weren't fair. But she still felt them.
"It's been a long few weeks," Walter said. "I'm tired. A lot is on my mind. That's all."
This used to be how we got what was bothering us out of our heads. "Okay."
"But if you need…I'm not saying no, Paige."
"I don't want to use you like that."
"I'm consenting."
"It's not the same."
She meant that it wasn't the same feeling to sleep with him when she knew he wasn't as ravenous for her as she was for him. But as she lay on top of the covers, listening as his breathing slowly shifted into the lazy rhythm it held when he slept, she realized she felt that way about more than just sex.
