Sun poured through the window.
Too bright!
Too early!
Note to self. Must replace curtains before next Christmas.
Bridget rolled over to try and block out the sun that was hitting her directly in the face and disturbing her usual Saturday morning sleep in…or sleep all day. As she buried her face under the pillow however, she caught an unfamiliar scent.
Clean sheets? Bridget thought to herself, recognising the unfamiliar scent as being that of fresh starched linen. Clean sheets were not common place in her apartment.
As her brain began to register with her senses, she started to realise that there were other things out of place. She was still wearing the clothes from last night for one thing, but she also could not remember going home after the book launch.
That's when it all came flooding back to her.
MARC!
The whole taking Marc home, dumping Daniel after the book launch, taking care of Marc, and finally…the staying the night.
Bridget slowly turned her head in the direction of where she expected to find said person, only to find she was in bed alone.
Had she imagined the whole thing?
Was I that drunk?
Bridget slowly sat up, making sure not to jostle too much in case she was hungover, but no wave of nausea and instant headache came like it usually did after a big night out.
She slowly extracted herself from the very deliciously clean sheets and went in search of the man of her thoughts. She didn't get too far when she heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
Memories of the night before suddenly came, not unwelcome, of a very naked Marc Darcy lying on the bathroom floor.
Stupid Bridget!
Stupid inner goddess!
Bridget chastised herself and shook her head to rid her mind of such thoughts.
Marc Darcy would never have such thoughts if it had been me in that position.
Bridget slowly walked to the bathroom door and placed her ear up against it, just listening to make sure all sounded as it should. She could here slight shuffling and the normal sounds of someone having a shower, so she was satisfied that she would not have to nearly break down the door this time.
Feeling comforted in this knowledge, Bridget went back to the bed and began to tidy up. She made the bed and packed up her belongings on the bedside table. She was just on her way to take last nights dishes down to the kitchen when she heard the bathroom door open.
Bridget stopped just before the bedroom door, tray in hand, with a bewildered look on her face. She was now unsure if she should have hung around, or whether she should have left before he came back into the bedroom. But she needn't have been worried, for the look on his face gave her the answer almost immediately.
Marc Darcy, clad only in a towel around his waist, stood in the doorway of the bathroom with the biggest smile she had ever seen coming from him plastered across his face.
He slowly walked across the room towards his wardrobe. He was the first to speak.
"Good morning Miss Jones. How did you sleep?"
He sounded so cool, so unlike his usual self whenever they saw each other. But she wasn't going to question it.
"Ummm, very well thank you." She said plainly. Unsure of how else to say how marvellously she had slept in his bed without sounding too desperate.
Marc began to pull clothes out of his wardrobe and placing them on his bed. Bridget suddenly felt self-conscious and very aware that she had been starring, so she made a move to leave to finish what she had been doing before he had come out of the bathroom.
Marc however took her awkwardness to be because of him, so he started to apologise for what he thought was making her uneasy.
"Bridget." He said. Ultimately stopping her at the bedroom door once more.
"I ahhh…I'm sorry for last night." Marc stammered out awkwardly. "I know that it was not very dignified of me looking the way I did last night. And I know that it could not have been very fun or attractive on your part." He had never had to apologise to anyone for having to see him in such a state, as he had never had anyone in his life to take care of him in such an intimate way before.
Except for my Mother, but that couldn't have been after the age of about 12. He thought to himself.
Bridget stood there with a confused look on her face.
Is he really apologising for being sick right now?
She must have stayed silent for too long after he had spoken, because Marc started to shift from one foot to the other and was looking around the room as though searching for something to fix his gaze upon so as not to have to look directly at her.
"Marc." Bridget said to get his attention back on her. "Are you honestly apologising for being sick?" She asked with a snicker.
After hearing her giggle Marc relaxed a little, as he knew that it wasn't his actions last night that were making her feel awkward.
"Well yes…I guess I am." He smiled his wide smile once again.
"Maybe if it had been self-inflicted with an over consumption of alcohol, I would not be so amused right now, but the state that you were in I would say that was definitely not the case. So therefore, let me assure you Marc Darcy that you do not have anything to be sorry for." Bridget reassured him, giving him her own face splitting smile.
They stood there just staring and smiling at one another, before Bridget looked down shyly, breaking their eye contact.
Marc continued to smile at her.
She's so beautiful. He thought to himself.
Bridget was about to try and leave the room once more when she thought to ask Marc "How are you feeling this morning by the way?"
Marc's expression changed to pensive as he answered "Still slightly woozy, but much better, thank you."
Bridget merely nodded.
"I should leave you to get dressed." She looked at him shyly before she walked out of the room and carried the tray of dishes down the stairs to the kitchen. She kept her focus on making it to the sink safely, as she knew if she dwelt on the interaction that just took place, she would become distracted and there would surely be a lot broken dishes to clean up.
Placing the dishes in the sink, she began to fill it with hot water and dish soap, with the intention of fully cleaning up.
Cannot have Marc Perfect Darcy thinking am complete slob.
Just as Bridget was about to dip her hands into the water, the doorbell rang. She stood listening for a few moments but did not hear any footsteps make their way down the stairs.
Thinking Marc must have gone back into the bathroom she decided that it was politer to answer the door than not. She slowly made her way to the front door, hoping that in the meantime Marc would make it down the stairs before she had to answer the door to what ever complete stranger was on the other side, but he never came down.
The doorbell sounded a second time, a little more agitated than the first, before she was able to open the door.
Right oh. Right oh. Give a person a minute.
Bridget put on a friendly smile as she opened the door. This quickly faded however when she saw who was on the other side.
Natasha!
Needless to say, that Natasha's face dropped at the same time at seeing Bridget standing in front of her.
"Bridget!" Natasha said, a little less dignified than she normally would speak in front of her, but she recovered her normal snooty persona very quickly. "I wasn't expecting to see you again…so soon."
The pause in her sentence did not go unnoticed by Bridget, but she ignored it.
You are a sophisticated woman Bridget Jones. Do not let snooty, skinny, prickly Natasha think otherwise.
Bridget went to explain her presence, but Natasha welcomed her own way into Marc's apartment before she could say a word.
"Is Marc awake? We have lunch plans with the Grants today and we simply must be leaving soon, otherwise we will be late. And we cannot be the couple who comes in late to a social event."
Natasha spoke so sharply that Bridget wasn't sure that Natasha even took a breath the entire time. Also, the way she spoke about Marc as more like a pet than her partner irritated Bridget.
If Marc was my boyfriend I would…
But Bridget stopped this train of thought before it even really started, for she knew exactly what she would do to Marc Darcy…in all manner of sordid ways.
Bridget must have been silent for too long, because when she looked back at Natasha again, she had an irritated sour look on her face.
"Well? Is he up and dressed or not?!" Natasha said sharply.
"Ummm yes, but I'm not sure he is up for…" Bridget tried to say, but was quickly cut off by Natasha once again.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Marc would never leave me on my own to look the fool. Sick or not, he simply must be by my side and socialise with my friends." Natasha brushed off what ever Bridget was about to say. She began to head towards the staircase.
She hasn't even asked how he is feeling this morning.
Bridget was about to say so when Natasha suddenly stopped and turned towards her once more.
"Why are you even here Bridget?" She said bitterly. "Marc wouldn't have let you stay if he was of sound mind last night."
What is she accusing me of?
Bridget was about to come out with a tart remark about someone needing to take care of him, but there was suddenly a voice coming from the top of the stairs in her place.
"Bridget stayed because I asked her to." Marc said matter of fact.
Natasha just stared up at him as though she were a mouse caught in a trap.
"Marc!" Natasha said, shocked by his sudden presence. She had obviously not expected him to hear what she had been saying to Bridget. She quickly gathered her surprise and said "Oh good, you are awake. Quickly go and get changed. If you hurry, we won't be hideously late and scorned by the other guests" Natasha said with a wave of her hand as though this were final and he had no say.
"I won't be attending the lunch with you today Natasha" Marc said boldly.
Bridget remained standing by the front door watching on as the scenario played out in front of her.
I should leave. She thought to herself. But she had no coat, so going out the front door into the cold was out of the question, and retreating into another room would involve walking between them, and right now she was going unnoticed, so she decided to keep it that way and stay where she was.
"Marc don't be silly. Of course you are coming with me. I will not be left to look the fool" she said in a dismissive tone. "It is bad enough that you left the party early last night and people were talking. Now go and get dressed so we can leave." She then looked over her shoulder at Bridget and said "And so Miss Jones, you are free to leave whenever you see fit" she said in a sickly-sweet fake tone and gave her a menacing grin that only she could see.
Bridget just glared back at her. But she knew she had no reason to stay.
As much as I want to.
"No." Marc said flatly.
Natasha whipped her head back in Marc's direction at his response, obviously not expecting to hear him say that…EVER.
Marc was now making his way down the stairs toward Natasha.
"But Marc…" Natasha started to say. But Marc cut her off before she could finish.
"Natasha please. After last night I have woken up to your true colours and your true intentions for being with me. And if you think that I will continue to let you use me as your meal ticket into every high standing social circle, then you are mistaken." Marc said calmly, but directly. "I won't be joining you today…or from now on." He tried to be gentle in the way he said his last sentence, but none the less, Natasha saw red.
"It's because of her, isn't it!" Natasha yelled as she pointed an accusatory finger in Bridget's direction.
Bridget could have expired there and then with the way Natasha was looking at her.
If looks could kill. Oh, fuck I'm in trouble.
But Marc jumped to her rescue before Natasha's daggers could do any real harm.
"Bridget has nothing to do with this. But if you must drag her into it then I must say that she had more sense and intuition of what I needed last night than you did" Marc said in a calm but accusatory tone.
"Please Marc! We both know that the only reason she would be in your apartment is because she seduced you last night, because you were weakened and vulnerable in your state" Natasha said, suggesting that Marc wouldn't have let a woman like Bridget knock on his door let alone come into his apartment unless he was intoxicated and did not have his normal wits about him.
This was the last straw for both Marc and Bridget.
Bridget opened the front door at this point and rushed out into the cold. She could not stand to hear what else Natasha had to say.
I am not a bad person…chubby and simple, yes…but not bad in the ways snooty rich bitch Natasha thinks.
Bridget continued to walk down the sheet with her arms wrapped around herself to try and keep out the cold from the snow falling around her. She continued to think about what Natasha had said and then realised that she had not stayed long enough to hear Marc's response.
What if he agrees?
What if he realised his mistake and was about to say "Bridget Jones you get out of my house this instant. You do not belong here with your fat bottom, and your terrible introduction skills, and all the stupid things you say. Please leave."
That's it! Bridget had decided that that was going to be Marc Darcy's response, and that she could never face him or return to his apartment again.
Cell phone, belongings and house keys be damned. She thought to herself as she thought about her things still sitting on Marc's bedside table, and tried to remember how high the fire escape stairs were on her building, as this would be her only hope of getting in this early on a Saturday morning.
Meanwhile, Marc stood staring at Natasha with such fury that for the first time he saw the tiniest bit of defeat in her eyes.
"Natasha, who the hell do you think you are saying such things?! The fact that you are wrong on all accounts on what happened here last night just infuriates me even more. If you truly wanted to be with me then you would trust that I would never do that to someone that I was in a relationship with." As Marc said all of this, he realised that although he was speaking the truth, her words hadn't hurt him as much as they would have if he had any feelings for Natasha.
"If Bridget hadn't stepped in last night I would probably be in hospital by now. All she did was took care of me, and was ready to leave when I asked her to stay. If you had been the person you should have been towards me last night then you may have been the one I was waking up to this morning. But as it is, that will never happen."
They both stood staring at one another for a few moments. Marc holding back his rage, while Natasha opened and closed her mouth, shocked at what Marc was telling her.
"But Marc, you must understand. Last night was just too good an opportunity..." Natasha started to say before Marc cut her off.
"It's over Natasha." Marc said flatly, while looking down with some remorse. "You can tell everyone it was my fault and that you broke it off. I know you have a reputation to uphold." Marc scoffed slightly.
Natasha squared her shoulders ready to make one last threat, in order to drag Marc along for the sake of her connections. But Marc was too intuitive of her games and cut in.
"And if you have any intention of bringing Bridget into this to hurt her just to get at me, so help me God Natasha, you will need to move continents to keep your reputation intact."
And with that, Marc strode past Natasha and opened the front door. An indication that everything was over and that she needed to leave.
Natasha turned sharply on her heel and walked towards the door. She stopped just before walking across the threshold and gave Marc a piercing stare, and left without another word.
As Marc closed the door behind her and leant back against it he let out a long sigh of relief.
It's done! He thought to himself. He thought about all the time he had wasted allowing Natasha to push him around and force him towards a future that he could not see himself in. For the first time in a long time he was free to decide what he wanted to do, and where his life was to head, without consequence to anyone else.
But as he thought about what he truly wanted, he realised that there was one person of consequence…one person who he wanted to be of consequence to him.
"Bridget!" He said out loud. Suddenly realising that she was no longer there, and not knowing where she had gone. He knew he had to look for her, if only to apologise for Natasha's behaviour.
Marc quickly jumped into action and before he knew it he was running through the streets of London looking for one woman in a million. Every so often he would have to stop for the waves of nausea that were still making an appearance from the night before. He had no idea where he was actually headed. He just knew that he was chasing after his dream.
After about an hour of flailing around the streets getting nowhere, Marc decided he needed to go home and actually come up with a plan of narrowing down where Bridget could have gone with no money and no coat.
Bridget had only made it about three blocks from Marc's apartment before she decided that she really wouldn't make it up the fire escape and in through the window to her apartment. And so she turned around and headed back towards Marc's place to get her belongings. She began to shiver even more as she got closer, but it had nothing to do with the cold snap of the wind.
What if SHE is still there?
What if Marc realised he had made a mistake by yelling at her and now they were busy in the bedroom having vigorous rabbit like sex?
What if Natasha answers the door in one of Marc's shirts, with her skinny legs and her perfect proportioned bottom?
Bridget slowed her walk and reconsidered the fire escape escapade scenario again. But all manner of failed endings involving trash cans and flashing big bottoms ran through her mind.
Stop being stupid Bridget.
You are an adult, who has a job and an apartment…not so clean…BUT IT IS YOURS. She nodded to herself to buck herself up.
Bridget marched around the final corner feeling almost pleased with herself, and knocked on Marc's front door with a vigorous rap. She stood shifting restlessly from one foot to the other trying to keep her elevated mood going.
One minute…two minutes…three. And still no answer.
Bridget frowned and tried again, her self-pep talk beginning to wane, and previous thoughts of rabbit sex began to return.
Bridget still received no answer after another five minutes. She stood there deflated on the front steps of Marc's apartment, not sure exactly what to do next.
Here we are again Bridget.
Left to be the fool.
Spinsterhood is beginning to sound very appealing.
Bridget was about to walk back down the steps when she heard a deep familiar voice.
"Bridget?" Marc said from the bottom of the stairs, surprised to see her standing there.
Bridget immediately looked up into his broad, brooding, sexy face. She was just as shocked to see him as he was to see her.
"Marc! What are you doing here?" She asked.
"Well, for one…I live here." Marc said with a small snicker.
Stupid Bridget. She thought to herself as soon as the question was out of her mouth. Of course he would be here.
Bridget shook her head and said, "What I meant was, what are you doing outside? Shouldn't you be having…" unadulterated, carnal, no holding back, animalistic fucking "…Isn't Natasha inside waiting for you. Shouldn't you be getting ready for your lunch?" She asked instead.
Marc had slowly walked up the steps towards her, stopping on everyone for a fraction of a second as she spoke. His eyes never left hers as he approached her, as though trying to calm a scared and cornered animal.
When he made it to the top step he stood close enough that Bridget could smell his expensive body wash that he had used in the shower this morning. It was almost hedonistic. So much so that all she could do was stare back at him with her mouth hanging open slightly.
Close your mouth dear. Her Mother's voice echoed in her head.
"No I'm not going to lunch with Natasha today…or any other day for that matter." Marc answered with a dreamy look on his face.
"Oh." Was all Bridget could manage, as she stood staring up at him with the same look on her face.
They both stood just staring, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. But Bridget still wasn't wearing a coat, and the snow had gotten slightly heavier, so the sudden shiver that ran through her was visible to Marc. This broke the trance and Marc looked down and suddenly realised Bridget's lack of appropriate dress.
He didn't even think about his next actions before he had done it. Marc immediately wrapped the front of his coat around Bridget and pulled her close to his chest, holding the ends of his coat securely around her back to cover her. He then used a free hand to open the front door and pull her inside with him. Not a single word spoken between them.
Once they had made their way awkwardly inside, and the front door was managed to be closed, Marc remained with Bridget pressed against his chest inside his coat in the front foyer, unwilling to let go.
Bridget could feel the heat radiating off of Marc's chest, warming her from the inside out. She hadn't expected him to do such a thing, and especially didn't expect to still be wrapped in his arms once they had entered the apartment again. She knew that she should make a move to extricate herself from his grasp, but the combination of his body heat and the divine smell of his body wash were making it very difficult for her to do so.
You are playing with fire. Her head was saying.
Just relax Bridget. There is no harm in having your turn with him. Her inner Goddess was trying to overrule her logic.
In the end it was Marc's stomach that overruled them all, after it gave a loud rumble, ultimately breaking the spell they had created between them.
Marc looked down with an indignant and apologetic look on his face. While Bridget looked up at him trying to hold back a full bout of laughter.
So he is human…
"Well…" Marc started, trying to find something to say to lessen his embarrassment. "I guess that's one way to invite you to stay for breakfast." He said as he drew his coat back and released Bridget from his grasp. He immediately felt lonely without her so close.
Bridget took a step back when he opened his coat and straightened herself up.
"Ummm, only if you're feeling up to it. I don't want to push you after the way you were feeling last night." She said. Concern evident in her tone for Marc's wellbeing. "I'd offer to cook myself, but I'm sure you would still appreciate having a kitchen left by the end of it…" she said with a shy but truthful smile.
Marc chuckled slightly and then said "Yes. Your Mother has told numerous stories about your culinary disasters at her annual Turkey Curry Buffet." He smiled down at Bridget with a wicked but teasing look on his face.
Bridget blushed furiously with indignant embarrassment. Not just because her Mother had been telling everyone in 100km radius about her disastrous and pathetic life, but also the fact that Marc had been paying attention to what she had said!
It wasn't until she looked up at the smirk on his face and the glint in his eye that she realised that he was making fun at her expense.
With that, she slapped him lightly across the arm.
"Oh you!" she said. All embarrassment gone and humorous annoyance in its place.
Marc laughed lightly as he deflected her playful blow.
They both stood there laughing at the situation for a couple of minutes before Marc nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen, gesturing for Bridget to follow him.
"So what are you in the mood for?" Marc asked as a way of continuing conversation between them. He was not good with awkward silence.
"Ummm just some toast and a coffee will be fine for me thanks." Bridget said, not wanting to sound like a pig.
"Marc looked over his shoulder as they continued to walk down the hallway to the kitchen with one eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his face.
Bridget tried to feign indifference at his knowing look, and failed miserably.
He knows how much of a pig I am. Your fat bottom is a dead giveaway Bridget. She thought to herself, ad blushed profusely.
"So bacon and eggs it is then." Marc said, giving her no choice.
Not that I would object to that anyway.
Bridget gave a shy smile and a nod of acceptance.
As they entered the kitchen, Marc pulled out one of the bar stools and waited for her to sit before making his way around the kitchen gathering bits and pieces to cook them both breakfast. As he was doing so he made idle chit-chat with Bridget about their families, their overbearing interfering Mother's, and about the next book that Bridget's work would be releasing.
The talk began to die down a little however, when Bridget's job was brought up and Daniel's name was mentioned. Bridget felt slightly awkward after this and felt useless just sitting watching Marc cook, so she decided she would be in charge of coffee.
Marc watched on as she struggled with the coffee machine. He smiled and laughed to himself, when after 5 minutes she was still yet to work out how to get the coffee beans into the grinder.
Bridget could feel Marc's eyes on her the whole time, and her embarrassment about her incompetence reached an all-time high. She was about to ask for help when she felt a hand at the small of her back and a body pressed up against her side.
Marc had taken pity on her and decided to help her. But instead of just giving her instructions he decided to take over.
Any excuse to be close to her.
He pushed the button to pop the lid on the grinder and then proceeded to pour the coffee beans inside. He then pressed a number of buttons and within seconds coffee was coming out hot and fresh into large white mugs.
Bridget would have been interested to see how the whole contraption worked had it not been for the distraction of his hand just above her backside causing a warm sensation to spread throughout her entire body.
Marc smiled down at her as if to say simple.
Bridget would have smiled back at him but she was too busy staring at his lips.
Oh, to kiss him right now!
Marc could read the expression on Bridget's face, and wanted to do the same thing he knew she wanted to as well, but he needed to make sure that Bridget knew his feelings and intentions before he did anything stupid.
Marc lowered the hand that had been resting on her back and took a step backwards, clearing his throat.
Bridget immediately felt rejected, but tried to hide this from Marc.
Do not cry Bridget Jones.
No man finds a crying woman attractive.
But Marc saw her face fall as soon as he stepped back, and quickly moved to make her understand.
"Bridget" he said to make her look at him.
Bridget looked up slowly, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"Bridget, I like you." He started, hoping to make her feel better.
But this only confused Bridget even more.
If you like me, then fucking kiss me.
"What I mean is…I want this to go somewhere because I really like you. And I would really love to kiss you right now, but I don't want you to think that I am only doing it because you took care of me, and you are here and…" He ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably. He had never had to officially ask a girl out before. He always just seemed to fall into relationships.
Bridget found his words and actions to be endearing. Her hurt forgotten, she began to smile shyly up at him, knowing what he was trying to say but wanting him to actually say it.
If he wants me then he is going to have to work for it. Her inner Goddess lounged back on a sunbed and stretched out waiting.
Marc took a steadying breath and just asked her.
"What I'm trying to ask, very ineloquently, is Bridget Jones…will you go out with me?" He let out the breath he had been holding.
Bridget's smile broadened. She loved it when he was vulnerable in front of her. She decided to tease him a little before giving him her answer.
Her expression tuned to one of pensive consideration before she said "Well I'll have to check my diary. I'm a very busy important person you know. What with book launches to ruin and Turkey Curry buffets to be embarrassed at…" She smiled up at him from behind he lashes, mischievous look on her face.
Marc had begun to feel the same rejection that Bridget had felt only moments before, until he realised that she was making fun of him and making him sweat.
He gave a slight smile then and said in a serious tone "You're going to pay for that."
Immediately catching on to his serious but playful tone, Bridget made a quick dash to the other side of the kitchen, putting the kitchen island between them.
Marc's smile broadened, but his carnal stare remained, so she knew he meant business.
Marc turned around slowly and stared at her. She had a smile on her face, focus in her eyes and heightened senses. He removed the bacon from the flame and turned off the stove top.
Bridget watched him with a questioning look, thinking that he had given up on his game.
During this moment of weakened alertness Marc made his move and ran around the island towards her. But Bridget registered his actions only seconds after he had moved and made a quick dash for the kitchen door. Hearing him laughing close on her heels she increased her pace down the hallway and ran towards any open door she could find.
Pushing her way through the first door she came to she quickly slammed it shut and locked it behind her, trying to catch her breath but laughing all at the same time.
She could hear Marc on the other side rattling the door handle trying to get in.
He started to laugh at her playfulness and said "Alright, alright. You win. I promise I won't do anything if you open the door." He tried to hold back his sarcasm as he said this, because he planned to 'torture' her as soon as she opened the door.
Or just tickle her, and hold her…and kiss her.
Bridget knew that he was lying as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "You think I'm foolish enough to fall for that?!" She said with false shock. She heard him snicker on the other side of the door.
"Fine. But don't expect any bacon when you decide to come out." He tried to coax her out.
Mmmmm Bacon does sound good right now.
NO! Think with your head and not your stomach for once Bridget!
"Nice try, but I think I'll just stay in here for a while." She said.
Bridget began to look around the room for somewhere to make herself comfortable. She realised that she had locked herself inside his study. There was dark wood, books and furniture everywhere.
Exactly what I would expect from a smart rich man like Marc Darcy. She thought to herself.
She made her way over to one of the dark brown leather armchairs in front the the desk and plopped herself down in it.
Hmmmm surprisingly comfortable. She thought as she sat down.
She scanned the room some more and started to see more and more detail of the items in the room. Novels as well as law books, a chess set halfway through a game, and photos of his Mother and Father on his desk. She moved closer to inspect one of the smaller photos. It looked very old and faded. As she picked it up she realised with shock that it was an old photo of herself as a child naked in a paddling pool, and a slightly older boy standing in the background watching with a wide smile on his face.
She was so focused on the photo she had failed to realise that Marc stood in the open doorway, a key held up in his right hand and a triumphant grin on his face.
When he saw what Bridget was looking at he immediately became embarrassed. He had forgotten about the photo until that very moment. Not thinking that Bridget would ever end up in his study at any time in his life.
Bridget heard a small gasp from behind her and she turned around, the photo still in her hands.
Marc looked at her with a blank look on his face. He was unsure whether to explain, or apologise, or make a joke about it.
But Bridget spoke first.
"Marc. Why do you have this picture of me?" She asked, not accusing, but curious.
"I…I….I'm sorry, I had forgotten it was in here. I never meant for you to see it. It's not what you think." He tried to explain, but all he seemed to do was stammer and splutter out a half explanation and half apology.
"This was so long ago. Why did you keep it?" She asked, slight emotion beginning to develop in her voice.
Marc realised that she wasn't mad and felt complete relief wash over him. He founds the words then to explain.
"I just always remember my childhood being the happiest when I was home from boarding school for the summer." He said while taking a few steps inside the room towards Bridget. He went on to explain further. "I guess that picture is just one of my fondest memories." He half smiled at her, feeling slightly awkward for revealing something so intimate to her.
Bridget looked back at the photo for a few moments. When she looked back up she had tears in her eyes.
Of all the memories, and of all the photos, he chose one of me.
Marc took her tears to be of sadness and so moved to comfort her and apologise more profusely. He didn't hesitate for even a second to take her into his arms and press her to his chest, holding her securely and rubbing her back.
Bridget just let him do this. She wanted to be even closer to him in that moment. When Marc started to apologise once again she moved to stop him, and reassure him that her tears were not from anger or sadness, but from surprise and happiness.
"Bridget I'm so sorry. I should have gotten rid of it years ago. I should have thought first…" He started to say.
Bridget pushed against his chest and pulled away slightly, and looked up at him.
"Marc stop it." She said firmly but gently. "I'm not crying because I am upset that you have the photo. I'm crying because I feel so blessed that of all the photos and of all the memories you could have chosen to display, you pick the one of me." She smiled up at him through her tears.
Marc smiled back at her, feeling humbled that she would feel privileged because of him. He freed one of his hands from around her shoulders then and brought it up to her face, brushing his fingers softly across her cheek to wipe away her tears.
Marc couldn't help the surge of happiness and surety that swept through him at that moment, that Bridget was the one he wanted, for the rest of his life. He slowly bent his head towards hers and captured her lips in their first kiss.
It was not passionate by any means, but it was soft and sweet, and portrayed everything that they were both feeling in that moment.
Oh, I wish I could tell this man how much I love him.
Too soon Bridget. Don't want to muck this one up.
As they pulled away they stood staring into one another's eyes and smiled.
Marc placed a few more chaste kisses upon her lips before he looked at her with a mischievous grin once more.
Bridget looked at him with a confused look on her face before he said "You still need to be punished for your little joke in the kitchen." He quirked one eyebrow playfully but seriously.
Bridget tried to wriggle free of his hold but he tightened his arms around her shoulder, preventing her from running.
"Oh no. Please Marc." Bridget pleaded, faking her dislike for the game they were playing. But she could not hide her own playfulness when she let out a small giggle.
With that Marc pounced and picked her up fully off the ground.
Bridget let out a small playful squeal.
Marc carried her over to the leather sofa and laid her down, making sure that he was close enough that she could not escape. He proceeded to tickle her mercilessly.
Bridget lay at the peril of her captor and could do nothing but endure the tickle torture being inflicted upon her. She tried in vain to push Marc away while she laughed hysterically, but with little success.
Marc enjoyed seeing Bridget laugh the way she did, and the child like way she tried to defend herself against his onslaught.
She looks so beautiful and carefree.
God I love her. Marc was only slightly shocked at his sudden realisation that he not only liked Bridget Jones…just as she is…but that he LOVED her.
He wanted to tell her, but knew that it was too soon.
He continued to tickle Bridget for another few minutes before he gave her time to catch her breath.
Bridget lay panting and laughing all at the same time, looking up at him with a broad smile on her face, trying to catch her breath.
She was too irresistible. Marc leant down and captured her lips once more. This time the passion grew with every passing second, and Bridget was just as eager as he was.
Marc held her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, while Bridget ran her hands through his hair. It wasn't until he realised that he had started to inch her dress up her thigh that he stopped their kiss.
No! Don't stop! Bridget wanted to say. She looked at him desperately and kept her hands in his hair.
Slow down old boy. Marc told himself as he moved his hands back to her face. He looked into her eyes and said a silent apology for his haste. He brushed her cheek gently and placed gently kisses on her face, trying to calm both of their raging bodies.
"We should go eat." He said casually while still practically laying on top of her and holding her face close to his.
Bridget let out a deep moan, but knew he was right. She didn't want to scare him away just as much as he didn't want to scare her.
He is not ready to see my wobbly bits just yet. She thought to herself.
Marc moved from on top of her and stood up beside the sofa. He reached down and took Bridgets hands in his, helping her to her feet. He placed one last kiss on her lips before taking her hand and leading her back to the kitchen.
Marc returned the bacon to the stove top and continued cooking breakfast.
Even though it's now lunchtime.
Bridget went back to the coffee machine and took the coffee cups and emptied the now cold contents. As she walked back over to the machine she gave Marc a shy smile.
Marc understood her smile and reached around her and pressed three buttons. Bridget payed attention this time.
I'm sure I'll be making more coffee in the future. Bridget smiled to herself.
Bridget sat sipping her coffee while Marc finished cooking the bacon and eggs and served them up.
They sat side by side discussing what their plans were for the rest of the week, and other meaningless things while they ate. It was during this time that Marc asked Bridget if she would go on a proper date with him.
They agreed on dinner on Friday night.
Must buy super flattering dress for super hunky boyfriend. Bridget thought to herself.
Marc couldn't keep the smile off his face for the rest of the morning after this. And when it came time for Bridget to leave, as have not showered since yesterday, Marc couldn't help the feeling of lose he felt when he kissed Bridget goodbye.
Bridget get into the taxi and rested her head on the back of the seat, smiling and sighing with happiness.
Am very happy indeed.
And she thought about how many days until she could see Marc Darcy again.
To be continued.