So do you all hate me now? I'm sorry! I had that planned for a long time, but I figured I'd get that kind of reaction, heehee. I hope you dont hate me so much that you stop reading, though! I'm going to be away from a computer for a couple of weeks while I move back to Uni and get the 'net installed. Grr.
Love to all xx
It was an action that Stella thought only happened in movies. Where the actress stirred from slumber and stretched an arm to the other side of the bed, not hitting the warm body of the significant other who was supposed to be there, but the cold hard mattress, not slept in all night.
Her head lifted when realisation set in. Though curls obstructed her view, she knew Mac wasn't there, and by the looks of it, hadn't been at all. When she had returned home from the restaurant in the early hours, she woefully and wearily crawled into bed, exhaustion trumping her overactive mind.
The sleep was dreamless and blissfully long, but the heaviness in her gut was still there. Did that really happen?
She strained through the sleep-haze to see the alarm clock telling her it was ten-thirty-AM. That was a record for the last couple of months. Her head dropped to the pillow with a muffled groan.
After a lovely hot shower and shampoo, she climbed into her car and headed for the office. The irony that she really just couldn't keep away from the place wasn't lost on her, seeing as it was her day off after a hell of a case, but she needed to talk to Mac.
The afore-mentioned irony also wasn't lost on those who she passed in the parking lot or hallways. She gave a "You actually thought otherwise?" shrug and smile and carried on with her mission. She heaved a semi-sigh of relief to see the man in question hunched over papers in his office.
"Hey," Stella said, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her.
"Hey yourself," he replied, looking up, the hurt still there but disguised with professionalism.
"You didn't come home last night."
"Slept here."
"Oh. Can we talk?"
As if to answer her question, Danny bounded into the office. "Mac, Connor says there's something we should take a look at over at 115th. I'm heading out there now, you comin'?" he told, excitement and curiosity magnified in his glasses. "Hey, Stel. Can't keep away, eh?"
"Something like that, Dan."
"I'll meet you at the car," Mac said, hoping he'd get the hint. He did.
"Be good," Stella warned the departing figure. "Lunch?" she mentioned, bringing the conversation back, though the enormous grey elephant in the room couldn't be ignored.
"Can't. Get takeout, I'll be home by six." He swung his jacket from the seat and onto his body.
"Six," she repeated. Mac kissed her cheek as he passed, calming her fears somewhat.
Xx
She didn't in fact get a takeout as instructed, but cooked a meal worthy of Massimo's in her free time. She even had a home-made Tiramisu cooling in the fridge. The kitchen table was set out with candles and wine, all awaiting the return of Mac.
"I'm back," he called, the sound of the door closing book-ending his comment. She listened as he dropped his brief-case in the hall, hung his jacket on the hook and put his keys next to hers in the dish with a clatter.
"Kitchen!" she called back. She positioned herself behind a chair, smoothing her back dress down and folding an escaped curl behind her ear.
"Wha-What's all this?" Mac asked, taken back a step.
"I didn't fancy takeout."
"Wow," he whispered, taking in the table and the woman behind it all. "I don't think those table-mats have seen daylight since Claire was alive."
Stella gave a smile as she pulled a dish out of the oven. "Home-made Moussaka, with home-made garlic bread and home-made Tiramisu for dessert." Just the slightest bit of pride in her voice.
"Really pulled out the stops, huh?" He mentioned taking a seat. She wasn't sure if that was a dig at the effort for the night before or an actual compliment. She took it as the latter, hoping Mac wasn't as spiteful as that.
"Thought we deserved it."
They ate with general chatter; work, work-related gossip - the usual. The real matter at hand was postponed until after desert.
When the time came, Stella refilled the wine glasses while Mac put the dishes in the sink. They sat back down and looked to each other. "We gonna talk?" she asked.
"Have you changed your mind?" he took a sip of the wine and put the glass back down with a pointed stare.
"…no."
"I see."
"I just don't think it's the time to get married. This is -was- going so great. I think we should explore that some more before we jump to the alter."
"'Jump to the alter'? Stella, you're 38 years old, we're not getting any younger. We've known each other for ten or more years, it's not like we're rushing anything."
"Isn't it? We've only been together for ten months-"
"and living together for two, I know, I've heard this argument before."
"Don't do that, Mac."
"Do what?"
"Belittle my reservations and feelings."
He sipped at his wine again, calming himself down from the frustrated precipice.
"I just don't think we're there as a couple. I don't think I'm there and, in all seriousness, I still don't think you're ready either."
"This isn't about Claire again, is it? I've told you before not to tell me when I'm 'ready' and what I'm 'ready' for, Stella. I'm a big boy, I can make my own mind up." The precipice was getting closer and closer…
"Don't act like Claire doesn't still have a big say in your decisions, Mac."
"What are you talking about?"
"She'll come into conversation every day. You'll mention something that she used to say, something she used to do, something she used to have…"
"She was my wife, Stella. That's not something I can just forget about!"
"Have I asked you to? I knew her as well, Mac. She was my friend too, and she was taken from me too."
"I was married to her for 12 years, this was our house-"
"Exactly, but now it's supposed to be our house, Mac; yours and mine. Claire doesn't live here anymore."
"I can't believe we're having this conversation…"
"When I was moving in, I knocked a box over by accident of Claire's things and you nearly bit my head off-"
"I apologised for that-"
"That's not the point. Claire is still too much of a touchy subject for you to fully and completely let someone else into your life."
"She was my damn wife, Stella!"
"I know that!"
"So you're not going to marry me because my dead wife is a painful subject?"
"Don't twist this so that I'm the bad-guy here."
"I'm just really having a hard time believing that this is actually what we're breaking up over."
That stumped her.
"…Breaking up?"
"Isn't that what's happening here?"
"I didn't think so."
"I think I'm seeing more of a future between us than you are…"
"That is not true. I'm on the same page as you are, you're just further down it than me."
"Can you tell me when we're going to be on the same line, then?"
"…Not for certain…"
"Is there any point to us reading the same book then?"
"Can we lose the book analogy, 'cos I'm getting really lost here, Mac."
"Do you think we could bounce back from something like this?"
"We can. We definitely can. It just might take some fighting."
"I'm not young enough to fight anymore, Stella. The thing I loved most about this relationship was that it was easy, it was right. I'm not so sure anymore."
"So that's it? We're over?"
"I think it's for the best."
They sat there for a few moments, looking into each others eyes, trying to visualise a way of rectifying it all. To let the past two nights just become an unfortunate, and later forgotten blip, on the road to complete happiness.
They could see it wasn't going to happen.
Stella's head sagged, her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed. "I guess I'll pack my bag then."
"You don't have to do that tonight."
"I think I do. I'll go to a hotel or something. I'll sort something out, you don't have to worry about me, I'm a big girl." She told him, using his own words.
She swallowed the rest of her wine in one gulp and made for the bedroom. She didn't see Mac's head drop into his hands, his body heaving a heavy, sad sigh.
She re-emerged a few minutes later, a duffle bag in hand with a selection of clothing stuffed inside. She fought with everything she could muster to not let one of the tears that were stinging her eyes fall.
Mac stood when Stella came into the kitchen again. She walked to him and kissed him for the last time. A kiss to remember her by. She whispered "Goodbye," and collected her jacket and keys from the hall and slipped out into the bleak New York night.