Post 'Requiem'
CJ opened the door. "What are you doing here? Donna's-"
"Walk with me."
"What?"
"Walk with me."
She sighed, turned, grabbed her coat, and called out, "Just stepping out for little while, Donna."
"Okay," came the reply from deeper inside her apartment.
CJ put on her coat and pulled the door closed as she stepped out.
"Good morning," Danny said, smiling, perhaps even laughing at her.
"Good morning," she gave in and smiled, captivated for a moment, "You can't just show up here."
"Sure I can."
"Danny…"
"CJ, we are adults. Donna won't care."
"It's not Donna I'm worried about."
"Had me fooled."
"I tried to explain this yesterday – I'm not ready to explain this – us – to anyone, not even, really, myself. I don't know what we are or where we're at and I don't want to over-analyse."
"So if she asks, tell her just that."
"Try to understand…"
"You said we'd put this off for seven years. Your words – but if you meant them then this is not nothing to you, this is not likely to just," he waived his hand like a leaf floating away.
"I need some time."
"Time to do what?"
"Time to be with you before having to explain myself to the world."
"So be with me. Come home with me, read the papers, raid the pantry, have a nap, or a bath, or read a book. Later we'll get Chinese food and watch the news, argue about politics and go to bed."
They stepped out of the apartment building and onto the street. The thought of a lazy Saturday like he'd just described, with him for company, sounded divine.
"What do you say?" He stopped walking and turned to her.
"That sounds really good." She looked nervous but ever so slightly dreamy.
"And unrealistic, I know. You probably have work."
"I do."
"Can you do it from home?"
"Most of it."
"Okay."
"Let me just pop back inside and get some things."
"You want me to come with you?"
"Let's not make this more complicated than it has to be." She could see the words hurt him but he had to understand – it wouldn't always be like this but for now it was necessary.
"Okay. I'll wait inside."
There was a chill in the air but the sun was streaming into his apartment, advertising fresh air and open spaces. He opened French doors onto a tiny porch, unfolded two cushioned deck chairs and threw a blanket over the back of each one.
"I'm going to put on some coffee. Make yourself at home."
She plugged in her laptop and slipped off her shoes, then browsed the bookshelf, fingering the occasional title of interest.
Danny returned and dropped a stack of newspapers on the deck between their chairs. "Have you eaten?"
"Yeah, thanks." She turned to watch him disappear back into the kitchen. She followed. "You're getting into a nasty habit of looking after me."
"I'll try to knock that on the head." He stepped towards her and waited.
"You don't really mean that, do you?"
"Why, you want me to?"
She nodded once, and then shook her head once. "I don't know."
"If I kiss you it's not cause I'm trying to swing that one way or the other."
"It's just my irresistible charm."
"Yep."
He pulled her close and kissed her, memories of two nights previous flooding their minds and leading them quickly to bed.
He leaned over her when they were finished, his hand skirting over her body.
"I think the coffee will probably be ready now."
She smiled and lifted her head to kiss him, pulling him flush against her.
"It'll keep."
She tucked her feet up underneath her and pulled the blanket around her shoulders.
Danny passed her a steaming coffee cup. Lilting jazz tones drifted from inside. He angled his chair and sat beside her, perching his feet on the edge of her chair. She reached out and ran her hand up his leg.
"Thanks for talking me into this." She took a careful sip of coffee.
"Anytime." His gaze lingered on her for a minute. "You want a paper?"
"Sure."
"Any one in particular?"
"Surprise me."
He passed her the post and he put the next one down on his own lap. He nudged his foot under her leg, tantalising her nerve endings, and then he commented on a headline as if nothing unusual was going on.
She imagined for a moment – what if this wasn't unusual? What if this was every Saturday? She knew better than to think this first flush of need and awe would remain indefinitely, but that in itself charmed her. She could be with him, like this. This could be ordinary, and at some level always extraordinary. She smiled. "What did you say?"
He laughed, "Were you distracted by something?"
She put her hand on his ankle. "I might have been."