Biting her lip, her mind having suddenly and treacherously gone blank, Anna wordlessly stood aside and let him in.
He strode past her into the small but tastefully furnished living area.
"Bit dark in here, isn't it?" he commented as his gaze swept around the room, lit only by soft moonlight streaming in from the windows.
She laughed a little, uncertainly, swiped at her tears and managed to make her feet move over to the end table next to the couch, where she clicked on a lamp.
They blinked for a moment as their eyes adjusted to the artificial light.
"Where shall I put these?" he asked, holding up the bucket of cocktail ingredients.
"Ah, the uh, kitchen," she stammered out, and waved an arm vaguely in its direction.
He nodded and disappeared through the doorway into the next room. She could hear him open the refrigerator, rummaging, the sharp clink of bottles and the rustle of the bag of ice.
I've spent so much time steeling myself for disappointment, she thought as she listened in silence. Can this really be happening?
But the sounds reassured her, even more than the sight of him, reassured her that what she was experiencing wasn't just a massive overdose of wishful thinking. Oh my god. He really is here.
He slipped back into the living room and stopped, watching her, the duffle bag still hanging from the strap at his shoulder. His blue eyes were bright and clear, and his posture radiated that contained and quiet strength that from their very first days together she had always associated with him.
It was almost surreal to see him standing there. Standing on her living room rug as though he had sprung from out of the ground before her. He looked at once so out of place and yet so perfectly right.
Without conscious input from her brain her legs carried her across the room, until she stood before him within arms reach. He continued to gaze at her without comment as she slowly, tentatively lifted one hand and touched her fingertips to his face.
He didn't melt, he didn't disappear before her eyes. His skin was warm and slightly rough, as though he hadn't shaved for a day or two. He was solid. He's really here.
She cupped his cheek in her palm. My Robert. Oh, god, is it over? Is it finally over? Or… Her insides clenched. "Are you – how –" she started.
He reached up and covered her hand with his. "I'm fine. I'm good. Really, really good."
There was still a knot in her gut. I know you're not lying to me, but sometimes you hide the truth. You haven't said the words I need to hear. "Then you're…"
"Cancer-free?"
She forced a slight nod. Are you? Oh please.
He grinned. "Yep. For goin' on three months now."
Robert. Are you really healed…? Oh, you wouldn't be here if you weren't!
A sharp tremor wracked through her body – joy, exaltation, release. She slipped her hand from his and brought it to her mouth, trying to hold back a sob of relief.
The duffle bag thumped to the floor. As his arms closed around her, gathering her into an embrace so fierce, so loving that it set her heart alight, she could only form a single coherent thought: You've come back!