I shall not lie-this chapter has been a project. It has been planned for months, tracked in different directions, and finally plotted out in detail. It has been one I have agonized over, edited and edited, sought advice and counsel concerning its structure and contents...and now here it is. I do post with trembling fingers and with hopes that the slight change in writing style comes across as I so hope it will. Also do note that it is rated M. If this presents a problem to any of you, feel free to message me.

My greatest appreciation and love to La Donna Ingenua who went through this chapter line by line with me, read countless updates and kept prodding me to keep at it until the end result was obtained. You are my sister on so many levels, and I am sending you the biggest hugs imaginable right now! R. Grace-your encouragement is a constant fuel to my writing and always just makes my heart sing-you are sunshine to me! And On either side the river lie...what can I say? I always dance with happiness when I receive a message with your incredible insights and support-you are simply divine and always make me laugh!

KE-my most special hugs to you, sister. In our weakness, He is strong. :)

And to all my readers...your kindness towards me and enthusiasm for this story always put a spring in my step and a huge smile on my face! And do remember that there will be a two week hiatus before Chapter 23 posts...I do apologize.

Should we dare a peek inside that door?

The air was thick, the space utterly motionless as her bedroom walls seemed morph into a private cocoon. Strangers, survivors, they had somehow found each other, forged a connection she now felt no need to explain but drank in as greedily as she had the tea just minutes ago. The comfort of his hand engulfing hers was a brittle lifeline, her connection to this world, to this house, to this man hinging upon its existence. She dared not let go, rubbing her thumb lightly aside his fingers, wary of even breathing too loud lest this transparent thread be broken.

And she left alone.

"Mary."

Her name, whispered in such concern and reverence as he stood across from her sent tremors rippling across her skin. His voice entranced her, his utterance of her name the only sound that had been dared in this fragile realm.

Shivering…

"Shhh," she responded, words still too difficult to conceive. Her feet took a tentative step in his direction, the waves of emotion crashing inside her only increasing in intensity as she drew nearer.

One step nearer.

He closed his eyes as trembling fingers fluttered across his temple, one hand moving hesitantly around her waist, resting on her hip as the room froze yet again. Her throat constricted, swallowing an effort as her skin began to warm.

Then brown eyes opened, the fullness of so many emotions competing for dominance within him piercing her depths, and she squeezed her own shut, tears she had desperately attempted to curtail pulled from her. She sought out happy images, the faces of Anna, John and their new daughter swimming in her mind's eye. But these were the very ones that also kept grabbing at her heels, threatening to tug her down into a place she desperately did not want to go.

Her bottom lip quivered, and she turned her head aside, not wanting to shatter, not when she was struggling so valiantly to keep herself together. She clasped everything tightly—muscles strained, breathing shallow, emotions balled up to toss away. But a large hand softly directed her face towards his.

And she was lost.

Desperately…

Shaking arms grasped him in desperation, knowing that he was the driftwood that would prevent her from going under. She fisted his jacket in her hands, rubbing her tears on his shirt as one of his own fell into her hair. He covered her instantly, drawing her securely against his chest, protecting her in his arms...

Loving her.

A wave formed from her depths, pushing emotion shoved aside back to the surface with an alarming velocity. Sobs began to wrack her body, any sound she made buried into his shoulder as his trembling response moved through her. The salty sting of grief dripped down her face, and she cast herself into its current, knowing the futility of fighting the tumult. Mary felt him lift her from the ground, cradling her against him as she had just cradled Anna's baby. He bore her securely to the corner of her bed where he sat and held her, rocked her, soothed her, stroked her hair with the same tenderness he would have showered upon his own daughter.

Gentle hands stroking…

Her arms went around him, wet cheeks sliding across his neck as her cries would not be contained. Images, emotions, fragments of memories poured out of her, fighting for freedom as any semblance of control clattered to the floor.

Being in the hospital alone and in pain, fearing what was to come but was already upon her…

Matthew's expression when he walked into her room, seeing his son for the first and only time…

The final dance of his lips upon hers, a kiss which she could not seem to let go, moving with him as if she somehow sensed what was coming.

What was coming.

What had passed.

What was lost.

She curled into Charles, letting him absorb the ripping of her soul as so much gushed out of her onto his clothing, onto his skin. Her hands found his hair, so thick and lush, and she pressed fingers into his scalp, as if trying to draw out the venom from his own painful past. His arms tightened instinctively around her, his breath on her ear as she felt another of his tears trickle down her lobe.

She held him closer.

Breaking open…clasping tightly…

She couldn't seem to get him close enough, actually, wanting to pull him into her very being where they could cast aside what tore at them and cling to what healed. A gentle touch of his lips against her cheekbone only heightened this instinct, her own mouth moving to his temple as she spoke her first words into his skin.

"Don't leave me."

He shook his head, hands answering for him as they gripped her in need, begging in their own language for her…

For just her.

Incredible…

He was raw, gaping open before her. Gone was the polish, the veneer of charisma, the charm she found so endearing. But she did not need it, did not want it, actually, when all of her emotional cosmetics had run off some time ago. No pretense…no hiding. Just the two of them, bloody and battered yet still standing, still breathing, and daring to feel once more. They were fully clothed, but she felt more naked than she had at the lake, his arms her only covering, his heart her only blanket to wrap around her blatant exposure.

Tender warmth…sheltering arms…

The breath of a kiss on her ear.

She turned on his lap to face him fully, putting herself in a more vulnerable position but not bothered by the fact. He needed her, she craved him to her depths...this was all that mattered. She leaned in to his form until her forehead rested upon his, cautious fingers framing his face as his arms enclosed her fully. Nose to nose, breath to breath they sat, an occasional tear wiped away by hands that understood, an acceptance and remembrance of pasts that had left them marked. Any sense of time escaped them, the only reality the whisper of his thumb across her forehead, the only conversation her name upon his lips.

"Mary…"

His voice drawing her…closer…ever closer.

Eyes needing…pleading silently…

She felt the overwhelming urge to smooth away his scars with her palms, slowly edging his jacket off his shoulders and nudging to the floor. Her hands danced across his chest, the fabric of his shirt suddenly in the way—a frustrating barrier she wanted to cast aside. Eyes still streaked from crying questioned silently from under heavy lids, receiving no censure from orbs that had witnessed too much destruction. He took in her beauty—the enormity of it nearly breaking him asunder—as he quietly nodded once.

Granting permission…seeking solace…needing so much...

Needing her.

That she should want to touch him was unbelievable, unfathomable to a man who had avoided physical intimacy for years. Moments in the dark brought about by financial transactions had done nothing but made him feel dirty, exposing his wounds even further as he realized there was no substitute for what had transpired in the arms of his wife. But there was nothing but wonder here, hope and tenderness with this woman who allowed him to be all too honest yet sat here trustingly on his lap.

And she offered to heal his scars. What had he ever done to deserve this?

She undid a button with trembling fingers, and he did not stop her, too dependent upon this connection to even consider severing it. One button, then another, until the garment was left hanging on his shoulders, his chest now exposed to her.

Breath halting….then speeding… senses quivering...

The graphic beauty of a man scarred…a trance woven by marble skin.

"No undershirt?" she spoke, startled by the sound of her own voice in the environment they had created.

"I didn't bother after the lake," he admitted, the edges of a grin actually peeking out at her that made her heart flutter. They were locked once more, looking to each other, both afraid to move yet compelled to journey. He then leaned in, kissing the very spot he had first claimed in the hallway several nights ago, increasing the pulse in a temple already skittering with life.

He had marked that place as his, she realized, but he would claim no other part of her without her permission. The enormity what was happening washed over her, making her feel light and heavy at the same time. She stared at his face as flat palms began a trail up his torso, one following the path left by a knife, the other tracing the tracks of wounds invisible yet deeper. They stilled just under his shoulders, the increased pace of his breath on her neck blowing life into a smoldering blaze.

She leaned in until her lips sat just on top of his, swallowing down nerves as her eyes remained open.

An understanding of shared darkness…knowing weaknesses…

Accepting everything.

"I am so sorry, Charles."

Her words entered him, his hands fisting her dress tightly as she took his upper lip into her mouth. She languidly traced a trail, careful not miss even one place on his lips as she attempted to wipe away the self-reproach she knew he harbored. But those emotions were buried in far reaches, her tongue moving deeper in search of such wounds, probing him, searching him, and accepting the absolution he offered her as he began to kiss her insistently.

Insistently…blood pulsing…mouths open and clasping...

Partaking freely…hungrily…the end of a season of famine.

He kissed away the remnants of searing loss, the sting of deep pain remembered. The movement of his lips on hers drowned out guilt's ugly voice, banishing any thoughts of curses from the fringes of her mind. Hands worked his open shirt off his shoulders, drawing it down slowly, bare skin on display for her.

Bare emotions laid open by both.

Arms wound around backs, she hungrily memorizing the feel of exposed flesh on such a large scale, he clasping her to him, wanting her to move on but cautious of allowing her to do so.

"Mary, are you certain?" he managed, a bit of reason attempting to curtail the flood of emotion rising at an alarming rate.

Her answer was open mouthed, a pulsing response that engulfed him as her tongue spoke for her. Her dress hitched up her thighs as she moved in even closer, fingernails drawing a sketch on his back that shot through him like a bolt.

Yes. She was certain.

She was desperate for him, actually, relishing this rising wildfire that burned away what hurt. Thrills sped up her spine as large hands smoothed over her thighs, caressing skin the dress had abandon. His fingers traced the materials edge, teasing her into a small frenzy as she nibbled his bottom lip. A small moan escaped him, and she felt her dress balling tightly around her legs in his fist. She shuttered slightly as his tongue caressed her palate before tangling with hers with no restraint.

Need building…instincts dominating…

The wildness of a spark unleashed…the receptiveness of the dry brush of brokenness.

She raised up on her knees until her face was above his, hands framing his face as rapid breaths merged. Eye seeking final permission looked at her with such adoration she nearly melted into him. She leaned in closer as large hands continued to warm her thighs, forbidding either of them to break their gaze as her thumbs stroked his face.

"Make love to me."

Good God. He could never deny her anything.

He pulled her mouth back to his, giving her his answer in a manner that left her in no doubt of his response. She felt the subtle shift in his touch, from somewhat restrained to purposeful, although it remained as gentle as the silken texture of her dress. He kissed her completely, rocking her backward a bit so he could explore her mouth unhindered as his arms bore her weight.

Flashes of heat prickling up her thighs…spreading tension…skin heightened in anticipation….

In absolute need.

"Yes. God, yes."

Lips that had just spoken then drifted down her neck, their unrushed but insistent attentions only intensifying her deeply-rooted ache. His nose then brushed down to her clavicle, nuzzling her softly as hot breath teased her sensitive flesh. Hands clasped his head, pulling him closer, ever closer until his lips finally touched down.

And she nearly jumped off his lap.

She felt his grin against her neck, noting the strengthening of his grip around her as his tongue resumed what his lips had started. A cry escaped her—she could not help it—enduring this heady agony as long as she was able. She pushed him forward, taking his mouth fully, desperately.

Plunging in deeper...seeking more of him…always more…

Soft fingertips resumed their traipsing dance up and down his torso, feeling his skin heat under their delicate ministrations. Then it was his turn to start, bouncing her slightly in a manner that made her draw back enough to look at him in question.

"Ticklish?" she mused, eyeing him with unabashed curiosity.

"I'll never tell," he returned with a dimple, earning himself a soft giggle of appreciation as they looked at each other yet again. "You would just use it against me."

She stroked his hair, losing her fingers in its lushness.

"I'll find out, you know."

Mischievous fingers were pulled into his mouth, kissed and suckled until the confines of her own skin felt tight.

"Yes. But you'll have to work for it."

He tossed a brow at her before she could retaliate, then it dawned upon her.

They were smiling…both of them truly smiling.

Unfathomable…unreasonable…

So incredibly welcome.

Her face neared his, hissing slightly as his hands traced the profiles of her legs. The kiss that ensued was warm, rich, and languid, one ripe with anticipation and full of understanding. Tongues met with a purpose, giving and receiving, exchanging pain for hope, the past for the present.

And the possibility of a future.

Large hands toyed with the strap of her dress, and he kissed the skin around it, sliding one finger under the slip of material as her heartbeat sped markedly. He then clasped it between finger and thumb, nudging it over slightly to allow his lips access to skin just uncovered. No freckle was ignored, each sampled and appreciated as if it were the finest of delicacies. Somehow the strap found itself sliding down her arm, her shoulder now uncovered until his palm rested there a moment.

Before skimming around to her back…

And discovering her buttons.

Dear God.

They both stood, understanding without speaking as his fingers began their work in silence. Sometimes staring, sometimes kissing, one rounded bead after another was released from its confines until she felt nothing but air on her back.

Air…and stroking hands.

She leaned into him, hands resting on his chest as his fingers skimmed her flesh. He then turned her around, wrapping one arm securely around her waist as the other began to play with fabric. He drew down one side of her garment just enough, feathering kisses on her upper back that straightened her spine instantly. Her head dropped back to his shoulder, and he took advantage of the exposed lines of her neck, moving his lips to its surface and feasting while the dress fell off one shoulder completely. His hand drew lines on her arm, gooseflesh blossoming in its wake as he held her fast to him.

Then the other side began its descent…falling away…revealing secrets.

Her mind was a blur of color and sensation, of light and feelings that swirled in an ever-widening vortex. Muscles began to flutter and clench, lips moving with no sound coming out. She wondered if she would be able to remain upright if not for his supportive hand splayed across her naval holding her close.

So very close.

She was vaguely aware of her dress dropping to the floor, of her feet stepping out of its confines. But she was highly alert to feel of his hands on her body with only her slip as a barrier. Touches were kept purposefully on top of the garment as he used the light material to his advantage, creating within her a frenzy that had its own set of demands. She turned back to face him, needing his mouth on hers, needing the connection of lips and tongues, the mingling of breath, and the sense of life in his eyes.

Wanting this man so badly…recklessly…

Now.

She finally reached out for his trousers, unhitching clasps and working them down as she felt the impact of her attentions in the aroused state of his kiss. His mouth began to feast upon hers as pants were cast aside, so little…so very little covering bodies intent upon finding one another.

A potent awareness of his need…

Then hands could not be still…tracing, feeling, rubbing in the excitement of exploration. Lips began to increase their pace, tongues following suit as the need for more dominated this unspoken conversation. They were pressed so tightly together, so very, very tightly.

The nudge of a strap, his mouth on her shoulder, one hand sliding down her back and even lower.

Fingers tracing a pattern across the lacy top of her slip, circling languidly around one breast before skimming to the other.

Then clasping.

Her instinctive arching pushed her back against him, kissing…demanding. She poured herself into him, knowing he accepted every part of her without question, reveling in the notion of nothing being hidden between them.

Nothing hidden.

She broke their connection, watching his eyes as she stepped back slowly.

And let her slip fall to the floor.

She shivered at the sensation of nothing but air and eyes upon her skin, keeping her gaze steady as she watched him drink in her image.

"My God, you are beautiful."

It was all he could manage, the words forming with some difficulty yet spoken with the hushed reverence of a prayer. He gathered her close, chest to chest, unable to stop caressing her flesh as mouths found each other yet again. What garments remained were cast aside, and they paused a moment.

Staring…marveling...the wonder of newness in a touch.

"So are you."

He was completely overcome by her, feelings surging up, pushing through boundaries as words crossed his lips before he could consider their impact.

"Mary, I…"

Her finger touched his lips, rubbing their surface, absorbing words she could not yet hear yet understood to her depths.

"I know."

Her whisper caressed him, received by a heart whose transparency beckoned her.

Nothing between them. Nothing hidden.

The pad of her finger continued to touch his lips, her eyes accepting his most tender offering. He then drew her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm as he had before…as he intended on kissing other parts of her, she realized. She snaked her arms around his neck, clasping him close to keep her knees from buckling as his attentions moved to her mouth.

They somehow found the bed, laying upon it without ever losing connection. The lamp was extinguished in favor of the moonlight's silver hues. Bodies were bathed in crystal and shadows, and any remaining thoughts evaporated into sensation…

Glorious, mind-numbing sensation.

The feeling of cool sheets pressed against her back. Warm hands on skin. Lips rubbing softly, nibbling, tasting…

Knowing.

Eager fingers discovering, caressing, learning secrets in the dark…

Maddening.

Mouths taking over…lavishing her breasts. Hands grasping, grasping, heads tossing back in abandon.

Fingers clenching, kneading the planes of his body. Names called out breathlessly.

Legs tangling, stroking, opening.

The intimate touch of a lover.

Body to body, muffled cries marking shoulders. A look of inquiry.…a nod…the touch of guiding hands.

Easing….accepting…..merging slowly…...a sigh of completion..

Clinging to the other.

Then clasping…..moving…pressing hard.

Grasping instinctively.

Riding waves and tides….mouths on skin.

Rising, continually rising...

Swelling…cries…groaning…lips painting flesh.

Seeking more…gripping harder.

Climbing…panting….straining.

Soaring higher… yet higher.

Cresting….yes…bursting.

Crashing…colliding…breaking into the other.

Ebbing….holding...breathing.

Warmth.

Gentle strokes cocooned in a safe embrace…whispered endearments felt more than heard. Her arm draped over his chest, eyes unable to look away just yet…still connected.

Still connected.

His hand stroking her hair. Heavy limbs tangled under sheets. Soft kisses feathered over cheek bones, fingers interlocked. So much…so very much.

Still body to body.

"Mary."

Her name on his lips breathed into her hair. Eyes engaging yet again, fingers stroking his face. She sees all he offers, what he has wholly given her. And what she has given him.

"I know."

Another kiss…a smile, a dimple touched. They burrow into each other, adjusting blankets over shoulders, still touching each other in wonder.

Settling in to an all-consuming awareness of something new.

He draws her to him, spooning their bodies together, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her breast. No words are needed with his warmth pressed against her back. Fingers caressing her hair lull her, beckon her to close her eyes and fall into him.

She does.

Resting…trusting…

Drifting.

And he keeps watch, holding her close, memorizing the scent of her hair, the geography of her curves, the feel of her breath on his arm. Eyes fully open…heart fully exposed.

Lost to her in every way imaginable.

The Sleeping Beauty, he thinks, intoxicated by long lashes and pale lips. He stares at the clock, dreading the moment when he must leave her.

"Mary."

A word whispered in the dark shimmering in the moonlight. Her countenance so peaceful, almost girl-like with all traces of sorrow wiped away by sleep's magic hand.

"I love you."

Her features do not move, but her body adjusts, turning into him, seeking him in her slumber.

She knows, he realizes fully as heavy eyes betray him and begin to drift shut.

She knows.

He awoke with a start, blinking at the clock in haste to ensure he had not slept too long.

No….it was alright.

He shook his head slightly, breathing a silent word of thanks into the room even as he could not believe his slip of weakness. He slept so little, rarely slept well at all, actually, making the fact that he could have caused an unimaginable mess had he slept much longer in her bedroom ironic in the worst sense.

He hated the thoughts of waking her when she looked so content, but he could not stomach the thoughts of sneaking out like a self-serving rake, leaving her to face morning alone and with inevitable questions.

He kissed her forehead gently, relishing the feel of her form burrowing in closer while still bound within the heady confines of sleep. He could not help but smile at her, stare at her, be overwhelmed by what had just transpired between them in her bed.

He watched her lips twitch slightly, the look of utter peace resting upon her features warming him deeply. Then he heard her speak, a slight murmur echoed from dreams that stilled his heart.

"Mathew…"

For a moment, he could not breathe.

It should not have stung so deeply. He was fully aware that parts of her still clung to his memory, still yearned for her husband that she had loved for so long. It was only natural, only right. Had he not told her just yesterday that she was not ready for…for this?

For what they had just done?

And he had promised her that he would be patient…would take things as slowly as she needed.

That promise had lasted only a matter of hours.

He silently berated himself for his weakness, cursing himself as a cad even as he could not bring himself to regret their actions. He would not take back a moment of this time with her, craving more of it against his better judgment.

Just what kind of man did that make him?

He felt her stir once more, and he kissed her temple again in some sort of useless attempt to reclaim what he selfishly felt the right to mark as his own. Heavy lids began to flutter open, eyes slowly focusing on the man before her.

He saw the quick flash of confusion laced with a spark of something he could only pray was not disappointment. Then recognition settled comfortably with a hint of surprise, soft fingers touching his face in a manner that made him ache in more ways than one.

"What time is it?" she whispered, her voice heavy with the remnants of sleep as she stretched languidly against him.

"Almost time for me to leave," he answered with more than a little regret. "I would hate to bring the entire house down around us."

She made a sound of acknowledgement, gazing at him wordlessly as her fingers continued their ministrations.

"What is it?" he asked softly, stroking her shoulder lightly, finding it nearly impossible to force himself to move from her side.

She bit her bottom lip self-consciously, making her appear quite young indeed.

"Funnily enough, I feel a bit shy," she admitted, drawing forth his grin as he leaned gently on top of her.

"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?"

His kiss was gentle yet possessive, hers still groggy but inviting as hands resumed their explorations from hours ago. Bodies responded quickly, need emerging again with softer edges and less desperation. This joining was slower, more delicate yet profound to both of them in its implications. Breaths melded into each other as she shattered completely in his arms, as he broke apart inside of her. She clung to him tightly in the aftermath, and he held her as close to him as he possibly could, afraid of letting go and returning to the world awaiting them outside of this newness, but knowing fully that it was necessary.

Morning had unexpectedly become their enemy.

"I have to leave now."

The words tasted foul in his mouth as he touched his lips to hers once more.

"I know."

She knew.

He regretfully slid out of the bed, unable to take his eyes from her as he dressed in the dark. Clothes felt almost foreign on his body after being with her in such state—so open and unhindered, so brutally raw with each other on every front. Yet she remained in a state of perfection—naked, partially covered by a crumpled sheet, watching him with eyes that now saw everything. He returned to her for one more kiss, one more touch, one more moment with her before the questions he knew they both must face took center stage in the light of day.

He did not want to leave her.

Her fingers clasped his arm, keeping him with her another moment before everything changed irrevocably. It already had, of course, but they were protected from anything unpleasant or difficult as long as this connection was not severed. Foreheads touched yet again, her thumb stroking his skin as he gently pushed a wayward lock of hair from her eyes.

His hand on her shoulder. Her lips on his cheek.

The fear of letting go.

She despised the feel of her bed lightening as he stood, fighting the urge to pull him back to her even as her eyes gave her away. Pale skin shivered, feeling bereft without his covering to shelter her.

Why did she feel so suddenly exposed?

He hated the feeling of moving away from her, of leaving her alone in her bed, of the cold metallic texture of the door knob held within his grasp. She sat and watched him grudgingly slip out of her door, gazing at him intently as he dared a final glance around its corner before disappearing into the darkened hallway. Shutting the door seemed so final for some reason.

He missed her already.

Heavy feet journeyed silently to his room, his eyes ever watchful for unexpected witnesses as he entered the safety of his chambers. How cold it felt—drafty and uncomfortable.

Lonely and dark.

He removed his shoes and stretched out atop his covers, his mind dominated by the woman so very close to him yet worlds away—the woman who had left him with a heart so very full...

And more than slightly wounded.

The room was different somehow now that he was gone, her own but larger in a sense.

She clasped the pillow to her face, inhaling his scent, needing a tangible reminder of him even though he had just left her presence. She held it to her breast, still greedy for a connection with him. It was no substitute for arms that had just held her, caressed her, touched her privately…

Just as it never had been after Matthew left her.

Matthew…

She stood from the bed quickly, the reality of what had just happened drenching her senses with the same shock as icy water. Hands covered her cheeks as she moved to the mirror, making out what she could of her reflection in the relative darkness.

She was naked. And she had given him everything.

She had made love to Charles, and he to her. There had not once been any confusion for her concerning that issue. It had never been Matthew in her mind, his presence sensed only in the blurry dreams that drifted in and out before Charles woke her. But it was only now that something even more profound struck her.

This had been a final good-bye.

Not to his memory, but to his hold on her life. Not to the love they had shared, but to her long-held belief that she could never share something beautiful with someone else. She had parted ways with dwelling in the shadows the moment she drew Charles Blake into her bedroom, choosing to be with him rather than mourn in the dark alone.

Was it possible to feel oddly unfaithful yet liberated at the same time?

She nearly opened the drawer to pull out his photograph but stilled her hand a breath from the handle. No—she would not give him a part in what had just transpired. Yes—grief and loss had instigated the intimacy just shared within these walls, but it had been given and taken freely by two adults—two survivors. It would be wrong and hurtful to cast a shadow over a relationship forged out of such shards and remnants.

To let a ghost come between them…

Had she been ready for what they had done?

It was too late to second guess their decision now, the deed having been done more than once. She fought down the instinctive need to cover herself, staring at her nudity blatantly as she quietly accepted this new reality she had chosen.

A lone tear slid down her cheek—a final kiss to the man she had loved for as long as she could remember. She then wiped it away, blinking back the urge for more as she slid on the nightgown laid out for her and padded quietly back to her bed. Sheets had chilled once again, her toes finding no warmth within them as she drew blankets over shivering arms. And for what seemed like hours, she lay there, silent and still, thinking of two different men, two different lovers…

In a room now lonely and dark.