Margaret was shaking. Her hands were sweating. She never sweats. Especially in front of other people, especially at work. But Andrew just kissed her, so this was an unforeseen circumstance.
He was helping her unpack her office, deliberately re-filing her papers in their exact spots that he had organized for her on his first day three years ago. She probably couldn't even file them as fast as he could. He had taken charge after their kiss ended. He grabbed her hand and led her into her office, quickly cutting off the moment of pure shock after their colleagues watched them cross some forbidden line. He shut the door behind them, and gave her a box to unpack while he got started on the papers she hurriedly threw into a bin. Normally he just followed everything she said without question, now she had no idea what to do, and he was stepping up to the plate. She didn't know he had it in him.
She couldn't unpack with him sitting calmly in front of her, while she was having the obvious crisis about how this was all going to work. She gazed at him nervously while he was engrossed in his task. Even after his monumental love confession, and her nearly bursting into tears in front of everybody, and his dizzying kiss, and the way he held her, like he knew something about her even she didn't know, he was keeping her shit together. Who knew.
God, he's so handsome, she thought to herself for probably the millionth time that week. His silky hair adorably flopped over his forehead as he furrowed his brow in complete concentration, as if he didn't just alter their worlds forever minutes earlier. His hands, God, his hands, she thought, as she looked at them working meticulously. Even his fingers were somehow muscular—like the rest of his sculpted body that she saw in all his naked glory—and they were veiny and soft, and she could only imagine what they would feel like on her, inside of her.
"Margaret."
She snapped out of her increasingly heated daydream, probably for the better.
"I'm done filing, is there anything else you want me to do?"
"No, I don't have any more boxes."
She paused, she had to say something, to thank him, but it was so hard to get the words out. He had just told her he loved her for fuck's sake, and she hadn't even said it back. How the hell was this going to work? Andrew was younger than her, and kind, and emotionally stable, and charming, and he was surely very good at relationships. She hadn't had a real boyfriend in practically two decades, when she was a teenager, when her parents were still alive. After that it was months of celibacy separated by the occasional one-night stand. She couldn't keep a boyfriend. She was scared, and emotionally distant, and pushed people away, and she tended to attract guys who acted the same way. She swore off dating a year and a half ago, and she honestly never thought she'd be with a man again. But here was Andrew, anticipating that she was trying to get the words out, and waiting patiently for her to speak.
"You didn't have to help me unpack. You're not my assistant anymore."
"I want to help you, Margaret." he said warmly. "I'll always be here to help you."
She couldn't meet his gaze. Fuck. What was she going to do? She just looked down at the floor. Her hands were still shaking, so she clasped them together to try to hide it. It didn't work. She felt Andrew stride towards her confidently, and take her hands in his, holding them tightly enough to let her know he was in control, but gently enough to rub his thumb in circles on her palm. Her shaking stopped immediately, but she still wouldn't look at him.
"Margaret."
She turned her face towards him, but still looked away. He gently cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. All he could see was terror, and confusion, and was that… hopefulness? Affection? Love, even? Even after all these years, it's still so hard to read her, he thought.
His eyes were filled with warmth, and love, and some deep desire to know her. He can see right through me, she thought.
"We're gonna be ok. Let's get out of here and talk. We have some planning to do."
She gave him a small nod, his hands still holding her face. He kissed her, sweetly, and she managed to crack a smile. He grabbed her purse, and held the door as she walked to the elevator, already tensing up around the shocked stares of the office workers.
She stood awkwardly in the elevator, pushing the close button more times than necessary. Andrew looked at her for a moment as she busied herself with the elevator. How did I never know it before? He thought. He had always known that she had her moments of humanity—like when she would nervously ask her to bring her tampax in the middle of the night, and she would be curled up on the couch, with no makeup and messy hair—yet he never knew how… how real she was. She was funny, and charming, and loved talking to people who were older than she is, and adventurous in her own twisted way, and so incredibly beautiful. He couldn't get her gorgeous cheekbones and brunette mane and full, soft lips out of his mind. She was shifting uncomfortably in place when he pulled her to his chest, feeling her tense at his touch. He rubbed her back rhythmically. He hadn't realized how much shorter than him she was. She looked so small and vulnerable when she wasn't in boss mode. By the time she relaxed into his embrace, the elevator dinged and they reluctantly pulled apart. He grabbed her hand and led her to the sidewalk, quickly hailing a taxi before she could say anything.
He held the door open for her while she got in wordlessly, the look on her face told him her mind was whirling. Andrew got in the other side and told the driver his address.
"We're going to your house?" Margaret questioned. Her tone stung a bit. He pretended not to care.
"You've never seen my apartment so I thought I would give you a tour. Then we figure out the logistics of this whole getting married thing."
Margaret swallowed her protest and reluctantly sat back in her seat. Of course she wanted to see his apartment—with his yellowed penguin classics on his bookshelves, and framed pictures of his family—but it was all so overwhelming. What she really wanted to do was sleep for 20 years, while Andrew held her.
The taxi halted to a stop. Andrew paid and led Margaret up to his apartment.
"It's not much." He said with a hint of embarrassment. "But I think you'll like it."
He was right, it wasn't much. He had a small kitchen, with a bowl of fresh fruit and quilted oven mitts that were surely a gift from Gammy. He had an overstuffed loveseat, a small dining room table, a cramped but clean bathroom, and a closed door which she assumed was the bedroom. It was the bedroom they would eventually sleep in, together. Her head was spinning again.
"It's nice." She managed to squeak out. "You have good taste."
She really meant it. It wasn't the sleek, modern furniture she preferred but Andrew clearly put time into his interior decorating and maintained a clean lifestyle. Staying here wouldn't be so bad.
"Have a seat." He motioned to the loveseat.
She sat down gingerly, trying to look at ease, but failing miserably. Andrew sat down after her, putting an arm around her and pulling her close.
"I talked to Jack and Edwin while you were staring at your boxes. They said we could have the whole week off to plan another wedding. We're supposed to have a honeymoon afterall."
She immediately shot up to glare at him.
"A whole week without work?! But I still have to figure out Fred's deal with Oprah, and return about 50,000 emails, and call James about his publishing date, and…"
"Margaret!" He interrupted. Jack and Edwin will take care of it. We need to get settled and spend time with each other. Plus, I think you could use a real vacation."
She thought about his proposition. She really did need a vacation, it had honestly been 10 years since she took substantial time off, and she did want to spend time with Andrew, but a whole week was a big jump from their formal work hours.
"Ok." She said with a hint of excitement. One week vacation and then we're back to work.
They kept talking, and talking, and talking about their second try at marriage, dealing with a daunting stack of IRS paperwork, updating Andrew's parents, and securing Andrew's promotion as Bob's replacement. They decided to get married at their local court, just the two of them. Margaret needed space right now, they both knew that. They would call Andrew's parents later that week to update them, and then Andrew would have an interview for Bob's position, even though he was guaranteed to get the job. It was dark when they were done talking; the day was coming to a close. Empty cartons of Chinese food littered Andrew's living room, while Margaret rested her head on his shoulder, feeling much better that they had a detailed plan to keep her in the country. Margaret rested her head on Andrew's shoulder while he wrapped his arm around her.
"Are you tired, Margaret?"
"Yeah." She said sleepily.
"I have some pj's you can borrow. My mom left some of her bottoms here last time she visited, and you can wear one of my sweatshirts."
Sleep at Andrew's, in his bed, with him? She hadn't prepared for this. He wasn't expecting her to sleep with him already, was he? They only started dating 8 hours ago. Her hands started trembling again. She took a deep breath.
"Andrew, I'm not going to sleep with you yet." She said firmly, trying to prevent her voice from wavering.
"Margaret, I'm not ready to sleep with you yet, either." He said with a chuckle, as if she should've known that all along.
"You're not? I thought… that's what you wanted."
"Sweetheart, I do want that, just not yet. We only started dating 8 hours ago. I just thought we could sleep together… in the literal sense. We're both tired, and it's been a long day, and it's getting too late for you to go home. Besides, I just want to spend more time with you."
"I… I want to spend more time with you too." She said, as if she was admitting some deeply held secret.
He kissed her then, like he did in the office. It was sweet, innocent almost, but he soon pulled her closer to him, pressing their lips more firmly together. He teased her lips with his tongue, begging for entrance. Her jaw was still tight with uncertainty, but Andrew didn't give up. He let their lips part for a momentary breath, and then stormed her gates again, this time getting access to her tongue, letting it mingle with his. She brought her hands up to the back of his neck, slowly making her way to his silky hair she wanted so badly to touch. She gripped his hair with curled fingers, and gently bit his bottom lip, making him moan into her open mouth. Margaret could tell he was trying not to let things get too far when he slowed their kiss down, gently sucking on her bottom lips before parting with her, letting his forehead rest against hers while they tried to catch their breath. She continued rubbing circles on the back of his neck, while he gripped her waist with reassurance.
"Andrew." She breathed. "I do love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it right away. There were so many people. I needed it to be us, just us."
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Shit, I was beginning to think you weren't going to say it back." He chuckled. "I love you too Margaret, so so much."
She came out of the bathroom in his mom's flannel bottoms, and his old crew neck sweatshirt that was much too big on her. Andrew was already reading in bed, sitting against the headboard. He looked up at her, and tried to keep his jaw from dropping. She was fresh faced, with her wild natural waves, his old sweatshirt swallowing her tiny frame. He couldn't help but love her even more.
"Come 'ere."
He opened his arms for her. She hesitated, but eventually let herself fall into his embrace. This was getting easier already. Andrew turned the lights off, and drew her back to his chest, so they were spooning each other. He gently pulled her hair away from the nape of her neck, so her skin was exposed, and kissed each of her tattooed birds before settling into the pillow.
"Goodnight Margaret."
"Goodnight Andrew."