Oops… I was re-watching Fleabag, and my hand slipped.

Elizabeth sighs in frustration as Steven rolls off her and closes his eyes. Why wouldn't he start falling asleep? He's completely sated. She's been an excellent wife to him for the last eight months. Her guilt about cheating has encouraged her to keep his stomach full and his balls empty. She heard him use this phrase to his best friend at their Fourth of July cookout. Her heart dropped when she heard it. It had forced her to face head-on that he's never truly loved her. Not in the way she loved him in the beginning. Elizabeth was raised to be a good wife. And she has embodied it. She has let him "lead" their family. She quit her job for him (also her daughter) but primarily for him. He wanted to move out of the city, so they did. He wanted her to do the housework, so she did that too. And as he delicately put it, she also keeps his balls empty. Never mind that she only gets to cum by her hand… or Henry's mouth. That thought doesn't stir guilt in her tonight, just want. She wants to be free.

"I want a divorce." She says, resolute in her decision. Steven sighs next to her.

"You're just tired. Let's talk about it in the morning." His words slur slightly in his sleepy state.

"I'm not happy. You don't make me happy."

"Honey, please don't get melodramatic tonight. I've had a long day. Let's get some sleep."

"I cheated on you." She says into the darkness of their room. She feels his body goes stiff next to her.

"What?" His voice is quiet. She hears him swallow and turns her head to look at him.

"I cheated on you."

"Do I know him?" The look on his face and the crack in his voice smashes her chest with the heaviest guilt she's ever experienced.

"No."

"Was it just sex? If it was just sex, we can work it out."

"It wasn't." She sees his eyes fill with hurt, and she realizes that maybe he does love her in the best way he can. Maybe both of them are consequences of their waspy southern raising.

"I didn't… I haven't been listening to you. I'm sorry." She watches as he realizes his faults and wonders what would've been if he had figured them out years ago.

They lay together, staring at one another, both coming to terms with the end of their marriage.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth whispers. He doesn't acknowledge her apology; he gets out of their bed, throws his boxers on, and heads down the stairs. But even through her guilt, she can hear the freedom bell ring. And what a triumphant sound it is.

…X…X…X…

He shouldn't be here. He knows he shouldn't. But he couldn't talk himself out of it. He's managed to avoid seeing her for the two years he had to remain in Charlottesville. He's had his groceries delivered. He's spent his downtime writing a new book. He's invited his family down to spend a week with him. When none of that cured his loneliness, he applied for laicization. He was denied. Then he was counseled. And he had thought about excommunicating himself. But what for? To date? And why? He's passed his prime for kids. And the only woman he thinks about dating is married to someone else.

So he's leaving in two days. Pittsburgh this time. Which will be nice, he thinks. But he can't leave without seeing her one last time. He needs to lay his eyes on her one last time. He needs to know she's okay. That she is happier than the last time he saw her. Because she wasn't, she was acting recklessly. He could tell she was depressed. Sometimes when he thinks about it, he feels like he took advantage.

He walks into the lecture hall in the only street clothes he owns, a pair of running shorts and a plain T-shirt. He picks a seat near the back. He watches her teach. It's not what he expected. She has a distinct lack of enthusiasm for it. The words roll off her tongue as she explains the geopolitical complications of the formation of Israel. But then there's a glint in her eyes. He always called it the shiny eyes thing. The look she gets when she's happy. She can't hide a small smile when she gives them an anecdote from her CIA days. But her face twists slightly into confusion when she finds him in the crowd.

Her first thought when she sees him is guilt. Guilt weighs heavy on her chest as their last meeting flashes in her mind. Her left hand feels empty with the reminder of the marriage she couldn't save. Her mind is on the kids she birthed, who are still angry at her for breaking their home apart. She continues her lecture, pointedly not looking at Henry. She can't look at him. The feelings he conjures in her are too complex for her to handle.

She wants to rush out of the room along with her students. Only she doesn't consider herself a coward. So she won't. She watches as Henry waits for the room to clear before making his way down the stairs to her.

"What are you doing here?" Her words come out with a hiss. He's not surprised by her tone. He knows that their goodbye that night was meant to be final. He can't say why he still knows her so intuitively, but he does. He knows she blames him for what happened because it is easier for her. It makes it easier to live with.

"I…" He pauses because saying he just wanted to see her one last time would be a wrong answer. The last time was supposed to be the last time. She sighs heavily and runs her hand through her hair, impatiently waiting for his answer. And there is no ring on her finger. "You're not wearing your ring."

She stares at him for a moment. She watches guilt fill his eyes.

"No." Her eyes fall to the ground.

"What happened? Was it…" Henry trails off. It's funny how prude he's accidentally become. He can have sex with her, and he can cum to images of having sex with her. But he can't say that he's done it out loud.

"Yes." She gives him another one-word answer. Although, she supposes it's much more nuanced than a simple yes.

"I'm sorry." They dissolve into silence. What is there to say between them? Two lovesick teenagers had set them up, but they were real. What was between them was a tangible kind of love. And maybe that never truly goes away?

"It's not on you, Henry." She tells him because it isn't. The end of her marriage was her decision. Steven had offered to stay. To try harder. But she wanted out. "I know you think divorce is a sin, but it is not yours to carry."

"I don't know what I believe anymore." His admission startles her. Henry had always been so sure. She thinks for a fleeting moment about lightening the mood. Maybe to crack a joke about the cliche of the priest who loses his faith. But somehow, that seems like the wrong thing to do.

"What do you mean?" Her voice is softer. Her body language shifts as she becomes more open as she lets herself care about his plight.

"Do you remember when you told me that believing in god was too easy?" She nods. It was their first extensive conversation. The one that took them from classmates to lovers in the span of five hours. She knows those weren't her exact words, but it was her point. "You had said that humans invented God because we're anxious by nature, and we needed to explain the unexplainable."

"But maybe we just let the unexplainable be." She cuts him off. Those were her words.

"The older I get, the less I can explain and… the less I believe. Not that God doesn't exist, but more in the sacrifices I have made in his name."

"That must be awful." She can see the trauma of it written on his face.

"I tried to leave. Laicization is what it's called. But it has to be approved by the Vatican… And mine wasn't… I could still leave… but the idea of voiding all of my sacraments… of never being able to receive the Eucharist again… no last rites…" he trails off, and Elizabeth instinctively grabs his hand. "How am I supposed to give that up when I have nothing to replace it with?"

"I asked myself the same question for ten years," Elizabeth admits. "I'd lay in bed at night after a day full of child-rearing, cleaning, and feeding my family. I'd lay there next to a man who didn't even care enough to ensure I finished before he rolled over and went to sleep. But I'd say, at least he's here. At least he takes the kids to the waffle house on Saturday so I can be alone for an hour. But Henry, I wasn't happy. I'm not saying it was easy to walk away because we did love each other in ways. He gave me the kids that I would die for, that I would kill for. And for that, I will love Steven forever. But he didn't make me happy. And the night I watched him walk out of our house. I was relieved. I was comforting my sobbing daughter and pissed-off son and was still so relieved. I replaced it with my happiness and my peace."

He takes a breath. That's not something he has considered—his happiness.

"And you're happy now?" He asks, and she smiles a small smile.

"Content anyway. You should find some of that. Contentment." She says before squeezing his hand and walking away. There is no goodbye said between them this time. For one reason or another, they both know this moment is the opposite of a goodbye.

…X…X…X…

Six months have passed since that day. Henry never did make it back to Pittsburgh. He has officially lost his clerical state and excommunicated himself from his church. And he does still think of it as his church. He was looked at with pity by his Bishop. Henry couldn't explain that his decision was not due to a crisis of faith. He didn't have one. He could go line by line through the Nicene Creed and say that he genuinely believes those main dogmatic principles of Catholicism. His choice to leave wasn't a crisis of faith. He had found that it was a mental health crisis. He knew that when his thoughts became dark and constant. He wanted to be dead instead of lonely. Dead instead of alive. His choice became risking eternal separation from his God or leaving and hoping to make it up to God by making good choices by remaining a good person.

But he's content now. Thanks to his father, who did take his own life. His father and a very kind psychiatrist, and a short, impatient stay in a hospital. He's content. Happy even most days. Except on Sundays. When he goes to mass, the 7:00 AM one, he sits, watches, prays, sings, kneels, and then can't take the Eucharist. He knows that he did the best thing for himself, his sanity, and his health. But he knows a slight pain will always hit him as he kneels, unable to partake, knowing that it was his own choice to void his sacraments.

He knocks softly on her office door. He waited to speak with her. He wanted to make sure he was in a healthy place first. He wanted to be sure that he didn't leave just for the possibility of them. Because there might not be one, but he's ready to try because he is content with his decision to leave.

"It's outside of office hours," her stern voice answers his knock.

Henry pops his head in the door anyway. "Can you make an exception for me?"

He doesn't know where the slight flirty tone came from, but it feels right. Especially when he sees the smile on her face as her eyes get shiny.

"Yes, I can" Henry steps into her office and closes the door behind him. She rakes his body with her eyes. Maybe it starts as an instinctual sexual action but shifts into something else when she notices how light he seems.

"You look good?" Her inflection implies her question in the observation.

"I am good. Really good."

"You left?"

"I did… It was hard. But I did." She smiles at him.

"Are you happy?" She needs to know. She's desperate to know that he found his happiness alone like she did. So maybe they can try again.

"I'm happy."

"I'm glad you are." They look at each other, but there's a heaviness that he wants to shed. Her eyes go shiny again. He knows she's waiting on him. She wants to be wooed after years of feeling unloved and unwanted.

"Can I buy you dinner?" He takes the risk.

"On Friday when Steven has the kids." She doesn't hesitate. She knows what she wants. And, like him, it's for herself. It's for them both. It's for the future.

…X…X…X…

He's not nervous. Maybe he should be. He has never felt this comfortable and comfortable with himself around another person. He remembers his thoughts and feelings after the last time they were together. He wonders if she remembers if she had similar thoughts. He may not remember how to date, not properly anyway. But he knows Elizabeth. He's cursed with the knowledge of her. Or blessed with it. That detail doesn't matter. It's enough that he has her. Enough that she has him.

He wants to woo her, though. She deserves it. He made reservations. And he bought flowers. He dipped into his post-vow of poverty savings and bought a suit that fits him just right. She will be surprised. Maybe she'll laugh, and that will be a good thing because her laugh is one of his favorite sounds.

His soft knock on her door makes her heart flutter with excitement. She took her time getting ready for him. It was the first time in a long time that she wanted to look good for someone. The feeling was girlish and almost foreign. But the four hours' worth of showering, shaving, hair, and makeup. And the five dresses she tried on were more than worth it. She looks good. She's glowing even. And she wants to take her time with him, like the time they had before. She's going to let him take his time. She knows he's a patient man. A patient, attentive man.

"Hi," she opens the door, smiling. He looks at her, and his smile grows wide. Her smile is as wide as his.

"For you," He holds up the vase filled with white and red roses. Red for love and white for new beginnings.

"Thank you. They are beautiful. Come in." She steps aside and motions him in.

"You look beautiful," He tells her, and a blush creeps onto her cheeks.

"Thank you," she responds, her eyes moving to appraise him the same way he is her. He does indeed look good. Better than good.

He offers her his arm, and she takes it, ready for dinner with a man who actually wants to talk to her. It's been years since she has felt like this. He seems so different.

…X…X…X…

Dinner had been everything she could've imagined and more. The easy way they fell into conversation like old friends always did, was beautiful. Together she and Henry always make something beautiful. Inviting him back to her place was the easiest thing she's ever done. She doesn't want their night to be over. If she didn't think it was crazy, she's say she wants to spend every night with Henry.

Elizabeth shivers with butterflies as Henry's hand brushes her hair out of her face. His lips touch hers almost chastely. There's no need to rush this. She is almost his. He knows that. The anticipation has built, and he is savoring the moment. He wants it to last as long as possible.

He looks into her eyes, "I can't believe how lucky I am to have this second chance with you. I know we have much to discuss, and I promise you I'll tell you everything. But right now, I want to love you like you deserve to be loved. Is that alright with you?"

Elizabeth smiles sweet and small. She had forgotten what being wanted like this felt like. She grabs his hand and leads him into her bedroom.

He is on her the second she closes the door behind them. His kisses are slow and intentional. It feels like they are communicating without words, and Elizabeth is captivated by it.

Henry's kisses start out tentative and gentle, but the longer he kisses her, the more aggressive he becomes. Elizabeth is powerless to do anything except react to his lips and tongue. Her body's response is so much more than physical. She has never felt this way before. It's like her heart and soul are wrapped in his arms.

"I want to touch you. Listen to you. Feel you. Taste you." Elizabeth nods and allows Henry to remove her clothing. She watches as his eyes rake over her body, pausing at her breasts before making their way lower. It makes her feel like a Renaissance painting, fully displayed to Henry's appreciative gaze.

She watches as his hands caress the length of her arms. Her breathing picks up. His eyes lock with hers before he drops to his knees and starts at her ankles, his hands gliding up her legs. His touch is soft and causes goosebumps to appear.

"You are so fucking beautiful." His raspy words send a jolt of want to her core. It has been so long since someone has called her beautiful. It brings a lump to her throat that threatens to ruin the moment.

"Are you okay?" He looks up at her when her breath shudders. She is struck by how beautiful he is. Henry is a beautiful man, truly.

"Yeah, it's just..." she stops and looks down at him on his knees in front of her, "I've forgotten what this feels like. How good it feels to be with you. And now you're here, and I just... I didn't realize how much I needed this."

Henry stands and wraps Elizabeth in his arms. He rests his chin on the top of her head.

"Lay down. Let me love you. We have all the time in the world."

Elizabeth does as Henry instructs, laying back on the bed. Henry crawls up the bed to lie beside her.

"We have a lifetime to make up for lost time."

Henry's lips attach to her neck, his tongue stroking her pulse point. A sigh escapes her lips, and she tilts her head back. He continues to kiss down the front of her, stopping briefly to suck on each of her nipples. He loves the sound of her breath as her body reacts to his touch. It's the sweetest song he has ever heard.

"You like that? Do you like that I'm making you feel this way?" Henry looks up into Elizabeth's face.

She nods. Her face is flush. She can feel herself getting wetter and wetter as his hands and mouth work their magic on her breasts.

His kisses start moving down her stomach, pausing briefly to dip his tongue into her belly button.

"Henry, I want your mouth. Please," she says, squirming and trying to push her hips toward his mouth.

"All in good time, babe. You have to let me do this right. I want to taste every inch of you."

His hands massage her thighs, and her legs fall open. His breath blows over her most sensitive area, and Elizabeth's body jerks at the sensation. Her mind is so in tune with her body. She wants him fully and unabashedly. He runs his hands over her inner thighs and uses his thumbs to spread her lips, allowing his tongue to graze her clit before pulling away.

"You taste so good." Elizabeth gasps and arches her back off the bed. She needs him to touch her there again. He slowly inserts two fingers into her very wet center. She can feel herself squeezing him, begging for more.

Henry watches her, letting his thumb graze her clit lightly every five or so thrusts. Her hips are starting to grind in a rhythm of her own.

"Tell me what you want. Let me hear what you need." His voice is raspy.

"I... I... I just need you." He has never heard a more beautiful sound than the way her voice sounds at that moment, breathy and full of ecstasy.

He continues to watch her, her eyes open and staring at him, pupils blown wide with want. Her legs start to quiver. Henry is not surprised when Elizabeth orgasms. He doesn't remove his fingers, but his tongue takes over where his thumb was. He can feel her coming all around his fingers once again, not even a minute later, her juices drenching him.

"Oh my god," she gasps, grabbing the sheets in her fists. It has been so long since she came like that, let alone like that twice. She feels herself falling into a state of relaxation.

Henry climbs up the length of her body, leaving a trail of kisses on his way up. Her eyes are closed, and she has the most contented look on her face. His lips hit hers, and she moans as she tastes herself on him.

"I think that's the hottest thing I've ever seen," he says when she opens her eyes and looks at him.

She smirks and says, "And what did you think of when you were watching me?"

"How lucky I am that I got to make you feel that good. How much I want to see you come undone for me. How I love that you are all mine."

Elizabeth looks at him, wondering if she is dreaming. Here is the man who has haunted her dreams for so long, telling her he wants to make her come undone for him.

"Make me come undone for you." She kisses him.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He enters her slowly. Her body is still sensitive from two orgasms, and she can't help but whimper at how full she feels.

"I want this to last forever," he says, kissing her lips again. She wraps her legs around his waist.

He thrusts gently into her, and she sighs. It feels so good. The feelings and sensations are amplified because he is staring into her eyes. More than just their bodies are connected. They have been waiting for this moment for so long. They can finally be together without fear or doubt. They don't have to worry about a past or a future. They only need to focus on this moment.

"I'm sure I've been more in love with you than right now," Elizabeth whispers. Her admission feels crazy, and maybe it's just the oxytocin talking, but she still loves this man.

Henry grunts at the statement, his eyes still locked with hers.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispers, picking up the pace slightly. He knows it won't take much for him to cum, but he wants this to last for both of them.

She rocks her hips up, meeting his every thrust.

"Do you think you have one more in you? I want to feel you cum for me again," Henry asks.

Elizabeth is taken by surprise, not once, not twice, but three times. Being with him really is close to heaven. "Yeah, I think so. I want to feel you too."

Her voice is strained. Obviously, he is pushing her body to its limit, and she loves it. Every drawn-out lovely second of it. His hand reaches between them, and he lightly circles her clit.

Elizabeth comes undone under his touch. Her eyes close as she lets her body ride out the sensation. She can feel him coming with her, inside her. His grunt in her ear makes her feel comfortable and confident. She loves making him feel just as good as she does. He cares that she feels good. He cares that she is there with him. He cares about her.

He pulls out and collapses beside her. Elizabeth moves her body against his, allowing their naked bodies to touch in all the ways she missed. Their bodies fit so well that it's as if they were made for each other.

They lie quietly together, just breathing and basking in the moment.

Elizabeth looks up at the ceiling. A tear rolls down her face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just… Wow." Elizabeth says, still in disbelief that this is all happening.

"Wow, what?" Henry asks, taking her hand in his.

"You. Us. This. This moment. Do you think it's fate? You and me?" She is still trying to make sense of the situation. Henry is quiet for a second, considering her question.

"Yes," He finally settles on the affirmative. They are fate. They always were, and they always will be. He leans over to kiss her softly. He takes his time with her lips, not wanting to rush the moment.

"I love you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth takes his face in her hands, "And I love you. So much."

They have a lot to figure out. They both know it won't be easy. Building them won't be simple. It would've been thirty years ago, but not now. They know that now they have to work at it. The love is still there. The love is stronger. And together, they will overcome whatever is thrown at them.

They are the missing puzzle pieces to each other's hearts. And their story is just beginning.