The night didn't necessarily go as planned. It went fine I guess, but it would be a stretch to call it successful.
Writing this, marking it down for posterity sake: my first night laying completely horizontal. I almost hate myself a little for it being such a victory. I feel reduced, not used to celebrating such small victories. A relatively pain-free day, or a day without Lily making me puke up the food I so desperately want to eat. Those are my victories now. I used to grapple and box at least twice a week, highest marks at the Academy in shooting and pace. Highest closing rate of all the detective squads in New York City. But now I'm reduced to celebrating over laying horizontal and not puking. Oh how the mighty fall.
After dinner, Dad had lingered late. So late we made up the spare bedroom upstairs for him. After leaving our embrace, he just kept staring at me, a proud glow painting his features. I haven't seen him that happy in years. The closest I've come to that look since Mom died was Rick and I's wedding, the second one. The one we pulled off last minute. Thank goodness Martha was there tonight to save with distraction, otherwise he might have fallen asleep staring at me like that. We had all headed in as darkness descended; Martha, Alexis, and now my Dad chatting incessantly as we all settled into the living room. By the end of the night, they had a nursery theme, a future babysitting schedule… everything all laid out. No input needed from either Rick or myself. Not that we would dare interrupt anyways. It was too early to put my foot down on anything yet. My app tells me Lily is only the size of a prune, too small yet to care about nursery colors and pet names. I'll care later, when my victories are larger and mean more.
Feeling exuberant from sharing the news, I convinced Rick to lower the bed all the way flat for the night. I had been lowering it by degrees these past few nights, a delicate dance of "how much does this actually hurt?". The last few nights I could feel Rick's frustration at not being able to wrap his arms around my battered body. As I got closer to horizontal, I would wake to his hand, sneaking over the constructed pillow barrier and under my tank top to rub gentle circles over the front of my pelvis, soothing the fluttering cramps of Lily's growth.
Last night was different. I had abandoned the pillow barrier, not needing it to keep my body from sliding from the angle. I wanted the closeness, I wanted to feel normal again. When his hand stretched over my body to protect Lily, I greeted it with my own. Lacing my fingers into his, I remember grimacing as I curled over my right shoulder, the crusting stitches stiff and biting, our hands landing clasped onto my hip, flirting with the edge of my sleep shorts. His eyes had fluttered open in confusion. Not only was I horizontal, but I was now laying on my side, a position I only gave to the physical therapist to gain better range of motion.
"Hi" I remembered saying, the only words that would break through my racing mind. God how I loved this man. Loved everything he had done for me, loved everything about him. "I missed you." I whispered to him, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose, the closest thing to my face.
"Missed me?" He had answered, still half asleep. He always took his time waking up, groggy and oh so easy to mess with.
"Yeah." I chuckled. "We haven't cuddled in weeks. I've missed you."
He had answered with the most adorable whine as he scooted closer, using the hand on my hip to latch onto my butt and thrust it into his pelvis. He couldn't hide the undertone of discomfort though. Sternum wounds are slow healers. I knew, from missing the lower end of mine. The muscles take forever to reform connections, and it's always the little things, like accidentally reaching too far forward or leaning, that aggravate it. He couldn't hide his boyish glee either. He was pressing me so close my nose was jammed into his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and just the hint left of cologne from his morning shower. His chin had tried to grind a hole into the top of my head as he worked the arm that was underneath him to be underneath me instead. My trapped arm remained between us, the fingers dancing an impatient pattern just above the waistline of his boxers. With his butt latch, he had freed my hand, so I echoed the motion thrusting his hips closer. We couldn't help ourselves, our hips leading the conversation as I tipped my head back to plant kisses up and down the parts of his neck and shoulders I could reach. He moved his head up and out of the way, supporting me as I leaned my chest back, catching a sharp breath as I stretched my core stitches to the point of discomfort. Looking into his eyes, I recall the sparks. The fire dancing in the depths of his love for me. His hips told mine just how much lust there was between us. I returned the look with a soft coy chuckle, glancing down as my hand started playing more earnestly with the waistband of his boxers.
He let out a soft groan as we rolled to horizontal, my magically swift hands pulling down his boxers as I rolled us, taking control on top of his large strong body. Straddling his wide hips, I had increased the tease by slowly rubbing my hands over my own body, peeling my tank top off slowly and methodically. Biting my lip in that way he loves, I maintained strict eye contact. He brought his own hands up to join mine, bracing them on either side of my ribcage as I leaned as far forward as I could, tossing my top across the room. Shifting my hips forward ever so slightly, I heard the involuntary moan of pleasure escape his lips as his eyes rolled back. My signature move, simple yet effective.
In the heat of the moment, I set my arms out to catch myself. I was supposed to plant my hands on either side of his head, rest my elbows in the lovely space his armpits create as he pulls my body into his. Use my hands to caress his cheeks as we passionately kiss our way to lovemaking. That was what was supposed to happen. But I forgot my shoulder muscles are still technically torn. As my right hand came down to the bed, my shoulder buckled. I collapsed in a piercing gasp of pain, injured shoulder first, into his chest. My bare breasts caught in the crusty and sharp remains of the stitches still adorning his chest. We both yelped at that point, his body jumping one way as I rolled painfully the other way, pain reverberating across my body, connecting my diagonal wounds as I tried to roll onto my back. Something had scraped the fresher set of stitches along my core, the raised ridges stinging. My pained panting wasn't helping either. Somehow in the shuffle, the sheets I had forgotten about caught up in our legs, adding yet another layer to the chaos.
We had laid there panting, pained and frustrated, trying to recover some form of dignity. It had not gone as planned. At all. I wouldn't even have called that successful. Damn it.
Lily gave a shuddering cramp that tweaked across my pelvis.
"Glad someone is enjoying the joke." I spoke down to her, gripping my lower abdomen slightly in reaction to the overall pain.
I had rolled over and curled up, just wanting to be alone. To sleep it off and forget that I had even tried.
She's beautiful. Radiant. Glowing. I'm not sure I can find the right adjectives to capture how amazing she is. This morning, the sunrise is attempting to provide competing beams of radiance, but to me, she glows brighter. She always will. Always.
I was up and moving much earlier than usual today. After our, or more like her, little attempted adventure a few hours ago, the lingering pull of my chest has kept me up. To be more accurate, it wasn't my chest at all, although it wasn't particularly comfortable. It was the nagging feeling that Kate would slip downward again. She was so frustrated. With herself, with the situation, with everything. She had wanted to cuddle, wanted to celebrate, wanted to be our passionate selves again. Not sure if I scratched her, or it just got lost in the shuffle of everything, but she was in a lot of pain when we rolled apart. I had tried to cuddle her back, hold her to infuse a sense of comfort. She had jerked away, rolling into a tight ball and squeezing her eyes shut. Frustrated Kate is a slippery slope down into Steely Withdrawn Kate. Was this event enough to initiate the slide down? The question had ramped my anxiety and kept me awake.
After fruitless examining of the ceiling, inspiration seized me and I made camp at my writing desk in the living room along the windows facing the beach. Times like this get me deeply engrossed. I forget where I am, who I am. Forget to move. Pound out a half a novel in one dizzy swoop. If only inspiration like this can hit when I actually have a chapter due…but whatever. With everything that has happened Gina and Black Pawn have been mercifully silent. And a fantastic shield from the press. Yes it didn't take long for news of our shooting to make the pages. I pay a PR team a huge amount of money to buffer, and buffer they did. Other than a stray reporter masquerading as food delivery back at the loft, we have been left alone. Just a few paragraphs announcing the incident, and that we were fine but taking some much needed time off, asking for privacy. Just as Kate needed. She hates the press, even on good days. Not sure how I'm going to deal with all of this once she does go back to work, once she starts showing…but we will deal with it, as it comes. I've found time to write a bit during our recovery, when not dishing out unwanted doting to Kate, or tending to my own needs. I'm grateful. Mostly for her. Always.
I got so deeply engrossed in my writing that I failed to notice the time, or that she woke alone. I failed to notice the fresh cup of coffee on the corner of my desk until it was lukewarm, a sheen forming on the top. Squeezing what warmth I could still find from it, I tipped the laptop off my numb legs. Somehow I still write best with my legs crossed sprawled up high on my desk, to the detriment of their blood flow. 7 am. Wow! I recall glancing at the clock when I started to write, 2:15 am. No wonder my legs were numb. Taking a tentative sip of the coffee, the cool temp intensifying the harsh bitter taste, I rubbed the blood reluctantly back, trying to recall what broke me out of the trance.
Oh right, her. My gorgeous glowing love. I stood, leaning against the edge of my desk until my legs stopped tingling. The first low beams of the sunrise tickled the careless chestnut waves of her hair that I could see from this vantage point, draped over the back of the patio chair. The top of her magnificent crown. A regal queen, but I know better than to say that out loud near her. Her form is a powerful magnet, a tractor beam pulling me out to her. Lumbering a bit, forgetting for a second that I have working legs and how to use them. Mother, Alexis and Jim are cozied up in the bedrooms upstairs, luckily still asleep, or with enough sense to leave us alone here in the first floor bedroom. This last glorious morning before returning to the city. And my love is greeting the day with fresh sunrise coffee. Gosh she is amazing.
"Good Morning." I stupidly stutter out, making my way around to the open chair. She is leaning her head back, face illuminated and open to the full beam of the sunrise, eyes closed, eyelashes dancing seductively.
"You're blocking my beam…" she whispers, keeping her eyes closed.
"Sorry…dear." I'm so entranced that I can barely speak, but I understand enough to plop down into the chair, not breaking my stare with her beauty.
We sit there for a few minutes, her looking like an angel, gathering strength from the light hitting her face.
"I can feel you staring." She finally broke, bringing her head back to neutral and turning toward me with those deep hazel eyes. It brings a simple smile to my face, a face I can feel melting hopelessly in love. She completely understands, answering with a silent chuckle and shake of her head. I hope she never changes, never gets used to my staring. I hope she responds like that forever. Always.
My trance is finally broken when she tops of my coffee. I hadn't realized I had carried my mug out with me, and she finished off the french press by filling both of our mugs.
"You know, this is the most coffee you can do during the day." Wow did I say that out loud, shoot. Having dealt with Meredith pregnant and read all the books and research I could get my hands on, I remembered that caffeine needed to be limited. And my coffee addicted love would have to be more mindful if we were going to have a healthy and non-hyper Lily. But I never intended to say it out loud, knowing that my Kate hated to be told what to do. Indeed she had answered me with one of her signature glares over a savoring sip of her own mug.
I tried to recover, "I know you know, just trying to help Lily….I guess." I trailed off before I dug a deeper hole for myself.
"You know, using Lily as a bargaining chip is a bit manipulative."
"I'll use whatever I can. I learned that from a brilliant interrogator." Whew, that felt like I raised out of the hole a bit. A little flattery goes a long way. She took the slight defeat, swallowing it down with another slow sip of coffee.
I watched her face open a bit, indication of her bettering mood. Victory. I still have the ability to make her smile no matter what.
With a heavy sigh she finally answered me, "I know. Might have to get a bit creative at the precinct. Keep up the charade of my coffee addiction until it becomes obvious."
"Want me to supply decaf beans?"
"Oh god no. You will be laughed out so fast. I won't be able to save you." Her stern countenance finally broke completely, loosening any remaining tension. "Do you want my reputation completely broken, Rick?"
I couldn't ask for a more glorious morning, the both of us finishing the last of the coffee, softly laughing off our worries. I never want this feeling to fade. Sometimes in the quiet moments, I look over to her and see the anguish, the blood pouring out of her wounds, the light fading from her eyes on the grass, or on our kitchen tiles. They make my heart clench. I never want to lose her. But days like this, I only see the joy. Those brilliantly straight teeth, the slight blush on her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. I want these moments to be stronger than the scary ones. Always.