87: Already

Jesse

     Marie finds a set of fresh sheets for Pam and Simon's bed. I'd planned on simply sleeping on the couch, but I guess the bed is okay too. She puts the ones she took off in the washing machine, already starting up the load so the ones that were on it before can be clean before they get home.

      She's so good at all this. How much did she do for everyone while she still lived with her parents? Why is watching her doing this making me hard as a brick wall?

     I worry about Pam, but I know there's nothing more I can do except be here for her son and niece. And they're sound asleep…

     "I suppose I can sleep in my clothes," Marie muses.

     "I like you sleeping naked better," I counter.

     "What if Adele needs something?"

     "I'm sure she's used to things going bump in the night at her house."

     "What about Jer-jer?"

      I love how she does her J's.

     "He's a toddler. He won't care," I point out and reach for the waistband of her shorts. They're in danger of ripping if she doesn't let me remove her clothing otherwise.

     "Jesse, you seriously want this now? Here?" she asks as I strip to nothing.

     "All the time anywhere," I answer quickly and pull her shirt off her. I need her, especially after hearing all that about what's-his-face. And she acts like she needs reminding. I can do that.

     Oh, that's better. Dammit, I love that she rarely wears a bra.

     I push her down onto the freshly-made bed and lay her back before removing her shorts and panties. A grin flits across my face before I playfully put them up to my nose and give them a long, hard sniff. Marie mumbles something to herself. I don't hear exactly what she says, but I do catch the word 'freak.'

     After tossing her panties on the floor, I loom over her and ask, "What was that? Are you calling me a freak, ma Marie?"

    "You called yourself that once, so yes. I have to agree with you," she responds with one eyebrow cocked.

     I get surprised by the shudder that runs through me as my mind tells me all the 'freakish' things I could do to her just to prove how right she is. Still, I have to wonder how she'd handle it.

     "I might just have to live up to that," I tell her and move my middle finger to press down on her clitoris before moving it in a slow circle. She squirms and moans, but I don't let her stop me. Instead, I press harder while my tongue runs up the side of her face.

     "Jesse, please," she quickly gets out.

     "Begging already?" I question in mock surprise. She tries to move her hips to the side in order to get them away from my hand, but I merely follow her. I put my knees on either side of her thighs so she can't move any farther. She whimpers, and I say calmly, "Being the 'freak' that I am, I'm just getting started." I love this. It's so simple, yet she still fights to keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head.

     "I thought… you wanted…"

     "What's that?" I ask and lick the other side of her beautiful face. I grin like I'm reading a script and ask, "What was it I wanted?"

     "To fuck," she pants.

     "Marie, I'm shocked at such language," I tell her, and she moans. "But yes, I do want to fuck you. Hard." She has no idea what I'm capable of.

     Her nails dig into my arms, and I lean down to take a nipple into my mouth, happily suckling her. She breathes rapidly, and her head starts moving back and forth like she's fighting it. So, I lightly bite her.

     She cries out, and I immediately pick my head up to warn, "Gotta be quiet, remember. No yelling here."

     She whispers, "You're making me insane."

     "Good. That means it's working."

     "But I can't stay quiet if you are," she breathes out, her hands fisting themselves in my hair.

     "Should I gag you?" I ponder, and she gasps.

     "No!" she quietly exclaims before letting a whimper slip out. She wants me to speed the movement of my hand, but I'm having too much fun just as it is. Then, she proves to me how much of her mind can still be occupied by thought as she reasons, "Besides, if you did, how could I kiss you?"

      "My mouth will be occupied elsewhere." My tongue takes over from my fingers, and Marie takes in and lets out a shaky breath. "Hush," I whisper against her then go back to languidly pleasuring her.

      I have to hand it to her, she tries to be quiet. She puts forth an effort, but she also begs me to stop the slow torment. My entire body screams at me to give her what she claims she wants, but I enjoy torturing myself every bit as her. This need, this anticipation of having her fuels my wild thoughts and makes me ache, but the burning desire also has its own euphoric effect, causing me to prolong the fantastic agony.

     Marie grabs a pillow and, shoving it into her face, screams into it. I groan, knowing she can feel the vibrations of the sound on my lips, and I go lower, pressing my tongue hard on that soft, slick sweet spot. Marie was made for this; she's perfectly designed.

      Her entire body starts quaking, but I don't want her to come. Not yet, so I grind almost to a halt.

     "Jesse, please!" she quietly and fervently begs. I look up and watch as she fondles herself in hopes of giving herself enough stimulation; it's so fucking hot and makes resisting her all the more excruciating.

      I shock her when I suddenly flip her over, and her arms reach up for the top of the mattress while her head comes up in question. My erection presses against her fantastic ass as I loom over her to ask quietly into her ear, "Something you need, Marie?"

     She whines and asks, "What are you trying to prove?"

     I ponder my answer before I say, "It's the journey, not the destination." Reaching down, I insert two fingers into her wet center before slowly pressing them forward, letting the weight of her own body add to the pleasure. My fingers massage her with deliberate slowness while I kiss her down her back, and they go deeper when my lips reach her ass. Baring my teeth, I bite her and drive those digits deep inside, finding her g-spot, and she once again starts shaking.

      "No. No, don't do it," I warn when she gets very close, and she cries out while willing her body to obey my command. I have to cover her mouth when she cries out again, and I still my hand inside her.

      Marie whimpers, and I turn her over before shocking her as I roughly enter her. Sweet bliss envelopes me as that action alone pushes her over the edge, and I sigh as her hips move beneath me. A small movement from me sets her off again, and once more, her incredible tightness adds to my delicious suffering.

      I did say hard, I remind myself as I pull out a great deal only to slam back down into her. Expecting it, I once again cover her mouth, muffling her cry.

     Holy fuck she's so damn tight I can't stand it! I scream in my head as I fight for control. I've never in my life met a woman like Marie, and I love how she unconsciously tests me.

     My arms start shaking now, and I have no more desire to hold back like I've done every other time I've made love to Marie. Pushing myself up on my trembling arms, my hips rock deeper into her, and I look down at her to see her eyes half-lidded and her head turned to the side. A single finger of hers absently plays with her lips, and my heart feels too big for my chest as I collapse on top of her, wrapping my arms around her torso and kissing her wildly.

      'Don't leave me. Please don't leave me,' my lips wordlessly beg, remembering our discussion of her lingering feelings for that asswipe Dawson. I ignore my surging need for a few more moments while she kisses me back with as much passion as she can pull together. Then, no longer able to fight it, I lift back up on my arms again and watch her expression as I swiftly start pounding myself into her. The springy mattress underneath us rebounds her up into me just as I push her back down.   Realizing she can't move on her own, she tries to hold onto my shoulders before her hands slide off me and land with a thump back upon the bed.

      Everything I'd done previously has made Marie incredibly wet, and I take full advantage of that as I fuck her harder than I've ever done, enjoying the freedom of not holding back. My eyes watch her as she becomes more acquainted with a rougher side of me. She closes her eyes and lets me have complete control. Fuck, yes.

     Gotta be quiet, I remind myself like I'd reminded her earlier, and I feel a slight tremor coming from her every time I press her back into the mattress.

      Now! I mentally cry out as I pour myself into her, digging her hard into the springs of the mattress with the force of my orgasm. She whimpers, and I momentarily worry I've hurt her. But my efforts to regain control of my own body's reaction to her fail, and I pump several more times into her before finally finding calm relief.

     No. Condom, I think vaguely, and even though I don't consciously admit it, in the deepest parts of my psyche, I know why I didn't use one.

86: Unfinished Business

Armand Blanc

     This was the worst Christmas ever. Everything is so empty!

     'Why are you sitting here doing nothing?' my inner voice asks me, and I don't know how to answer it. I contemplate why while I pour myself another glass of merlot.

      My eyes look at the reflection in the window of the newly-placed stairwell to the floor above. The previous owners of this old house let the upper level go to rot, and I've been paying to have it renovated. At first, I'd hoped to make it so that my future children could have a place to play on rainy days, but that was when I'd hoped for a future with Marie.

     Marie.

     She left! I still can't believe she didn't take me back after that ass Dawson cheated on her. I had absolutely nothing to do with that, and still, she treated me just like the other two.

     'You let her go too easily.'

     There was nothing I could've done to change her mind.

     'You didn't even try.'

     I was angry.

     I know that if I'd begged her to stay, she'd still have left. She never even had the decency to tell me she was leaving. I had to hear it from Andy. And I think he only told me in a last-ditch effort to keep her from leaving since he wants her for himself. If she'd stayed because of me, he could still have a chance to try and steal her from me.
     I stand up and walk around my sofa to place the glass on the table. I don't need it; I need to think.

     Well, Andy is touring with his new band, so even if he'd have gotten her back, he'd be leaving her alone all the time anyway. She's too good for that.

     She's not coming back. It's been too long. I need to act.

     I pull out my phone and book a hotel reservation on Sunlit Tides. Then, I check for a flight. I'll hire a private jet if that's what it takes.

     This has gone far enough; it's insane.

------------------------------------------------

Pamela

     I feel like I've been run over by a cement truck.

     My eyelids try to resist being opened, but I fight them anyway.

     "Baby?" I hear Simon ask in a somewhat-hoarse voice. He holds my hand, and I notice an IV in my other one.

     I'm in the hospital, I realize with a deep, horrified breath.

     "It's okay, baby. I'm here. You're going to be fine," my husband's loving voice croons to me, and my heart breaks because I know what his tone means.

     I don't try to stop the tears as the sobs pour out of me.

     The baby is gone. I lost it. He doesn't have to tell me. I know.

     Simon sits on the bed next to me and wipes my face with his free hand even though the tears keep flowing.

     "I'm sorry," I cry to him.

     "It's not your fault. How could it be your fault?" he gently asks. "Don't be ridiculous."

     Oh, but it is. The desperate look on Ashley's face -- even if it was Ashley -- I couldn't stand the sight of anyone suffering. I overdid it. I tried too hard, and it didn't work. That man is going to die because I couldn't save him. I tried so hard! I have never fought such a difficult tumor or anything like it. Doing so drained me worse than anything I've ever experienced. When I failed, she cried and cried. I tried to comfort her, but she reacted in anger, expelling me from the room and slamming the door closed in my face with a simple wave of her hand. It felt like something had hooked me behind my navel and pulled me backwards. I only had one night to rest in the hotel before I had to fly back home to be back in time for Christmas.

     Losing the baby could be a coincidence, but I highly doubt it.

     "Because I tried too hard," I tell him simply. He didn't like the idea of me going to help that traitorous bitch, but he admired my desire to help someone who asks for it. Ultimately, he let me make the decision. We'd decided to keep it from my brother and niece.

     "Baby, these things happen. It's not because of anything you did or didn't do," he says in a calm voice. I can tell he'd been crying before. It still shows in his eyes, but now, he's calm.

     "What kind of healer am I that I can't even keep myself from miscarrying?"

     "And how were you to do that unconscious?"

     "I should've done something before it started. I should've known that was no ordinary exhaustion."

     "Done something? With what strength?"

     Feeling useless, I hiccup out, "I don't know."

     He lets me cry for a few minutes before he says, "Listen to me. Yes, this is bad. This is awful, but for a while there, I thought I'd lose you. And I can't live like that. That's worse than awful, worse than anything." His lips lightly touch mine like he's afraid he'll break me if he kisses me too hard.

     I close my eyes in defeat, knowing I can't win this discussion. He was really scared. I can see it written all over his face. He aged overnight.

     "I'm sorry for scaring you," I whisper.

     His lower lip trembles for a split second while he forces a smile. Then he says, "Don't make a habit of it, okay?"

     I nod and close my eyes again, pretending to rest for his sake.

     Inside, I'm seething.

     This is Ashley's fault, and she will pay.

85: It Matters

Marie

     I put Jeremy in his crib once we get to Pam and Simon's house. The little guy had passed out asleep the second Jesse put Martha in drive.
     He has a tiny room; it reminds me of the little room I had at Mom and Greg's house. Xavier and my one-time step-brother DeMarco shared a bigger room. I liked my little space until Benjamin was born. They stuck his crib in my tiny room. I used to spend one week with Dad and then one week with Mom, and she and Greg said I could be a big help with the baby in my room. I felt even more shoved to the side, like Ben the baby was sharing a room with me instead of the other way around.
      I turn around and see Jesse looking at me with a goofy look on his face. He looks enormous in here, like a giant in a dollhouse.

     My hands silently motion for Jesse to back out of the toddler's room.

     "Okay," he whispers and holds his hands up in surrender as he backs out.

     Adele stands in the hallway, and I'm somewhat surprised to see her in a nightgown. I didn't know she had clothes here.

     "I'll just go to bed since Jer-jer's asleep too. Goodnight." She surprises me again when she hugs us both, but I don't let it show.

     "Night, kiddo," Jesse says and playfully ruffles her hair.

     My heart melts, and I can't help but imagine how good a dad he could be with our kids someday. He'll be the playful kind of dad that, in my mind, all kids want. I blink back a tear with how much I like the idea of him being the father of my future children.

     'See? You don't need Dawson,' my mind throws at me. At first, I think it's a helpful thought, but then I wish I hadn't have even thought about him at all. That tainted a wonderful moment.

     Dawson's getting married. He's going to help create little Cristina spawn.

     The two of us still in the hallway, Jesse stands behind me and winds his arms around my waist, and he kisses the back of my neck before he asks, "How are you so good at this?"

     I smile. "I took care of my brothers all the time."

     "And I'll bet you did a great job. You're a natural." His mood alters with an intake of breath, and his hands start roving around me. They turn me around to face him, and his mouth descends on mine, claiming it hungrily.

     "Jesse!" I hiss in a whisper. "We are babysitting!"

     He whispers back, "And they're in bed." His hands cup and massage my behind.

     "We have to behave ourselves!" I gasp when his fingers reach between my legs and move forward farther than I expect, and they start moving in small, torturous circles. "Jesse, please," I whimper quietly.

     "Marie, you make me crazy for wanting you all the time anyway, but watching you just now…" He finishes his statement with another deep kiss.

     'I'll bet he's better in bed than Dawson could ever be anyway.'

     Shut up! Stop it! Dawson's a pig.

     'Exactly. You don't need him. After all, he apparently doesn't miss you one bit judging from how quickly he got engaged to Cristina once you left.'

     I gasp from the pain of that thought. Still, I realize that that's what hurts so much, that the two of them got engaged so quickly. Did he ever really love me, or was I simply a backup plan after we both thought that Cristina had left for good to live in Riverview?
      Jesse's posture stiffens up after my last gasp. Please think that was a good gasp from something you did and not because my mind keeps wandering. He pulls back to look down at me.

     "Something wrong?" he asks. I sense him willing me to look at him, but my eyes hide from his.

     I wish he hadn't have asked that. Biting my lip, I study the floor, wishing I could think of something to say to answer his question.

     Silently, he takes my hands and leads me into the living room before wordlessly gesturing for me to sit with him on the sofa. I plop down on a cushion, and he walks around me to carefully take a seat and wrap his arm around my shoulder.

     "Talk to me. Something's up. Is it still about the bracelet?" he asks, his eyes searching my face, desperately trying to read me. He does a better job at that than he knows. Dawson and I had been friends for about a decade, and he still didn't guess my moods correctly.

     "No," I tell him, happy that I can at least tell him that.

     "Then what?"

     I sigh. How do I tell him this without him taking it personally?

     "I talked to my family this morning," I start.

     "Don't tell me you're going back," he quickly interjects in a panicked way, his mind jumping to a false conclusion. Something inside me relaxes with the knowledge that he doesn't want me to leave. I didn't think he did, but it's nice to know for sure.

     "No. They're coming here actually, but-"

     "Huh? When?"

     "I do not know. It depends if my brothers can miss school and if my mother's doctor says it's okay for her to travel."

     "All of them?" His eyes grow wider, something I didn't think possible from his already panicked expression.

     "Well, yes, but this isn't what's bothering me." I hope to get him to calm down about my family coming. I don't need that compounding with what I'll have to tell him in a minute.

     "No. Why should it bother you?" he asks, stressing the 'you' ever so slightly.

     I sigh. Maybe I shouldn't tell him about Dawson. I've given him enough to process for now. Telling him about the other will just make it worse.

     I reach up to lightly pet his face and decide to try to stick with this topic. "Do you not want to meet my family?"

     "Um. Well. It's not like I don't want to not meet them because well, it's bound to happen eventually, but…"

     My brow creases in confusion.

     He changes the subject. "Tell me what's bothering you then."

     I wilt, slouching where I sit. That didn't work. "I don't want to tell you. I don't want you to worry."

     "Too late. You mentioned worry. Now, I'm worried." His eyes dart across my face, showing the thousands of fleeting thoughts as he has them. I wish I knew him well enough to accurately guess what he's thinking.

     "It's my problem; let me deal with it," I say gently, hoping that stops his curiosity but knowing it probably won't.

     He backs his head up and fixes me with a stunned stare for several seconds before he finally speaks. "Um, Marie? Do you know what that sounds like?" He swallows. "'Deal' with it? And it's not just your problem. I have to be wrong on this. It's very unlikely, but the way you said that-"

     "Jesse, I have no idea what you're talking about."

     I hope for him to clarify what he means, but he doesn't. "Go on then. Why don't you want to tell me?" he prods while reaching for me and pulling me across his lap.

     "Because it might hurt your feelings because you'd take it the wrong way," I tell him honestly.

     "Okay. It's something your family member told you. It's not about the bracelet even though you had a funny look on your face and acted a little strange there for a minute. It might hurt my feelings because I could take it the wrong way."

     I let him hold me while he continues to mutter the clues. Part of me hopes he figures it out on his own, but more of me wishes I could come up with a better way to do this.

     "Family member, hurt feelings: Is this about what's-his-name?" he guesses correctly, and I hide my face in his neck. "Some lame-ass TV show… Dawson. That's his name. Is this about him?" he asks after muttering again.

     I don't answer him.

     "Marie?" he asks. Then, his voice sounds clipped. "Is it or isn't it?"

     I let out a huff. "It is, but it's stupid. It doesn't matter anyway."

     "If it doesn't matter, then why are you upset?"

     "I'm not upset," I say quickly in order to buy some more time.

     He sighs quickly. "Fine. Not upset. Agitated, bothered, distracted."

     "Because it doesn't matter! Why should I care?!" I quietly exclaim, remembering the sleeping toddler.

     "Did he break up with her and is coming here for you?" he asks, and his arms tighten around me.

     "No," I answer succinctly.

     Jesse pauses, thinking. I guess he didn't expect me to say no. His arms slowly loosen their grip.

     "Why don't you just tell me? What? Did he ask her to marry him?"

     Oh no. "Oui," I cry and fist Jesse's shirt in my hand, holding it tightly.

     He gets quiet. I know why he's not talking. His feelings are hurt, and he doesn't want to let me see or hear it. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid, but I knew there was no way I was going to hide it from him for long.

     "It doesn't matter," I whisper and kiss him along his jaw. He stays completely still, and it breaks my heart that he's hurting.

     "Apparently it does," he says with a gruff voice.

     "No. He's a pig. I love you, Jesse." Look at me! I grab his jaw to jerk his face in my direction. The hurt in his eyes kills me when he lets me turn his head, and I want to hide again. I force myself to hold his gaze anyway.

     "You have always avoided answering me directly when I've asked you if you still love him. Do you still love him, Marie?" His eyes burn into mine.

     "He hurt me. I love you," I answer quietly, hoping that will suffice.

     "Yes or no."

     I can't answer him! I desperately want to say no, but something holds me back.

     Answer him, Marie! Tell him no!

     But don't lie.

     He's dying inside! Don't hurt him!

     I feel my face screw up. "I don't know."

     His hands cover his face, and he gently gets out from under me to stand up. He's quiet while he walks over to stand near the big window in Pamela's reading area.

     "Jesse, this is why I didn't want to talk to you about this." My heart breaks for the pain he tries to hide. I wish I could figure out a way to fix it. This situation could get worse still... A sudden fear that he'll want to end our relationship shoots through me like a flaming arrow.

     "You told me," he says, but I don't think it's in response to what I just said. "You told me you needed time, and I didn't listen. I thought I could make you forget him, and I thought I had. I'd been warned, but I was too stubborn to listen."

     "You do make me forget him! I love you! I don't know why I'm making a big deal about this because it doesn't matter!" It doesn't! I jump off the couch and grab his shoulder, trying to get him to turn and look at me. He brushes my hand off him, and a small, hurt cry slips out of me.

     Suddenly, he turns around with a look of horror on his face before he traps me in his arms, holding me tightly. His large hand threads itself into my hair, holding my head as he says, "It does matter. You don't want it to, and you've been trying to tell yourself that it doesn't, but it does. At least you don't want it to matter." He sounds resigned, but I decide that's better than hurt anger. The fear that he'll break up with me slowly dissipates. "This is partly my fault. I didn't give you a chance to really get over him, and had I to do it all over again, I'd do the exact same damn thing because that's just how I am. You're not over him, Marie, not completely, and I wish you were because it drives me crazy!" His arms shake a little.

     I take quick, staggered breaths while I work on calming myself down. Right now, I don't care about anything else except that he's holding me, and I relax into him. Then, I think of something to say, "I want to be completely over him, like you say. Help me." Just don't give up on me, Jesse! I close my eyes while my head rests against his chest, and I soak up the secure feel of his arms around me.

     "Oh, you'd better fucking believe I'm gonna." He pulls me back for a second so he can look down at me, acting like he's about to say something else. Then, he changes his mind and kisses me hard instead. I let him. I need it.

Once upon a time...

   ...I was happily making pictures for a Jesse and Marie chapter when I was asked to stop for a minute. My life changed in that minute.
     I don't want to go into detail, but suffice to say, I have much less free time. The free time I do have, I spend writing books.
     My game takes eons to load, so that has kept me from getting the pictures for the next ten or so chapters I have written for this story. I have loads of crap I need to delete, hair mostly, that slows down my game, including loading time, but again, that takes time.

     Question: Would you as the readers prefer that I only post the chapters after I get the pics, or would you rather I just post the chapters sans pictures so that you could read the continuing story? I do plan on getting all the pictures eventually, but I could 'plan' until the cows come home and nothing would happen.

    At any rate, I do not want to stop writing this story. After all, I still have that "wonderful" scene when Jesse meets Marie's father eventually. Also, Marie has a surprise visitor. Desmond and Ginger make a major decision. We find out Pam's reaction to her miscarriage since she still hasn't awakened. My worry is that I'll only write and quickly end up with fifty or so chapters that are waiting to have pictures taken.
     I want your opinions. I've put up a poll, but I certainly wouldn't mind hearing exactly what you think.

84: Yeah

     On what I hope is a correct hunch, I dash into Adele's room. I can easily see her deciding to sleep in there.

     Empty.

     She's not here, I realize, and my heart rips in half as déjà vu taunts me.

     "No," I say to the empty house, and my hands fist in my hair.
     I call her cell, but it goes immediately to voicemail like she's turned it off… like she might have to do before a flight takeoff.

     Bryce, don't be crazy. The airport doesn't run at night. She's just turned off her phone. Maybe the battery died.

     I take in and let out a shaky breath.

     She promised! She promised she wouldn't do this!

     "Where are you going?"

     "Home."

     She's at her house.

     I hop into my car for the very short drive.

     The porch light isn't on. I knock on the door anyway.

     No answer.

     My fist starts pounding on the door, and I start yelling. The only one I might be bothering is Julian, maybe Maggie, but I hope they forgive the noise.

     "Erin! I know you're in there! Open the door!" Please be in there.

     I'll search the whole fucking island in the dark if I have to.

     "Erin! Open the damn door!" Pound pound pound.

     I blink in surprise as my jaw drops when the porch light turns on. She's here! The door opens.

     "What do you want?" she throws at me like little knives right into my heart.

     "When you said 'home,' I didn't think you meant here."

     "Well, obviously, you didn't want me around, so I thought I'd leave you be," she says nonchalantly and folds her arms in front of her in a defensive manner.

     "You… that I… what?" I ask, totally confused.

     For a second, a very hurt expression crosses her face. Then she quickly hides it. Jesse said she was upset. I thought he was just telling me something I already knew. Was I wrong and she's upset about something else too?

     "I thought I'd give you some time to yourself if you came home tonight at all. I didn't want to be in the way, giving you something else to worry about in addition to your sister. You don't need that, and you apparently don't want me around you today after… earlier," she explains with her lip occasionally trembling, and she bites it to make it stop when she finishes.

     "I…" Shit. My hands cover my face. It all becomes clear. She saw my attempt to keep myself from saying something stupid as me avoiding her. In a way, I was, but not how she thinks.

     "And you… didn't need my help at the hospital either, so I thought I'd get some sleep, but I couldn't sleep there."

     "I did need you," I say, my voice cracking once. "I thought you were mad at me, and I couldn't deal with that right then. And then, you said you wanted to leave, so I didn't want to make you stay when there's not much we can do anyway at this point. Simon told me I should go, so I came home, and you were gone, and I…" I can't say anymore.

     "Oh crap," she mumbles, and her slender arms wrap around my waist. "That didn't even occur to me. How could I be so stupid?"

     I move my hands away from my face and make better use of them by wrapping my arms around her. My face buries itself in her hair, and I relax for the first time in hours.

     "I'm sorry," she whispers.

     "Don't be. I understand. I was being an ass by not discussing anything with you. I worried I'd say something stupid, so I said nothing at all, and you interpreted that as me being upset with you."

     "But you were. I know you were." She turns a tiny bit and closes the front door.

     I kiss her face and take in a deep breath. "I was, but that's not exactly why I stayed upstairs all morning."

     "I'm sorry… that I thought that… that wasn't a pair of earrings," she stammers. "I'm sorry I… hurt your feelings."

     How do I ask this without having everything blow up again?

     "I didn't think about how the box would look to you." Crap. This is going to be awful, just awful. "Will there… ever be a time when getting a box that size wouldn't be a bad thing?" Hm. Actually not bad. I could've phrased it worse, but I didn't. I'd stressed the word 'wouldn't.'

     "In the future. Yeah," she answers in her precious voice, and I wilt with relief. 'Yeah' was all I needed to hear.