Writer’s Note: I get inspiration in the shower. Of all places, you know? When you can’t grab a pen and write madly the scene in your head. But here is the second in the offering of shower thoughts (Forgive is the first). I guess the mention of Chris being single again brought it on. I didn’t see it as being a messy thing, because as far as I know he isn’t looking for a new President of the company. And besides, I was feeling really sappy when I wrote this.
He came in just as she was almost done packing, settling on the foot of their bed with an uncharacteristic quiet and watching her move. She turned around and started, but set the sweater in the suitcase. Next to it was a stack of folded shirts he’d already recognized as his. "I hoped you’d get home before I left," she said, pausing before turning back to the closet.
"I’m sorry I’m not the man you want me to be," he responded, his usual enthusiasm for life gone from his voice.
She paused at that and turned, dropping what she’d had in her hands, and moved swiftly to stand in front of him. "You were what I needed, Chris," she said gently. "I wouldn’t trade the last two years for anything."
He’d never told anyone she’d been raped, that he’d found her crying in her office three days after starting work for his clothing company. He’d offered her a sanctuary, and the fact that not even Justin, his closest confidant, knew anything about it simply made clear how much he loved her.
Their first six months had been completely sex free, something that had to be odd for him, but he’d never complained. And nothing had happened in that bed room until she initiated it, and even then he was cautious and almost afraid to touch her. He’d been so gentle, and that had done wonders for her recovery, probably even more than talking to the psychiatrist had.
"I’m sorry I’m not what you need now," he said softly. "I’m sorry that I couldn’t change to fit."
Her hand touched his cheek, then she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I know," she whispered, and turned back to pick up the sweater she’d dropped.
"Thank you, for not...." He paused, at a loss for words, his mind going in a million directions at once and for once he wished he weren’t so scattered, so unfocused. "For not bringing it up time and time again."
She smiled, knowing he couldn’t see her. He’d been pretty adamant about not being ready for a family, and she understood. He had two careers going, and he felt very strongly about family. He would have one when he wasn’t distracted by something else. "I wouldn’t do that," she told him, reaching for another sweater, only to realize it was his. "Besides, we pretty much agreed on that." But she’d changed. She didn’t know when, only that she’d seen small children in the store once when they were presenting his clothing line, and the yearning had taken her breath away.
"I know." His voice was remarkably steady, and he wasn’t sure why. He’d known she was leaving; that was why his luggage downstairs was well clear of the door, why he’d insisted that he go home instead of going out with the others. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t talked about it. He could still remember the look in her eyes when she’d looked from the small family to see him watching her. She’d blushed, but the look had been there. It had never quite gone away, but he couldn’t just decide on something that, in spite of their rival’s marriages and continued success, might ruin everyone else’s careers and dreams.
Her eyes scanned the closet, oblivious of his thoughts, and she came to the conclusion that very likely, she’d gotten everything. She folded the sweater she held and tucked it in, closing the suitcase gently. When she looked up, he was watching her with his dark eyes quiet, accepting, but sad. "Thank you," she told him. "You have done for me what no one else has."
He stood up and took the suitcase from her, following her down the stairs to her midnight blue Mustang parked out front. They’d argued countless times over the color; she insisted it was blue, and he had argued that it was black. He shook the thought away. He set her suitcase in the passenger seat because the trunk and the back were full of boxes. He guessed this was the last load; there was no way all of it had fit in that car. "Good bye," he said, and pulled her into a hug that ended far too soon because it hurt so badly to see her go. It had never been a question of love. He hoped, oddly, that she wasn’t hurting as bad as he was.
"I’ll see you the next time you’re at FuMan," she said with a smile, and kissed him one last time. He stood on the porch and watched her down the drive and until he could no longer see the car, then he turned and went inside. It didn’t take him long to pick up the phone, but he hesitated in dialing, then finally punched in a number he’d known for ever.
"Hello?"
He took a deep breath. "Lynn. Hi. Um... Do you know if Brit is home?"
There was a startled silence on the other end. "No, I’m sure she’s in Europe right now. Why?"
"I didn’t want to disturb J if he was with her," he explained shortly.
"I just talked to him, and it sounded like he was home alone. Are you okay?"
"Oh, sure. I just... need to talk to him for a minute."
"I’ll let you go, then," she said, and he hung up. Without a pause, he hit the first memory button, listening as the phone dialed faster than he could.
"Hey, J in da house, whatcho want?"
"Hey, Justin."
The silence at the other end was startled. "Chris?"
"Yeah. Um. You busy?"
"No, not really. Why?" Worried colored his younger friend’s words.
"I... I need to..." Words failed him. "Dani left," was what he finally decided on.
"I’ll be right there." He didn’t even say good bye before hanging up, and slowly, Chris returned the receiver to the cradle, completely unaware of the tears that tracked his face.
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