She was watching a European murder mystery with subtitles, so after he changed out of his uniform, he slid onto the couch behind her, curving himself around her body.
He’d forgotten how good it felt to hold a warm body against his. Not for sex, not for release, but for the warmth itself. For the soft, squishy goodness of a lover at rest. Having Kerry in his arms felt like how he saw Becca latch on to her favourite stuffed animals at bedtime for so many years.
He laughed at the image, a rumble from deep inside him, and Kerry turned enough to look at him. “What?”
“It’s silly.”
She paused her show. “Try me.”
“I was…” He trailed off. How to properly capture it? “I like holding you like this.”
“Mmm.”
“And it reminds me how kids cling to their teddy bears.”
She didn’t make a second appreciative noise.
He groaned. “I told you it’s silly.”
“I’m your teddy bear?” Her belly shook then, under his hand. “That’s…really sweet.” She turned around in the tight space on the edge of his couch. “But then you need to be my teddy bear, too. It’s only fair, right?”
Absolutely fair. And sweet? Hell, yeah. Dangerously, precariously on-the-edge-of-no-return kind of sweet. That didn’t stop him from nodding, though. Damn straight he was her teddy bear.
* * *
Kerry lovedevery minute of her two weeks at Owen’s house. She loved the way he always kissed her as soon as he saw her, like he wanted to consume her.
She let him every time.
There was an unspoken agreement between them now. This wasn’t forever. They didn’t talk about it like that. It was too fatalistic, somehow. And it missed the point. They’d both worked so hard to be honest about what they wanted, how much they liked each other, to pretend this wasn’t a full-blown affair with feelings and all.
Their feelings were very real. While she was caught up in this whirlwind love with Owen—and that’s what it was, for better or worse—she wasn’t going to diminish it by focusing on the fact it would need to come to an end one day. It was the most perfect thing in the world, if only for right now.
And it was so nice to share a bed, not needing to do the schedule comparison—in a two-pager relationship, one of them was invariably having to get up and sneak out in the middle of the night. Or crawl back into it just before dawn.
On one of those nights, when she thought she had to work, but then the labour was transferred to an OB for a c-section that went well, and mom and baby were tucked into a postnatal room at the hospital just after dinner, she texted Owen from the hospital in Walkerton.
Kerry: I’m coming back early! Do you want me to pick up dinner?
Owen: Yay! I can make something. But can you pick up condoms on the way? We’re running low.
She did a happy little skip.
Kerry: On it.
She stopped at the drugstore on her way out of town. They were probably close to talking about being fluid-bonded, but with Owen’s history, Kerry didn’t want to rely on pills alone for birth control. As she walked back to the cash register, the greeting cards caught her eye. Was there one that properly conveyedThanks for the Good Sex, and all the Super Real Feelings?
When she walked in the door at Owen’s house, it smelled suspiciously like he’d also made something for dessert. “What is that delightful smell?” she called out.
He strode out of the kitchen looking like a king.
“I made oatmeal cookies,” he murmured as he drew her close.
“Healthy dinner.”
“There’s a veggie tray in the fridge.”
“Balance is important.” She giggled as he helped her take off her coat, then dragged her to the kitchen.
