Fantastic. Crying during a shelter-in-place situation. Very professional.
“We should probably put us on ice,” I manage. Voice shaky. “Until this storm passes. And just focus on Ben.”
His jaw tightens. “Is that what you want?”
No. I want you to kiss me again. I want to finishwhat we started in the carriage house. I want things we can’t have while I’m employed here and your daughter is sleeping six feet away and half of Manhattan’s press corps are camped outside.
“It’s what’s smart,” I say instead.
He nods. “You’re right, of course.”
He doesn’t move. Instead, he leans forward, ever so slightly.
For a moment, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me.
And I hope for it.
Yearnfor it.
I lean toward him but, abruptly, he stands.
And returns to the window seat.
It’s what I wanted, after all.
I mean come on, it’s not like we could have sex right here in front of his daughter, who could wake up at any time.
So why does it hurt so much?
I guess because... it’s done.
We’re freezing whateverthisis.
Maintaining boundaries.
Protecting Ben, first and foremost.
Even though it feels like the worst thing I’ve ever done, pushing him away like that.
I curl deeper into the chair. Try to find a position that doesn’t make my neck ache. And fail spectacularly.
The hours crawl. I drift in and out. Have half-dreams where I’m running through the woods and Marco’s voice is calling my name but I can’t find him.
At some point I wake to find a blanket draped over me. Marco’s back on the window seat, silhouetted against the crack of dawn light from between the blackout curtains.
Myphone says 5:47.
Thirteen minutes until Jag’s external sweep.
I stay still. Watch him watching the world outside. His shoulders are tight. His jaw set. That controlled intensity radiating off him even in exhaustion.
At exactly 0600, his phone buzzes. Mine does, too. The group chat.
Jag: Curb sweep complete. Still 2-3 stringers visible. Recommend in-house hold, reassess at noon.
Marco types back.Copy. Extending go-to-ground. No exterior movement until your all-clear.
He glances over and catches me watching. “Morning.”
