It was just the double bed at the center of the room, a wardrobe in the corner, a thick rug across the floor, and little else as far as décor was concerned. Four walls, Rose and her husband, and a little too much privacy.
Rose’s ears started to burn, her cheeks flushed, and she could not bring herself to look at Christopher in case he could see what was on her mind. As far as she and he had come, sharing a room together still felt a touch beyond what they were capable of.
“I will sleep on the floor, of course.” He pulled his hand free and stood up from the bed. “The rug is thicker than it looks, and hopefully more comfortable too.”
“What? No,” Rose said before she could stop herself. “You are not sleeping on the floor.”
“Nor are you,” he said. “And please, Rose, for once, don’t argue about this. If you think that you are sleeping on the floor while I have a bed to myself, then I am afraid that you are –”
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“What are you saying?”
As small as the room already felt, it suddenly felt smaller once again. It was as if the walls were closing in as the ceiling slowly lowered, effectively trapping them both. Rose looked at her feet, the pressure in her chest rising, while the feeling of her husband looking down at her was so intense that she started to shake from it.
Just say it, Rose… it is not so big a deal… it is perfectly natural… and only for a single night. There is no need to make a thing of it.
But that wasn’t entirely true. What she was about to suggest, while normal in so many ways, carried with it consequences that would change everything.
Rose snapped her head up and forced herself to look at Christopher. “My meaning is that we will share the bed together, and before you say anything.” She cocked an eyebrow in warning. “If you try to sleep on the floor, I will do the same as you. I refuse to have the bed to myself while you lie in discomfort.”
“Rose…”
“This is not an argument,” she pushed on, still looking up at him, all too aware of how flushed her cheeks were… as were his own, for that matter. “We are sharing the bed, and that is final.”
Rose was many things, stubborn being one of them. She knew the request was not nearly as simple as she had made it out to be, and for that reason, she would have been better off not saying itin the first place. She also wasn’t going to take it back now that it was out there.
She could see clearly that Christopher was of a similar mind. They both existed in a space of uncertainty, knowing how fraught with danger the moment was, while refusing to acknowledge it as if that would make it real.
Ultimately, there was nothing to do but accept the reality of the circumstance and go along with it. Better to do that than to bring light to the consequences of what they were about to do, and thus risk dashing apart all the progress they had made to get there.
“I’ll sleep in my clothes,” Christopher explained as he climbed into one side of the bed. “I think that is best.”
“As will I,” Rose said as she climbed into the other side. “It is also quite chilly…”
“Yes,” Christopher agreed as he shuffled under the covers. “Rather chilly. Sleeping in our clothes is best.”
The experience of sleeping with her husband was about as uncomfortable as Rose expected it to be.
Lately, she had noticed that Christopher was no longer as serious and stern toward her as he had once been. Whether he was changing because of her or simply letting his guard down, she had started to see another side of him. A side thatwas comforting, caring, even funny when he allowed it. His emotional range was not one-dimensional, and this fact, above all else, was why they had started to grow closer.
However, as soon as they crawled into bed together, the old Christopher returned.
He lay on the very side of the bed, on his back with the covers pulled up to his chin, while he stared at the ceiling. He was like a statue, and Rose could literally feel how tense he was beside her.
Not that Rose was much better. She had never shared a bed with another man, and despite lying on the opposite side, her back to him, doing what she could to pretend he was not there, she could feel his presence like a specter sitting on her shoulder.
It was hard to say exactly how Rose felt about all of this. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, of course. But that it was her husband she was sharing the bed with, that she felt safe with him, that she knew that she could trust him…is it such a strange thing that he might be the one man in the whole world I would feel comfortable sharing a bed with?
What felt like hours passed by, but it was likely just minutes. Rose tossed and turned, but sleep would not come. And while her husband lay perfectly still, she knew him to be awake too.
“Can’t sleep?” Rose asked, speaking into the darkness of the room.
Christopher snorted. “What makes you say that?”
“The fact you responded was the first indication,” she laughed. Rose was lying on her back as she spoke, but she slowly turned onto her side to face her husband.
She could see him through the darkness, the outline of his body, the way he still lay on his back to look at the ceiling. He was certainly uncomfortable, and Rose had to fight the urge to shuffle closer.
