The swoosh of her dress and the sound of her heels approached him. “I think it’s upstairs.”
He motioned at the stairs and dragged his feet away from her. Standing too close when they were alone was dangerous. Painful.
Sinking in the couch, he peered at the back of her gown as it trailed behind her. Then his eyes reveled in the sight of her beautiful figure. All those feelings he’d been stuffing down the past year and struggling with all evening rose to the surface, impossible to press back down. When she vanished upstairs, he held his head in his hands, freeing a few tears.
Then he undid his bowtie, took off his jacket and waited for what seemed like an eternity for her to come down, thinking about going up to…help her find what she was looking for. After long deliberations with himself, he was convinced it was the right thing to do.
He took the elevator because the stairs would take too long. The door was open, yet he knocked.
“It’s your room. You don’t need permission to come in,” she said.
He faltered at the door, summoning all his strength not to think about the fact that they were together alone in their old bedroom. The place where he first made love to her.
He cleared his throat as he took more steps inside. She was sitting on the bed, her heels off. “Have you found it yet?”
“Not yet. But I won’t give up.”
“Maybe you can tell me what it is so I can help you look.”
She just sat there for a while, and he couldn’t help watching her chest rise with every breath and picturing images of her body on him. He wanted to touch her, make love to her, and have her love again. Tell her about the unbearable days and nights he’d spent without her. The tears he’d shed. The hole she punched in his chest. Yet he knew he couldn’t.
“Are we gonna look for that thing or what?” he asked, lowering his head, filling the silence.
She finally rose. Then she took his hand in hers, surprising him. “Why can’t you look at me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Why do you think?He grimaced, jamming his free hand in his pocket. “I haven’t seen you in a year. I can’t trust myself when you’re standing this close to me, looking like this… especially here.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
His lips pursed as he shrugged. “Always been.”
She dragged him with her as she went to stand in front of the mirror. “Look at me. Tell me what you see.”
He sighed, closing his eyes at the memory. “Maggie…”
“Please.”
He bowed his head, taking long breaths and exhaling them, squeezing her hand.
“Just look at me and tell me if I’ve changed.”
His head lifted, and he stared, reliving moments, remembering it all. “Yes. You have changed.”
She smiled. “How?”
“Your posture. Your stance. Relaxed. Confident. You look like someone who has found peace and accepted herself as a whole, not just the good parts.”
She gazed at their reflection for a while before she twirled. “Now look at me and tell me if you still think I’m your soul mate.”
His throat tightened as he realized once again how much he loved her. “I can’t take this. Can you just please…” He let go of her hand. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Don’t you understand yet?”
He looked at her and stopped breathing for a second.
She sighed in frustration. “Do I have to make the first move every fucking time?”
His pulse spiked as if he’d run a mile. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
