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He sighs, long and slow.
“I don’t know a single woman who would be anything but pleased for you, Jill.”
“I don’t know a single woman who would be anything but pleased for you, Jill.”
“Perhaps you are, but cruelty and hardship has made you so, and undeservedly so at that.” Thinking otherwise is easier said than done. “Think of all the ways you and I have fought to be closer… who else would fight that way for me?”
“You do not have to be everything to me, Jill, to be important,” he says. “If I need more than this, I’ll tell you.”
“I promise,” he says, gravely serious. “I’ll tell you, even if it’s hard.”
He holds her tightly while she reflects on it, wondering if he’ll ever say the right thing.
“Does it?”
“Does it?”
"I do not think you could disappoint me in any way I could not bear," he assures her. "As I said all those months ago... you could even hate me and I would still find a way to care for you. You won't lose me. Not again."
"I know, my love," he murmurs, squeezing her tighter. "And that anger and hurt has been well-deserved."
He pauses, a touch of a smile on his face.
"You'll be the mother of my children someday, if we're so fortunate."
He pauses, a touch of a smile on his face.
"You'll be the mother of my children someday, if we're so fortunate."
“I’m yours,” he says. Others may borrow him, or his body —- take their amusements, offered or given up. But he’s hers. “You ought to take pride. Satisfy yourself in having me.”
“Yours to keep,” he promises. “Hold every night, if you want to.”
"I know." But he needed time. For himself, maybe, like he did last December but without all the hostility, or the nihilism. Could she understand that? He still cannot say. "We should be together."
He smiles, reaching to take her face in hand, thumbing over the swell of her cheek.
"For as long as you'll have me, Jill."
"For as long as you'll have me, Jill."
Clive gazes into her eyes, and he sits up a little, tipping her with him. A silence hangs between them for a beat, and he nods.
"I'll come upstairs again." He leans in to brush his nose against hers. "And we'll talk every night."
"I'll come upstairs again." He leans in to brush his nose against hers. "And we'll talk every night."
Jill smiles in relief, eyes closing as she nuzzles his nose in return. He could have said no. He could have said they needed more time apart. Maybe he'd be right, but she wants to try to navigate who they are with one another, together.
"And it won't ruin anything," she promises.
"And it won't ruin anything," she promises.
"Not with our diligence," he says, and he kisses her briefly on the corner of the mouth, still looking at her. "I promise you it all and everything, Jill. Everything I can give."
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