in his face, she had finally seen someone who understood what having and then losing their child had meant to her. And for the first time, she had just let herself cry.
Someone could finally comprehend what she had been through, someone who felt the pain, as well. Maybe that was what had wrenched all of that turmoil to the top. Maybe that was what had made her vulnerable to his advances.
She should have stopped him when he ran his hand up and down her back, sending tingles through her, but right then, the wounds in her had finally found a place where they could be held, and she wasn’t willing to leave that shelter. She hadn’t been touched in so long. She hadn’t had a place to unburden the past. That’s what his hands did to her. They softened the rage; they caressed the hurt.
She should have stopped him when he carried her to her bedroom, but she hadn’t been touched with understanding in so long—the kind of understanding that made her needy and wanting. Yes, by then, she wanted it as much as he did.
She should have stopped him, but it had always been this way between them.
Regina kicked off the sheets and went into the bathroom to run a bath. It wasn’t her usual routine, but she had time, and it would help her calm down and think.
He was taller than he’d been before, but mostly, he was more in control, more able to take his time, more able to respond to her body rather than running along ahead of her. This made him a different lover than the one she had known.
Having him inside of her had felt just like the first time. He was slow and gentle. He filled her with his presence. At first, he had made long, slow thrusts, stroking the aches out of her and making her body arch off the bed. Then he had found her spots and made her eager, pushed her toward the edge.
He had kissed her tears, lulling her sadness away, consoling her heartbreak. But he had also run his thumbs over her breasts, lighting fire in her. Between the tenderness and the flame, she wasn’t sure which was most consuming, most arousing.
When he cupped her head in his palms and kissed her, the gentleness of his kiss had alleviated her anger and healed her bruises, but his chest moving along her breasts as he plunged inside of her made her wrap her legs around him and draw him farther inside.
“Reggie, Reggie, I’ve missed you so much,” he had murmured over and over.
His deep voice sent tingles down her back, and when he whispered it against her ear, her body had broken out in goose bumps, and an agonizing pressure built up at her center.
“Tell me what you need, baby,” he had said.
She couldn’t speak, and she just held on, clinging to his shoulders. She only needed.
Then he had moved his hand down between them and begun to massage her while he moved inside of her, making her moan, making her grind against him, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Then the first waves of climax hit her, and her body gripped his length. He groaned and thrust against her, but waited for her full release before burying his face next to hers and bucking inside of her as he rode his own wave of orgasm. When it was over, she had turned from him, and he had pulled her back against his chest, and they had slept spooned together that way.
Remembering the night sent arrows of heat through Regina’s body. She was letting the memory overwhelm her, when she needed to be figuring out what to do now and where they would go from here.
Only, there was no they, and one night of passion didn’t erase six years of frustration and hurt and loneliness. It didn’t bring back their child or make their wedding happen. It didn’t turn back time.
* * *
Nigel had woken up early, before dawn. He couldn’t get back to sleep, but he didn’t want to wake up Regina. He thought about it—round two—but decided he had better not. His day would have to start in a bit, and he wouldn’t be able to take his time.
He just held her for a while, smiling to himself because she was back in his arms. His happiness was tainted by the fact that their child had been lost. He still needed to deal with that, and he needed to help Regina deal with it, too. He could see how much she was still hurting, and how angry she was that he hadn’t been there. He could never make up for that, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying.
Nigel slipped out of bed just as the sun was about to come up. He washed up as best he could, dressed and went to look for something for them to eat. He didn’t know whether she had to be up early on a Monday or what time the studio opened, but he knew he would wake her before he left. This way, they could have breakfast together. They could start their day and their lives together, start healing.
He found her key on the counter next to her purse and drove down the street to see if any place was open. It turned out that he could have walked, because the café on the corner already had customers. He got them bagels with cream cheese, bacon and eggs, pancakes, orange juice and coffee—more than they could eat.
When he got back, he heard her running water in the bathroom but decided not to disturb her just yet. He found a fork and sat down to his breakfast, checking out her pieces on the walls and thinking about where each one could go when they had their own place.
Nigel caught himself imagining their life together and sighed. They had a lot of talking and healing and forgiving left to do, but he was eager to begin the journey.
* * *
Regina didn’t smell the bacon until she was almost finished getting dressed. Was he still there? She threw on some slacks and a top and peeked out of her bedroom.
He smiled at her from the dining table and began moving the packages he had brought the night before to clear a space for her to sit. His smile almost turned his face into the boyish one she had known before—almost. The cheeks plumped out the way they used to, but the rougher angles remained.
“I thought I smelled bacon...”
“Good morning, beautiful. You did.”
“...but I knew I didn’t have bacon in the house.”
“No, I ran down to the corner to get us something. I hope you’re hungry because I think I overdid it. Come sit.”
Before she could sit down, he pulled her onto his lap and into a long hug. He kissed her cheek and her forehead. He didn’t seem to notice that her body stiffened now at this touch. And before she could protest to the affection, he released her to the chair he had cleared.
She could tell that they weren’t on the same page about last night. She wasn’t ready to broach the issue, but she knew she had to.
“I thought you were gone,” she said.
He must have read that hesitance in her voice as concern or disappointment because he slid his hand under her chin to pull her face toward his. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and said, “No, no way. You must think I’m a rat.”
He let her face go and uncovered her plate and juice, smiling at her. “I know I have a lot to make up for, a lot to prove, but I won’t be running out ever again. I just went to get us some eats. I figured we needed it after last night, which was...amazing.”
Regina looked at the mound of food in front of her and tried to figure out how to get them on the same page.
“I
