After Kaylee's gone, I take a shower and put on a work-appropriate outfit consisting of a blouse and a long, flowing skirt. When I step out of the bathroom, the faint smell of coffee and something savory cooking fills the hallway, and my heart jumps a little. I wasn't expecting him to be up and still here. Some part of me thought he'd quietly sneak off. Another part of me feared there'd be regret, that he'd want to take everything back. Last night feels too surreal, too wild to have actually happened.
As I enter the kitchen, I see Derek at the stove, his back turned to me. He's moving a spatula over a pan of eggs. He's wearing only his grey sweatpants, treating me to a nice view of his muscular back. For a few seconds I just trace the dip of his spine with my eyes, taking note of a shallow scratch on the back of his neck that I might have left there.
Before I can get too lost in him, I make myself snap back to the present dilemma. I avert my gaze to the mug of fresh coffee sitting on the counter, wisps of white steam curling lazily above it.
"Hey," he says, turning to look at me with an easy smile, a softness I haven't seen in what seems like a long time. "Made you breakfast. Thought you could use something warm before work."
I'm speechless for a beat, still half-disoriented from how different he seems, definitely a lot calmer and … subservient? There's an intensity to his gaze, the way it latches onto me, so focused and alert.
"Thanks," I manage, reaching for the coffee. "I didn't expect you to still be here."
He chuckles like I can't be serious, takes a carton of milk from the fridge and slides it across the counter to me. "Why would I not be here? I wanted to be here. I wanted… well, to make things right." He puts down the spatula, resting his hands on the counter. "I know it's a lot, and we haven't even really talked about everything, but Skye…" His eyes search mine, filled with earnest regret. "I can't lose you."
I swallow, glancing down at the coffee as I pour some milk into it to give myself a moment.
*We haven't talked about everything*, that might be the understatement of the decade and I note that he didn't say her name.
"Derek, you didn't lose me." Every word feels like a step onto thin ice. "You just… it's complicated." I sigh, annoyed with myself. There I go, chickening out again. Why can't I just say it? *You ripped my heart out like it was nothing, then you practically ghosted me, then you reappeared with no explanation, leaving me dazed and confused*
He walks over, taking my hand in his, his fingers warm and steady.
"Then let's uncomplicate it. I was stupid, Skye. I let my head go in all the wrong places. I thought I wanted—" he stops, shaking his head, a brief shadow crossing his face. I want to know how that sentence ends, but he never gets back to it. "I don't even know what I thought, honestly. But now I know what I want. It's you. Us. The future we talked about, with the house, the kids, all of it," he tells me instead. His grip on my hand tightens, almost as if he's afraid I might pull away and I could. Maybe I should. "Please, Skye. Let's put this behind us. We can get back to how things were, I swear. We'll make it better than before. I'll be better."
I look up at him, trying to gauge if this is real or just... what? A stalling tactic? A way for him to continue living here until the Emily thing gets more serious or he finds an even more fun, even younger and prettier woman? Those thoughts are unbearable and I instantly want to banish them from my brain forever. Derek's not the unfaithful type, I tell myself.
At least not as far as I know, an uncharitable little voice whispers in my head.
"I don't even know if I'm ready for that right now," I admit, my voice wispy and unsure. I hate my own wishy-washiness. "I don't know if I'm ready to jump back in."
He steps closer, his eyes pleading, intense in a way that sends a not entirely unpleasant shiver down my spine.
"I don't care what it takes," he says quietly, his voice low, but with that same fervent urgency from the night before. It's the voice of a man on a battlefield, I think. Some medieval warrior swearing fealty to his king. "I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll change anything about myself you don't like. I just want you back, Skye. For real. And for good. I want to be yours. Forever."
The words hit me hard because they're so unexpected. There's the sincerity and then there's the desperation. The same desperation he came to me with last night, only now it feels even more intense, and it's very much giving romance novel protagonist and very much not Derek Stephens, mellow, slightly low-effort, rational and sometimes withholding IT-consultant. The Derek I know and love was never big-declarations-guy.
Was the idea of losing me really enough to give him a full personality transplant? But how does that make sense when he was the one who wanted to break it all off?
He reaches out, gently brushing my cheek with his fingers.
"Marry me," he murmurs, as if it's a new thought, one he only just now realized he's utterly committed to and not the event I've been planning and agonizing over for half a year, the event he backed out of with pretty much no explanation a mere - what? - forty-eight hours ago? "Let's stop waiting. We'll do something small, forget about all the admin stuff, just us and the people we care about. What do you say?"
I swallow, feeling my heart race. I should be furious. I should throw this coffee in his face and scream at him. How dare he put me through this bullshit before waltzing back into my life, pretending it never happened? And all the admin stuff? I wanted to do that! It was supposed to be a beautiful thing we did together!
He looks at me like he's already decided I'll say yes, like there's no room for hesitation. There's this confident glint in his eyes, pure determination. Meanwhile I'm feeling like I've stepped into quicksand. How does he not see that this is going way too fast for me after everything that happened, after the hurt he caused?
I shake my head. It's a tiny, weak movement and I hate myself for it. Kaylee would kick me if she witnessed this.
"Can we just… take things slow?" He nods, but his gaze doesn't lose that fierce gleam. "As slow as you need, Skye. I'm not going anywhere."
He presses a kiss to my hand, holding it against his chest in this old-fashioned romantic gesture. I can feel his heart beating beneath my palm. I don't think he's ever done anything like that before. "Not without you," he adds.This is what I wanted; it's what I asked for in that stupid spell. Part of me is still caught up in the thrill of him being here, of the way he looks at me as though he'd do anything to keep me.
But there's another part of me that isn't sure, that wonders if what I wanted back might not be what I needed after all. It can't be this simple, not after what he did. You don't cancel a wedding out of the blue and then uncancel it just as abruptly, right?
"We have to talk about Emily," I tell him and that takes all my courage and determination. He owes me that and I owe it to myself to insist on it.
His hand squeezes mine as he holds my gaze. There's a twitch at the corner of his mouth and a muscle jumps in his jaw. I've known Derek long enough to recognize the signs of displeasure he's trying to conceal.
"Skye..." For a second he presses his lips into a thin line as if he's trying to keep himself from saying something he might regret. His grip on my hand tightens, and I feel his chest lift with the deep breath he sucks in through his nose. "That person doesn't matter. She never did." He pushes the words out like they're hot on his tongue, painful.
It irks me that he won't even say her name. Why is that?
"I can't tell you how much I hate myself for ever bringing her up. She's no one."
He might think that I'll appreciate him talking about his whatever she was or still is this way, but I really don't. If she was nothing, he wouldn't have backed out of the wedding.
When I pull away, it takes him a moment to let go. There's the tiniest tug of war between us. As soon as I'm free, I take a big decisive step away from him and he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I'm sorry, Skye."
I rub my wrist, exaggerating my discomfort a little. He didn't really hurt me, but I sensed a shift in his demeanor that startled me.
"Are you gonna stay?" I ask.
"What do you mean? You want me to leave?" He looks at me with a mix of surprise and hurt like I pulled the rug out from under his feet.
"No, I'm just so freaking confused." I huff a huge sigh.
*And sad*, I don't say. Last night was overwhelming. I felt so close to him, I wanted nothing more than to cling to him, I wanted everything to be the way it had been. Derek was my home, my safe space, but now, in the harsh light of day, I can't ignore the cracks in our foundation anymore. Derek has put them there and despite all the plaster he hastily slapped on last night, I can't pretend everything is solid, that I don't know what lies beneath the surface. No matter how much I want to.
He closes the gap between us and pulls me to him. This is what makes everything so difficult. He fits me so well and for the last five years I've been able to lean on him. I'm just tall enough to rest my chin on his shoulder. I nuzzle his neck. He smells like sex and his familiar natural musk. Although he definitely needs a shower, I still press close to him, seeking comfort. I've just gotten so used to relying on him that I can't imagine a future without him.
He turns his head and kisses my hair. I feel whatever defenses I have crumble to dust.
"I'll earn your forgiveness, okay? I swear, I'll earn it. And then we can get married and everything will be perfect."
Shit, I want to believe him so bad.
"Okay," I whisper as I close my eyes because everything seems a little easier in the dark.