Mark stood. I took him by the hand and led him back to the sofa bed, lying down once we were there and pulling him on top of me. He still seemed hesitant.
“I know you’re Billy’s friend,” I said. “I know there might be more to his reaction than I realize. Maybe he’ll come back. Maybe”—I swallowed hard, about to be brutally honest, both with Mark and myself—“maybe I even want him to. You can’t stop loving someone on a dime.” How often had I made the same explanation to Billy about my leftover feelings for Mark? “I don’t know any of that. But I do know I need you to hold me right now more than I need my next breath.”
He kissed me then, wrapping strong arms around me, giving me what I wanted. Selfishly, I took it. I held on to him the way a drowning person clings to a buoy in a stormy sea, using him to keep all the terrifying thoughts in my head at bay. One more thing for me to feel guilty about tomorrow, but at the moment I didn’t care. Tomorrow could go fuck itself. Tonight was my haven, and I was damn well going to crawl into it and lock out the rest of the world.
He was tender with me, too tender for my present state of mind, undressing me and himself with agonizing slowness. I wanted him fast and hard, to match the pounding of my pulse. I wanted him to drive every ugly thought, every hideous image, out of my head by his sheer strength.
“Please,” I said, demanding more than begging. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as hard as I could. I tried to shake him, but he was like stone in my hands, immovable.
“Shhh…” he said, the sound a whisper of breath in my ear. He ignored my efforts to spur him on, choosing instead to gentle me with unhurried hands and soft lips. “Be still. Let your muscles relax. I promise it will be better.”
I lay back in frustration, doing as I was told, not sure I deserved to enjoy it more, but what choice did I have? He wasn’t giving in.
His hands and mouth continued their leisurely exploration of my body. It was almost more of a massage, and eventually I did relax, receding into a boneless state of blissful nothingness. Then he switched gears and started ramping up the tension in my body again, minus the rage at life that had been threatening to overwhelm me.
When he finally entered me it was in one silken motion, filling not only my body but also the place that had been excised from my soul at the skating rink. He moved inside me with infinite patience, not rushing, lifting me so gradually that when my peak came it took me by surprise, both with its intensity and its duration. Not the violent release I’d wanted, but the deep and gentle one I’d needed.
As it ebbed, he joined me with his own, holding himself still as he pulsed into me, kissing me so softly, so reverently I couldn’t stop my tears from flowing. He withdrew and rolled onto his back, tucking me next to him.
I snuggled close, burrowing my face into his chest. “Thank you,” I said, sniffling. “Thank you, thank you…” And then I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The first thing I realized upon waking: I hadn’t had a single nightmare. Mind-blowing sex, the cure for all ills. Beat the heck out of seeing a shrink. No offense to psychiatrists, but I didn’t think I’d enjoy having my psyche dissected. I figured my subconscious deserved its privacy.
The second thing I realized: Mark was gone. Before I could panic, I saw the note he’d left on the pillow beside mine, telling me he’d gone downstairs for a quick meeting, assuring me he wouldn’t take his eyes off the building and would be back soon.
The wave of relief that spread through me was embarrassing. Come on, Ciel, grow a pair. You can’t expect him to hold your hand forever.
And I didn’t. I could take care of myself. I’d proved it, hadn’t I? Someone had tried to kill me, and here I was, still alive. I was going to focus on that, and ignore the fact that I’d pretty much crumpled on the inside afterward. Because so what?
So. The. Fuck. What.
I dug through the covers for the thermal, and pulled it over my head. The important thing was, I could function in a crisis. Who cared about the immediate aftermath? I was fine now. That was what mattered.
Still, I jumped like a scared mouse when the door opened. I knew it had to be Mark, and jumped anyway, pure reflex. Crap. Jangled nerves sucked.
“Sorry, Howdy,” he said in a perfectly normal voice, like my idiot reaction was somehow his fault. He put some bags on the kitchen counter. The smaller appeared to be from a nearby storefront diner.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said. “Guess I’m a little … never mind. Whatcha got there?”
He pulled two large, lidded paper cups out of a bag and handed one to me. “I can’t guarantee the quality, but it’s decaf.”
It smelled heavenly. “Thanks. At this point, if it’s black and made from a bean I’m willing to give it a go.”
Next out of the bag was the biggest, gooiest cinnamon roll I’d ever seen. My mouth watered, and without thinking I blurted, “Oh, my God, I love you!”
I froze. Crap, Ciel, what the hell? “Um, I mean…” I ventured a look at his face.
He was smiling. “Gee, if I’d known it was that easy I would have plied you with pastries weeks ago,” he said.
“Mark…” I said, then stopped, biting the inside of my cheek.
“Howdy, eat. We can have the ‘about last night’ talk later.”
I’m totally cool with procrastination, especially when it involves cinnamon and sugar. I dug in and put off thinking about the day ahead of me for the few precious moments I could.
While I was eating, Mark pulled some clothes out of the other bag. Some very familiar-looking clothes. I dropped the roll, rinsed my hands, and went for a closer inspection. It was the reindeer-playing-poker sweater, along with everything else I’d been wearing the day before.
“But how…?” I said, running my hands over everything. “I mean, they were soaked with … they were ruined. These look brand new!”
Mark smiled. “They are. I had someone go to the station yesterday and inspect your clothes. She tracked down the stores where your mother shops—don’t worry, your mom doesn’t know—and bought duplicates of everything.”
My eyes started leaking again. “I won’t have to explain what happened. I won’t have to tell my parents I—” I dropped the sweater I’d been clutching and hurled myself at Mark. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I thought it might make it easier for you go home.”
I pulled away from the hug. “But I can’t—”
“Ciel, I have to get back out on the street. I have to find Loughlin and I can’t—I won’t—leave you here alone.”
“You don’t have to—I can go with you. I can help! I can handle myself, you know I—”
“No.”
“But you know I’m capable. And you said…” I was about to remind him he’d regretted not keeping me with him before, but somehow that seemed like a low blow, so I stopped myself.
“Howdy, after how you’ve handled yourself this past week, I damn well believe you’re capable of anything. But I’m not. I can’t worry about you out there on the street with me, not when you’re pregnant.”
Damn it. I knew I had a responsibility to the tiny alien growing inside me, but it was going to take some adjusting. I sighed my reluctant agreement.
Relief softened his eyes. “You can stay with your parents, or James. Even Brian. Or I can have you flown back to D.C. to stay with Thomas and Laura. Your choice.”
“I don’t think I can be around Thomas and Laura right now,” I said quietly. Mark was a smart guy. He’d figure out why.
He nodded. “I suggest your parents. You can’t avoid them for long this time of year, and your mom will keep you too busy to worry about … things.”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I suppose it’s too much to expect Mom and Dad don’t know about what happened at the skating rink. Did it make the news?”
“It did. But a police spokesperson, at our suggestion”—yeah, right, “suggestion”—“told the press a mentally disturbed homeless man was harassing a woman at the rink, which led to a horrific accident. No names were released in order to respect the privacy of all involved.”
“Did they mention the woman was Japanese? Because Mom was the one who gave me the aura.”
Mark smiled a tiny bit. “I believe that fact was omitted.”
“Maybe Mom won’t connect it to me then. I never told her I was going skating.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Do you think the press will leave it alone?” I said.
He shrugged. “This is New York. It won’t be long before something crazier comes along to distract them.”
True enough. “Let’s hope it doesn’t involve another adaptor.”
“I’m going to see that it doesn’t,” he said. “Do me a favor and put your clothes on so we can get going.”
“Sure. Only, um, about last night…” I began hesitantly.
“Ciel, last night was for you, no strings. You were hurting, and I hope I helped.” He paused, then seemed to come to a decision. “There’s only one thing I’m going to ask from you. If you and Billy wind up back together”—my heart clutched at the thought—“and it turns out the baby is mine, I need to be a part of its life. We don’t have to tell people I’m the father—my aim isn’t to make life complicated for anyone—but I have to be there, in some capacity, for my child.”
Seemed only fair. I nodded. “And if Billy and I don’t get back together?”
A strange—for him—look settled on his face. I couldn’t quite read it. “You could always marry me.”
I stared, stunned. “But it’s more than likely not even your baby.”
“I told you last night that doesn’t matter. I meant it.”
I twisted my mouth into a wry smile. “Oh, right. Mark to my rescue yet again. You really need to do something about that savior complex, you know.”
He shook his head, slowly. “It’s not that, Ciel. Not even a little bit. I’ll settle for being your friend if I have to, but I want it all. With you. I thought you knew that.”