Just Steve

T H I R T Y - O N E

Getting out of bed the next morning was a struggle. Today was just one of those days where everything felt ten times harder than it should have been. The water pressure in the shower had sucked and you kept moving the dial, unable to find the right temperature. The toaster failed to pop twice leaving you with two pieces of burnt and charred bread. You had all but stumbled around the apartment at a snail's pace, trying to figure out what to do, mind fogged, a Steve induced hangover clouding every thought and movement. 

When you first woke up you thought maybe you had imagined the whole thing. That your lonely and pregnant addled mind had conjured up images of the man that you both wanted to see more than anything and wanted nothing to do with at the same time. In your heart you had known he wasn't some figment of your imagination.  You could see and feel him in everything. He was in the air you breathed, the piercing blue of his eyes in the marble countertop in the kitchen. He was nowhere and yet somehow, everywhere.

The morning light shone through the window, spiraling on the opposing wall. You watched as the shadows flickered. The eerie movement gave the illusion that the walls were moving, slowly caving in until the house that had once felt like a safe space was nothing more than a cage trapping you in an emotional nightmare. Shoving on your shoes, you burst through the front door, breathing in the fresh air. 

Your eyes shut tight, you leaned on the doorway as you felt the sun hit your skin, warming your face comfortingly. After a moment you opened your eyes. You were about to head down the steps thinking a relaxing walk might be able to shake you out of the state you were in when you noticed a car parked across the street although that wasn't what had caught your attention. Leaning on the convertible, Steve was watching you curiously his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

You blinked twice, staring back at him blankly, at a complete loss for what to do next. Not ready for round two of last night's painful events, you ignored him, jogging down the steps and heading down the street on your walk. Thankfully he didn't follow you and you were able to enjoy the rest of your walk in peace. Enjoy being not the best word to describe the current state of stressed confusion you were in but at least the outdoors were less suffocating than the walls of the house. 

Later the same day you were sitting on the floor playing solitaire on the glass coffee table. Needless to say you were desperately grasping and failing at random ways to pass the time and keep Steve off your mind. That was when you realized what an idiot you had been. Steve knew where you were now. You didn't need to hide from street cameras or avoid public places. You could do anything you wanted. The world was your oyster, or at least Boston was.     

After some debate on where to go first and what food your stomach would actually be able to handle, you decided to go to a bagel shop a few blocks away. Less than twenty minutes later you were leaving the shop, toasted cinnamon raisin bagel in hand when the sight of the Steve once again stopped you short. 

He had a baseball cap on now and aviators covered his eyes. He was obviously trying to blend in since he was in public but the man looked anything but inconspicuous. You smirked slightly a dry laugh escaping your lips as you called out to him before you could stop yourself. 

"You know I can see you right?"

"That's kinda the whole point, sweetheart."

You frowned as you walked away from him. It was a slightly odd response but you were fairly sure you knew what he was getting at. He was trying to prove to you that he would always be looking out for you. This wasn't the insecure man who had signed that contract but the man who would stand by you, the man that would fight for you. It was his way of telling you that contract or no contract, he still cared for you. That when the day came where you were finally ready to talk to him about what had happened, he would be there waiting.