Back to Square One

Chapter Eleven: Silas

I stare at the ceiling.

My Annika is 20 feet away. Laying in our bed and I'm here, in the guest room. I keep thinking about how she is across the hall from me. So close and yet so far. I want to feel her warmth on the sheets. I want her scent to fill my senses. I wanted her with me so badly. But everything needs to be on her terms; I can't risk anything just because I miss her. I miss us.

Is she asleep? What is she dreaming about? If awake, what is she thinking?

This mattress sucks. We are going to need to replace it before we have company stay over.

Brain, shut up. Go to sleep.

Is she thinking of me? Does she regret coming home? With me? Does she regret me?

Ugh, God!

This is going to be a long night...

_______________

After a restless night, I finally give up on sleep at 5:47. I make my way downstairs and start the coffee maker.

I should have told her yesterday about the miscarriages, I had the perfect window, but I thought it would be too much. She learned a lot of things yesterday. I didn't want to overwhelm her more than she already was.

She was so sad about losing my mom, and I didn't want to give her more to grieve over.

I'll tell her everything at her pace.

I go back upstairs at 6:30 with two cups of coffee in hand. I don't remember how 18-year-old Annika likes her coffee, but 25-year-old Annika loves it with French vanilla creamer. I drink it black.

I knock on the door, and there is no response. Peeking my head, I see a messy, used bed but no Annika. She must be in the bathroom. I understand that it hasn't changed either. We are both early birds, even when I do get a full night's sleep.

I had brought a change of clothes to sleep in last night. Last night I also took my first shower in the guest bath, which was weird. It's so odd to feel like a guest in your own home. Since she is in the bathroom now, I take the opportunity to change. I pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The forecast predicted rain all day, so we likely wouldn't be doing too much today.

I look up when I hear the door open. Crap... Crap on crap. I'm only in my briefs when she comes out in red lace matching underwear and wet hair. She looks so good. Her body is something else. Damnit. I cover my crotch with my hands.

"Jesus, Silas! What are you doing?" She yells, running to the bed to hide under the covers.

"Sorry. I was just changing." I say, putting on my jeans. She may be hiding under the covers, but I see her eyeing me the whole time. "You know we have seen each other naked before, right?"

"I know... it's different, though." I throw on a t-shirt and walk over to her.

"I made you coffee." She drinks it with a smile. 18-year-old her must like French vanilla too.

"Thanks." She places the empty mug on the nightstand. "I wear really sexy underwear."

"Yeah, you do," I say cockily into my coffee. She really does wear the sexiest underwear. It's going to be my undoing.

"What do I wear when I'm on my period."

"The black ones." She nods. All I see of her is her face and fingertips wrapping around the edges of the blanket. "I'll go so that you can finish getting ready."

I go to the living room and put a pillow over my lap. Good God. I just saw her in her underwear—the red ones at that. I'm so fucking hard right now. I haven't had sex since the day of the accident. I haven't jerked off since I was 19. I haven't needed to, and I don't want to. I can't replicate what she does to me, the way she makes me feel.

God, this dry spell is going to suck. But I won't do anything about it. I'm not that guy. She will come to me if and when she is ready... fingers crossed that it's a matter of when not if. If I never have her again, I will lose my Goddamn mind. She may be the only person I have ever been with, but she is the best I will ever have. No one would come fucking close. She's perfect.

After a few minutes, she emerges in a flowy black dress. Her curly hair is still wet. She has the cat purring in her arms. "So, what is our normal weekend routine?" She joins me on the couch.

"We are morning people, so we don't sleep-in typically." I've never been jealous of a cat before, but I would give anything to be the one in her lap right now—anything to have been the one in bed with her last night. "Sometimes we go to the beach and watch the sunrise. We often walk around the historic district. Do the grocery shopping. We go out for lunch often. Sometimes we go to a movie. We have annual passes at Universal, so we go there once or twice a month."

"Can we go once I get the okay from my doc?"

"Yeah, of course." That won't be for another four weeks. I'm glad she is thinking ahead about us. The things for our future. All the things we could do. The fun we will have. The laughs we will share. If she doesn't remember anything I won't recreate our past, I don't think that's healthy even though our history is pretty great. I'll give her new, beautiful experiences. I'll make her happy; I know I will. "Sundays, we typically eat dinner with family, either at there places or here."

"Do we have plans for tomorrow with them?" I shake my head. "Why don't we invite everyone here?"

"Sounds good to me," I say, rubbing the cat's ears. Poor guy really missed his mommy.

"What's his name?"