Composure took her sweet time leaving, and in her place sat resignation and an oddly comfortable sort of peace. I meandered my way upstairs shortly after midnight, trailing behind Ben, his hand stretched back to pull me along slowly as I kept becoming distracted by things along the route. Pictures that seemed fascinating or crooked. Blooming flowers. A cat on a stair step. My face in the mirror.
Finally he pulls me into our room and closes the door behind us. Lochlan is almost asleep, a thick acknowledgement in the dark confirming his presence. Ben responds and then leads me into the bathroom. The lights are off, the candles lit, bubble bath drawn, steaming clouds of foam fill the tub up to the brim. I know the water only goes halfway. Ben's exercise in volume proved to us early on how far we could fill it before we flooded the floor.
He strips himself first and then me, taking his sweet time. Big fingers on tiny little buttons, hooks and eyes, satin and bows. I don't help, I watch his face. When he is finished he holds his hand out and I take it and step up and into the bath. The water is so hot I gasp. Once I am sitting he steps in and sits down, the water level rising to lap against my shoulders. He positions his legs under mine and pulls me up into his arms. My arms go around his neck as I am lifted into his lap, holding on for dear life. He presses his head down against mine and I close my eyes.
I think sometimes this is my favorite place in the whole world now, after the beach, right at the edge of the water where the earth meets the ocean and all the treasures remain when the tides change. Ben stirs, kissing my damp skin, pulling up a washcloth, wringing it out against my spine so that the hot water courses down in rivers between my shoulder blades.
It was the last thing I remember before my dreams took me.
Safe.
