Page 55 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
She hovered, uncertain.
When he finally turned, his eyes were serious.
"You don't believe me," he said, voice quiet. "And you don't trust me yet."
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
"But you will," he added. "I'm not goin' anywhere. And I'm not lettin' you get away again."
It was a promise, vow stitched from old mistakes and pieces of his heart.
She didn't respond. She just sat at the counter and ate the omelette thoughtfully. It was a little burnt, not the usual Byron standard.
She didn't mind.
Later that night, they were in bed.
Byron lay on his side, facing away from her. No arm across her waist. No whispered innuendos or wandering hands.
Ana frowned. She didn't like this version of Byron. It was as if he was unsure of his welcome on her side of the bed.
She slid closer, draped a thigh over both of his, and wrapped herself around him like a human koala.
He huffed but didn't move.
"I love you too, you big grumpy baby," she mumbled into his meaty shoulder.
He turned his head slightly.
"You don't have to say it back," he whispered.
"I was just... bein' a coward. I do love you. Have done for a while," she whispered back. "I'm just... scared."
There was a pause before his hand found hers under the duvet, fingers intertwining.
"You don't have to be," he said. "I won't make the same mistakes again."
And she believed him.
Text messages became something to brighten their day:
Byron:Don't be late. I'm starvin' and I want you before dinner. In that order.
Ana:I'm in a meeting.
Byron:So am I. With my hand and inappropriate thoughts. My balls are fucking blue. I want my doctor Ana.
***
6 months later
The office was mostly dark by 7 PM, the dull hum of lights and the occasional clack of a keyboard marking the presence of stragglers. Ana was still at her desk. She had adapted to her role of half-editor, half-investigative hound, deep in a spreadsheet that was meant to be background data but felt more like there was something she was missing in there. Something waiting to detonate.
A shadow loomed across her cubicle wall.
"Still here?" came Harben's voice, dry, familiar. Tall and narrow-shouldered, with glasses that always slid low on his nose, Harben looked like a grad student who'd wandered into the wrong office. The youthful, innocent look had gotten him a number of headlines and into a lot of beds he had no business visiting.
"Still ugly?" she shot back without looking up.
