stealing my breath, making a choked whimper work its way up my throat.
I managed to pull myself up to the top of my too big, too empty bed, slipping under the heavy blankets, curling onto my side, pulling a spare pillow in to snuggle into; mostly to muffle the sounds of my cries as they came on hard and fast.
I shouldn't have felt so deeply for him in so short of a time. The rational side of me knew this.
The irrational side, though, didn't give a shit about what was typical, about what society told us about how and when it was appropriate to give over yourself to someone completely.
It happened on its own time with its own rules. I was pretty sure the situation with Christopher and me was a prime example of that.
Neither of us was looking for it.
Neither of us really even wanted it.
And we damn sure never thought that finding it would somehow change us, impact us so deeply.
I couldn't speak for Christopher, of course. For all I knew, he was back to his normal life, bedding random women, never letting them into his life, slowly burying the memory of me under a perfumed parade of other bodies.
But, for me, there was no denying it.
I was changed.
Possibly forever.
In big ways, but small ones, as well.
I found part of myself I didn't know I had been missing or had tried so hard to bury. And now that they were recovered, I didn't want to lose them again, to bury them again. I wanted to sit them down over coffee and apologize for denying them. I wanted to invite them into my life.
I wanted to cook meals for loved ones.
I wanted to slow down with work a little.
I wanted to have love and maybe even have babies.
I wanted a life.
I had somehow managed to brainwash myself for years that what I had was a life. It was busy and hectic and interesting and challenging. And all those things added up to a distant sort of accomplishment, contentment.
But it wasn't happiness.
It wasn't fulfillment.
There was nothing wrong with having your career be a priority, but unless you were curing cancer or eradicating infectious diseases that might wipe out half our population, I was starting to think it was unhealthy for work to be your everything.
Especially for people like me.
In careers like mine.
I wasn't stupid. My job had an expiration date. I wasn't going to be able to do it until social security kicked in when I was, what, sixty-seven. I would be forced to retire well before then.
And then what?
No, really, and then what?
What would I have?
Who would I have?
Friends, sure.
But they had their own lives, their own families. They would only be around so much. They would never be able to fill the long waking hours.
Something had to change in my life.
I had already begun to change.
I wanted the things I had so long thought weren't for me.
A slower life.
Deeper roots.
Family.
Kids.
Christopher.
My heart threw that last one in there.
And as irrational as it was, I couldn't deny that it was true.
I wanted him.
I wanted those things with him.
Even if it wasn't possible.
The ache for it was something all-consuming at times, a black hole with a plan to suck everything into its depths.
"Mills..." Smith's voice called what felt like a lifetime later, his tone cautious, sad, making me realize the pillow hadn't been doing as good a job as I thought in keeping the sobs and the sniffling quiet.
"I'm fine," I objected, taking a deep breath.
"You're not fine," he objected, making the bed depress as he sat down on the edge. "But I figure you're not going to talk to me about it."
"I was starting to love him," I admitted, finding it was easier to open up when you had your face stuffed in a pillow. "I know Quin thinks I have Stockholm or something, but it's not that. It was real."
There was a humorless chuckle as his hand slapped my thigh. "Leave it to you to fall for a crime lord, huh?" he asked, making a small smile tug at my lips, finding comfort in his teasing. "Why don't you call him?" he suggested.
I hated to admit that I didn't even have his number, that I might have actually been weak enough to call him if I did.
"It's pointless," I said instead. "He lives in Greece," I added, shaking my head.
"I heard he actually has dual citizenship, but, yes, he does live there. You like Greece."
"I like it here too."
"Maybe