The Guy Next Door (Chapter 12-13)

[little_firestar]

Over one month later, Teresa was coming back home on a late Friday night, after a whole week spent in San Francisco at a conference between heads of departments of different CBI offices; like every weekend, her eyes fell on Jane’s windows as soon as she left the taxy, and like almost every weekend, she found the blinds closed and the lights turned off. After their “fight” he had come back from Los Angeles only once, and for the whole two days, he had avoided her like the plague, changing his routine so drastically that she hadn’t even been able to get a glimpse of him.

Shaking her head, she entered the building, and tiredly she went back to her own apartment. Once inside, she didn’t bother to bring the suitcase in her room, abandoning it in the entrance, and started to undress, leaving the clothes where they fell; half-naked, she skimmed over the surfaces of her apartment, the dark wood Jane had insisted she was supposed to keep, and wondered how it was possible that things had changed so much in so little time. When she had first moved in, she had loved the place, found it perfect; now, as much as she was happy to be back, those walls didn’t feel like “home” any longer. It was just a house- one she wasn’t so sure that could make her as happy as she had dreamed before.

Without getting dressed, she went to sit on the couch, and hugging her knees she stared at the sheets of paper on the coffee table; they had been there since she had found them in front of her door, and she hadn’t been able to move them, nor call anyone from Jane’s list of contractors. She knew it was stupid, because, unlike him, they were professionals and because she trusted his judgment, but having someone working on her kitchen who wasn’t him, it felt wrong. Besides, she wasn’t so sure she still wanted to actually get her kitchen done.

She sighed as she undid the ponytail, her raven hair cascading on her shoulders and her chest in soft, natural waves. Closing her eyes, she touched her breastbone, on the point where her heart was, and wondered if that pain she felt whenever she thought of him was eventually going to disappear. She shook her head, fighting back tears, fearing that Jane’s memory would never abandon her. There was always something, even small things, that kept brining her back to him. Like in San Francisco, when a guy she was talking to had taken a turquoise cup and started drinking tea, and she had almost had a nervous breakdown there and then. All because he had gotten under her skin, in her heart, her mind.

She was so lost in her thoughts of him, that she hadn’t even noticed that she had taken  her phone, but as soon as she understood what her subconscious was asking her to do, she called herself names. It was stupid: she didn’t even have his number, because since they had met, all she had to do when she wanted to talk with him had been knock at the door next to hers.

And now… Now, Patrick Jane wasn’t the guy next door any longer.

Slightly annoyed with herself, she threw the phone on the couch, and wondered what she thought she was doing. Yes, theoretically speaking, she did know where he was working. But even if she had decided to call the LAPD, and even if he had wanted to talk with her, what did she think she was going to tell him anyway?

I just wanted to tell you that, well, I miss you.

Jane, I know I didn’t show it enough, but, you are always in my mind.

Please, come back here. To me.

But she knew she couldn’t. Yes, there was the matter of her pride, and that she still didn’t know where they stood, but she still thought it wasn’t fair towards him; it had taken Jane more than two years to get over the guilt of his family’s passing, she couldn’t bring him back when he was finally starting living again, when he was doing what he had always been great at, in a way that didn’t make him feel like a fraud. She couldn’t stop him now, get him back there with her and risk that he would fall again in the tunnel of depression and guilt he had spiraled into for too long.

He had been able to move on. She wasn’t so sure she could say the same about herself. It wasn’t just the fact that she couldn’t move past her brief relationship with Jane; it was the fact that even if she had gotten promoted, nothing had changed for her. She was still Teresa, daughter of an alcoholic with the dead mother, and she was still a woman in a male-dominated world, still under-considered, still the object of evil and mean gossip. Only, now she worked mostly in an office, she didn’t work cases that much and yes, her pay was better, but the hours wore worse and the burocracy was killing her.
So, yeah- getting promoted had meant turning into a bureaucrat, a sad, tired bureaucrat who needed to take a long, warm, bubble bath and then sleep for as long as possible.

Just few more years. She thought, eyeing from afar the alcohol cabinet. Then you’ll be able to retire and buy an house by the sea and spend there the rest of your days. Or maybe, you could move back to Chicago, get your old home back and show everyone who you’ve turned into.

But as much as she had always craved those things, now she believed them unimportant and didn’t feel free or relieved by the possibility of either of those futures: because all she wanted was to have a turquoise cup on her table once again, filled with hot tea.

The feeling persisted on the next day; she woke up without any energy, nor the will to get any work done despite knowing she had to. She just couldn’t get anything started, it was too quiet. She had despised Jane’s continuous hammering, and yet in the last few weeks she had not gotten anything done on the weekend because she had come to need the noise to concentrate.

She groaned, arranged her hair in a messy ponytail and put on her running gear, hoping that the fresh morning air could help her; besides, she needed the exercise, after weeks spent sitting in her office or at conferences.

She started to run, mindlessly, and without really noticing, she got to the flea market where she and Jane had gone that one time. She stopped running, with a small smile on her face, and walked across the different vendors, between the crowded space, trying to remember faces and names that Jane had introduced her to that Saturday.

Wondering here and there, she reached the nice lady who sold vintage clothes, and without being aware of it, she started looking through the racks for the red dress. The nice lady was busy talking with some costumers, schoolgirls who were looking at dresses probably for prom, and the cop decided that, if she could still look for her dream dress on her own. After all, how hard could it be to find what she was looking for? And yet, as much as she rummaged through the gowns, the dresses and the jackets and coats, she couldn’t find it.

“Can I help you with anything?” The nice lady said, appearing at Teresa’s back like from thin air and making the cop jump. Teresa closed her eyes, a hand on her heart to calm her raging heartbeat.

“Uhm…” Teresa started, at loss of words; but the woman’s smile was kind and reassuring, and soon she started to talk, suddenly at easy. “Last month I came here with a friend.” Teresa said, blushing. “He was talking with the guy from the stand next to yours, about some lamps.”

The nice lady nodded, a strange light that Teresa couldn’t really explain appearing in her  eyes. She guessed it wasn’t so strange, though; Jane was definitely the kind of man who left an impression on people, especially if they were females- it really didn’t matter if they could be his mother or even his grandmother.

“Oh, yes, the man with the blonde rebel curls.” The woman said, her eyes turned dreamy. Teresa lifted an eyebrow, now one hundred percent sure that that light in the woman’s eyes had indeed been caused by the memory of Jane’s appeal. “Such a handsome man. I saw him around here quite often.”

Teresa smiled, but a bit uneasy. Yes, she had already been in love with handsome guys who were front and center in the fantasies of other girls, but she had never been in the position of being believed to be the lucky girl to hold their hearts in her hands, like the lady seemed to imply with her looks. It made her blush like the Catholic Schoolgirl she hadn’t been in quite a long time, and she really didn’t know how to answer to that. What was she supposed to say, that she and Handsome had broken up? She wasn’t really in the mood. She knew women like that lady, and she didn’t feel like being patted on the back and pitied because a relationship was over. It definitely wasn’t her style.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you had a dress on display, it was red with white polka dots all over, halter style  and with a white petticoat…” Teresa started, hopeful. Maybe the dress simply wasn’t there, who knew.

The lady nodded, her eyes wide open in recognition. Teresa was again hopeful: who knew, maybe… maybe there was still hope.

“Yes, I think I remember it… it was an original vintage, and yet it was in excellent condition, right?”

“Yes!” Teresa exclaimed, more and more hopeful by the second, but then, she saw that the lady saddened, and she understood that her little dream wasn’t going to get true.

“I’m so sorry, I sold it few weeks ago. But…” the woman said, looking through the ranks with expert eyes. “If you like the genre, I have something similar in black?”

But Teresa shook her head. “No, I was just… I just wanted to see if the red dress was still here, I guess.”
“You know,” the lady said, her eyes a bit sad, but wise and deep. “If you find something that you want, you have to hurry up, or you could lose them once and for all.”

Right, Teresa thought to herself  as she said thank you and started to run back home. As the breeze hit her and reddened her fair skin, she shed few tears. She couldn’t understand why the dress had been that important, why she felt like she needed to have it. When she felt that the air was burning her lungs, she slowed down, and as she walked between the crowd, she saw blond, rebel curls in the distance. She got closer and closer, sure that it was Jane, that he was back and that she finally could make things all right between them, but a brunette approached him, kissing him on the neck, and when the man turned, Teresa realized that she didn’t know his face.

She closed her eyes and turned around, but on the way home, Teresa couldn’t forget the lady’s words, as she repeated them again and again in her mind like on autopilot.

If you find something that you want, you have to hurry up, or you could lose them once and for all.

"So, how’s life in dear old LA?” Danny asked over the weekend, while they were eating at their usual spot. As always, Jane wasn’t too famished, but in the last few weeks many thoughts had crossed his mind and kept him from concentrating on his own well-being; thankfully, others had dedicated themselves to him. Even if he still had troubles accepting it.

“Ah, you know, the city that never sleeps…” he answered with nonchalance, playing with the food like he was a moody teenager. Which was exactly how he felt, especially for what concerned matters of the heart.

“Isn’t that New York?” Danny asked, quizzically, just to shake his head soon afterward. He really didn’t care. After all, he had lived in Los Angeles too, knew the city and disliked it enough to prefer Sacramento. He didn’t care if people often believed LA to be the capitol city and if even the Governor’s wife was rumored to prefer the Stars’ city; he loved there and then.  “Anyway, how’s working with the LAPD as a proper consultant and not a conning psychic?”

Jane sent an evil glare in the direction of his friend/former brother-in-law, and grunted something to himself; Danny, despite his many talents as a former con-artist himself, didn’t get it, and somehow he felt relieved. He guessed that, whatever it was, it couldn’t be nice. The blonde stood in silence, and then, looking around to avoid having people eavesdropping on them, he whispered something to Danny.

“I’m starting to freak out.” He admitted, not knowing how serious he was. “My direct superior, Deputy Chief Johnson, is from the South, you know, those Belles, Gone with the wind kind of women?” Danny nodded, already laughing under his breath. He wondered how it was possible that that kind of woman was deputy chief of police. Surely she couldn’t be a badass, not when all he could do was imagine a Scarlett O’Hara kind of woman, dressed like a little, young shepherdess from an old Easter postcard.

“There’s nothing to laugh at, Danny. That woman feeds people! She gives them… sweets and….food for the soul and…all those huge southern dinners…” He paused, looking in front of himself a little scared. “And then, here she is, interrogating a suspect, going all CIA on them, and you can’t tell her you don’t want to have dinner at her place and with her whole family, because once you’ve seen her interrogating a suspect, and manipulating them into saying whatever floats her boat… and, all the other things she does to get the job done… you’ve been scarred for life, all right?”

Jane sighed, and Danny looked at him, shaking his head. “All right. So, you don’t want to talk about it…” he said, reassigned.

“About my boss? No! I want to sleep at night!” Not that he actually got any sleep at night, but the little he did, he didn’t want to talk about that sweet, and yet rather scary, woman.

“Ok…” Danny sighed, but immediately stopped as Jane sent him another deadly glare. It was obvious he wasn’t thinking about his boss, but if the consultant didn’t want to talk about what was going through his mind- aka a certain brunette with green eyes who happened to be a cop -so be it. Maybe, if they kept talking, sooner rather than later Jane would talk about her on his own accord. Because if there was something that Danny had gotten from years and years of therapy with Dr. Sophie Miller, was that keeping it all inside wasn’t good. The younger man started to play with his drink, the rays of the sun shining through the semi-full glass. Jane stopped to eat, and turned to look at his “relative”, busy looking outside the window. So many things had changed since they first met. Danny wasn’t any longer a carnie boy birthed and raised on the road. He had a proper life, a job, a family of his own, he wore expensive clothes that he would have never dreamt about in his old life. But sometimes, just sometimes, his eyes betrayed a troubled childhood. Expressive eyes- just like Angela’s.

“Mum wants to get back to Europe.” Danny said, a bit absently, and Jane nodded. He knew that Mary Margareth Ruskin was British, and had always wanted to get back home one last time before dying; she wasn’t getting any younger, and her daughter and grandchild’s death had been the last straw; she had never been the same since, but lately, Jane knew she hadn’t been well. He always knew: Mary Margareth, Daniel and Danny had always been family. Even after what he had done. Even with all the pain he had caused Angela with his behavior and his inability to leave completely his old life behind after they escaped the carnival.

When Patrick didn’t even nod, Danny leaned closer to his brother-in-law. “Ok, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Jane answered, sending himself to hell mentally. He had just made the stupidest mistake that he could have done in his line of work: he had repeated Danny’s sentence. He knew that he should have never done so: it was a clear indicator of a lie.

“Ok, so, first, you repeated my sentence, something that, as you told me many times, is indication that you want to build in me a false sense of security and trust. Which, in short, means that you are lying. Second, I feel for those poor fries you are manhandling.”

Jane looked at his plate, where, indeed, his fries looked much more like mashed potatoes. “It’s about my neighbor. Well, actually, my ex neighbor…”

Danny suddenly smiled, his eyes huge, like he was hit an idea- he probably only missed the huge bulb on his head. “Oh, right, the one who complained about the noise… what was her name?” he paused, for dramatic effect, like he didn’t know what he was talking about, or that Teresa Lisbon had been the center of Jane’s thoughts since that faithful day. “Teresa, right?”

Jane sighed. He should have never taught Danny about the memory palace.

Jane looked around, then scratched the back of his head. He really didn’t feel like talking about this with Danny at all, but they weren’t just family, they were friends, and Danny had been the one to always push him to move on, to find a woman to love and have a family, now that he was still young. “I was kind of… dating her. Before moving to LA, I mean.”

Danny looked at him like a little puppy, but he didn’t seem too surprised. “Oh, God, Annie was right. You behave like a kid with the girls you like.” He shook his head, amused. “How you annoyed her with the noise, it was practically the grown-up version of grabbing her pony-tail.”

Jane shook his head, amused, glad to be able to talk to Danny face-to-face again. It wasn’t just that he had missed him in LA- he had missed him after Angela’s death. The three of them had always been friends, and even if after her passing he had kept in check, he had always kept a part of him locked away. But now, now somehow they were back to square one, and he felt better, more free, less guilty.

“So, what happened?” Danny asked, and Jane, after a brief hesitation, recalled the last events. He talked again, about when he had first met the cop, and told Danny about how their relationship had developed, from tentative acknowledgement to a sort of friendship to something much deeper. Until she had practically thrown him out of her life. “So I decided that you all were right and it was time to move on, or, come back to origins, or whatever, and I accepted Chief Delk’s offer.”

Danny sighed, looking at his warm beer, shaking his head. “Wow. I guess it hurt pretty badly, uh?”

More than Jane would have thought possible, given what he had been through. It felt like someone, namely Teresa Lisbon, had pulled his heart out of his chest, stepped on it and then kicked it, stating that they hadn’t been in a relationship but just a few rounds of sex, and that her life, and her future, was with Ray Haffner and that her career depended on Bertram’s opinion of her and what people at the office said of her life.

He had believed that time (and space) was going to heal all wounds, but he should have known better: the more time passed, the more he missed Teresa.

“But, can’t say I don’t understand her, though.” Danny added, and sighed as he saw Jane’s lifted eyebrows. “Listen, I know she shouldn’t have behaved that way, but there are jobs that request all of you. That need you to be, well, completely clean. And if her career in law enforcement is that important to her…”

“Important? Her job is her life. It’s everything. She even dates within the job!” he almost screamed. Danny could hear the frustration, and he was sent back in time, when they were all teenagers, and Patrick was only a friend, begging for advice because Danny’s own sister didn’t want to date him.

“Listen.” Patrick said, his hands covering his tired eyes. “I never asked her to let go of her job, or her career. I just…” he paused, and sighed, feeling as defeated as ever before. At some level, Danny knew that Patrick had always accepted Angela and Charlotte’s deaths, that a small, rational part of his brain had acknowledged right from the start that it wasn’t his fault. But this, this was something he had never seen on his friend’s face before. “I just wanted to be on the same level with her job. I wanted to know that…” he paused, and for a second, he shone, even if he was teary. “I wanted to know that I was as important to her as she was to me.”

Danny Ruskin had always been a male- even if people tended to assume he had a very prominent feminine side – but he had to admit that Patrick’s admission of love for Teresa (a woman who wasn’t his sister) was moving him to tears.

“Can we change subject?” Patrick asked, the food cold, and the tea wasted. He didn’t want to keep talking about Teresa, and how stupid he had been, thinking back to the day he had decided to sort of admit his love for her.

“And here I thought you had it bad for my sister…”

Jane sighed, and shook his head. Yes, bad didn’t even start to cover how he felt for Teresa, but he couldn’t compare his relationship with Angela to what he had briefly had with Lisbon: he had been a different man back then, just a boy. What he knew was that he had always felt unworthy of love, and even if he still felt so, damn him if he didn’t want Teresa nevertheless. She was everywhere, under his skin, in his mind and heart. He missed her smile, her warmth. He had been tempted tons of time to just pick up his phone and call, beg for another chance, but at the end, he had always been too proud. Or maybe, too smart.

“I should have gotten it from her first note.” Jane mumbled, quite annoyed with himself. He sighed, and shook his head; he felt like hiding behind his hands once again, but he was sick of Danny’s amused grin- he was still a man with his own pride, after all, and there was just so much teasing he could tolerate.

“Teresa, she is so frail, Danny. She is though on the surface, but she just wants to find someone who would swear to protect and save her from anything and anyone. But she is too scared to admit it, even to herself.” He paused, shaking his head. His eyes were sad, full of longing and regret. “She thinks that if she allows people to see the real her, they’ll judge and underestimate her. She doesn’t understand that I’d never judge her for this. It’s…it’s the reason I love her, that she can be so frail, and yet so strong.”

Suddenly, Jane smiled a little smile, and almost laughed to himself. Here, he had said it out loud, confessed his love, admitted that he could feel once again that emotion that he had believed lost to him after Angela and Charlotte’s loss. But Teresa had showed him that he could be twice blessed in his lifetime, that moving on was right. That day, holding her hand before his wife’s grave, had opened a sea of possibilities, of new chances for him.

And yet, he had lost them all. All because he had believed it was possible to change her, even if just a little bit.

“And you want to know what’s ironic? I tell her that she is scared of commitment and getting hurt by someone she loves, and she tells me that I am the one scared! Me!” He didn’t dare to say more about the subject, but when he lifted his eyes to look at Danny, expecting the young man to agree with him, he saw that his companion couldn’t meet his gaze. And there was just one reason for Danny to do so: he agreed with Teresa. “If I were scared of moving on, or whatever you think, I wouldn’t have accepted the job in LA.”

“Jane, I didn’t say that…” Danny defended himself, lifting his hands in surrender. He hated being on the wrong side of his former brother-in-law.

“I didn’t move to LA to forget Teresa, all right? I was just sick of listening to everybody telling me that I had to move on and stop feeling guilty!” But even to his own ears, the excuse sounded lame. The truth was that he had done exactly that: he had moved to LA because he didn’t want to see her any longer, and this sudden understanding hit him like a mace. Angela had always been right: he was a master with the others, but he couldn’t understand himself, couldn’t read people when he was involved too deep with them, their lives too interlaced.

“Paddy, Delk and Pope had tried to lure you there for over two years, and then, suddenly, after you meet her, and you tell me she kind of left you, you accept the gig? Sorry pal, but you’ve been the one telling me things such as coincidences don’t exist and everything is connected” Danny suddenly paused, and lowered his voice, his tone and his look serious. “Patrick, I’d love for you to have gone there because you’ve stopped feeling guilty for what happened to Angela and Charlie. But we both know it’s not the truth.”

Jane focused his eyes on the food, because he didn’t have the strength to face Danny. He was right: he had started to forgive himself, but there was still a lot to do before he could reach his destination. Besides, he felt the fear of falling back into old habits would be there, at his side, forever, and that if he would returned to that man once again he would remember what had happened, return to that empty road once again. And this time, maybe, for the rest of his existence. With Teresa at his side, he would have never return to that man again. He knew it.

“Listen, Patrick, either you accept the truth- that it wasn’t your fault- or you decide that you are guilty until the end, and face life with your head high, and start being happy again.” Danny paused. “If you were ever happy to begin with.”

Jane smiled. Yes, he had been, for few instances every now and then, but he had never really had time. As a child, he had  never understood the meaning of the word because of his father, and after he and Angela had eloped, he had been too busy with his “job”, making money so his family could be happy and carefree, he had been too blinded by fame. And then, there had been only regrets, fear and guilt. Things he had been able to leave at his back for just  a matter of days, when he had been in Teresa’s arms. But now that ship had sailed, and he was still on the land.

“Have you ever thought about talking with her?” Danny asked, and Jane lifted his eyebrows, like to ask who Danny was talking about. “In case you were wondering, I’m talking about the two-headed elephant in the next room.” He paused, and shook his head when Jane still looked at him oblivious. “I was talking about Teresa, you idiot. Listen, we agree on the fact that you love her and you miss her, but have you thought about the fact that if she feels the same, and she is scared, maybe, just maybe, the distance made her realize how much you matter to her. And if you don’t talk with her…” Danny didn’t end the sentence, he just opened his arms wide in invitation, and then crossed them over his chest.

Jane stared at him in disbelief. He knew that Danny was, well, a nice person, but that he could be that good, it was a strange knowledge. Maybe he had underestimated him, but if he had been wrong about Danny, and if Angela had been right about his inability of reading the people he cared the most about, maybe… maybe… He grinned, amused. “Your sister was right. Underneath that con-man façade, you do have a heart of gold.”

He left his seat, and kissed soundly his former relative on the cheek. And then, he run out of the bar: he had an angry little princess to win over. 



      Like she had done many times in the last few weeks, once in her apartment, Teresa sighed and fell, exhausted, on her couch. She didn’t care if her clothes were a mess and if she was sweaty, after all, that was how Jane had liked her the most, and Jane…

She lowered her head in her lap. Jane was in LA now, and she had lost something so precious to her, before she could even realize it. Just like the red dress. Now all she could do was moving on, and learn her lessons for the next time.

If there was going to be a next time. She had never fallen so quickly and so much for someone before, and she was scared that history wasn’t going to repeat itself. She had been crazy in love with him, and she would have probably been in love with that special, crazy man until her last day on this Earth. She shook her head. She was an idiot, and on top of that, she was a lone idiot who missed the love of her life. Missed him like the air she needed to breath. Like life itself.

She heard the door next to hers closing with a sonorous thud, and remembered that it was Saturday: Jane had probably arrived later that night, if he had once again came by car. She stiffed and thought back to her youth. What did she use to do when she was sad and depressed, back in Chicago? She cried, alone in her room, in silence, or she ran, and ran and ran and ran once more, until she wasn’t so far from home that people didn’t even know who she was.

Closing her eyes, she decided that yes, now it was time to run, but not away, not to escape; she jumped on her feet, and ran to him, knocking at his door with her heart in her  throat. She was going to talk to him, open up and like hell if she was going to allow him to retreat or close the door in her face like that very first day.

But nothing happened. No one arrived to open the door she was knocking so impatiently on.

She sighed and fell on the floor. She had been so sure it had been him, when she had heard the steps and the sound of the door. But she decided that she wasn’t going to give up yet. Patrick always returned on the weekends. It was just a matter of time. She was going to wait for him where she stood.

Unless... unless he showed up with a woman. God. That would have been embarrassing. She stood, and decided to go back home and make a plan, but then she remembered that her damn plans had put her in that hideous predicament, so she decided that her best plan of action was to stay there and wait for him, no matter what. She had gone back to sit, when she saw with the corner of her eye that someone had approached her apartment and was about to knock.

And that someone, as beautiful as always with his stubble, with his wide shoulders, strong arms and deep eyes, opened in surprise, was Patrick Jane.

Her Patrick. How did she trick herself into believing that she could go on without staring into those pale blue pools every day? That she didn’t need him in her life?

“I couldn’t find the dress any longer.” She said with teary eyes when they were just a few feet apart; when she saw he didn’t understand her, she went on, until there was just a foot between their bodies. “I went back to the flea market, but someone had already bought it. The saleswoman told me that… that if you find something that you want, you have to hurry up, or you could lose them.”

“Teresa, I….” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.” But he did, oh, he really did. But Teresa had been right: he was afraid of this as much as she did, and even more so, because on top of that, there was also the guilt of loving again.
“I just, I didn’t know, Jane.” she said, shaking her head, sobbing slightly. “Back then, I didn’t know what I do now. I think you are the red dress. But I had to spend so many hours alone in that huge office before I could understand what I really needed. And it wasn’t getting Minelli’s position. When I got my promotion… I didn’t feel any of what I thought I was going to. It didn’t change me.”

“You made it?” he asked, sweetly; she nodded, and he added his congratulations. He was really happy, even if he hadn’t thought it possible; after all, hadn’t that very position destroyed any chance at happiness they ever had?

“No, just… don’t say it. I’m always alone, and I spend my time either in my office doing paperwork or in Bertram’s office in budget meetings. And when I finally get at home…” She paused, taking a big breath, her eyes in his own ones. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Oh, Teresa… I know, dear. I know.” He admitted, diminishing the space between them once again.

She nodded, her eyes glassy with tears. She hadn’t opened up that way to anyone in such a long time, but with Jane, it felt right, like she could be herself and be safe, finally. “I moved here, bought this apartment, because I wanted to forget my past, I wanted to have something that I lacked when I was young. I wanted to have a home, but, I didn’t know…” She sniffed, and paused. “It had been a home only with you. And now, when I come back, I dream of drinking tea in the morning with you, of arguing because my freezer is filled with frozen food and I never cook. I want to take a bath in your tub while you sit on the floor and tell me that I am crazy because I don’t appreciate enough old things.”

His eyes shone in the dark of the corridor, as glistening as her own. “For real?”  It wasn’t really a question. Now, he knew what he was supposed to look for. Now he could, finally, read her, fully.

“I’ve been blind to not see it before. I don’t care about your past, Jane, or what you want to do with your life. I just want to be with you. Because…” She paused, and took a big breath, looking for the courage she knew she had, hidden in her heart. “Because I am in love with  you, and I know it’s crazy and I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t know what you feel and what it means for you, but I love you and I want a second chance with you and....” he stopped her rambling, mid-sentence, silencing Teresa with a peck on the lips. When they parted, his eyes were dark, full of desire and the need of having her, at his side, forever, and there was a plea in her gaze. She cupped his cheek, enjoying the sensation of the stubble, something she had always loved on a man. “Please Patrick. I don’t want to lose you. Do you want to be mine?” she asked in a low, soft voice. A voice that he couldn’t believe belonged to strong, determined Teresa. And yet, here she was, opening herself up to him. Being real, for once.

Jane didn’t answered, and even if he had kissed her, Teresa wondered if it hadn’t been to just shut her up. Maybe it was too little. Maybe it was too late. She didn’t know, didn’t understand, and without wanting it, she started to cry without any control, sobbing in his vest.

“You were right Jane, I should have understood it sooner. But please, give me another chance, and I promise you that…”
Once again he silenced her with a kiss, bit this time it was so much different, not just a peck. He slammed her against the wall, and Teresa wrapped her legs around his hips; he supported her weight with a hand on her ass, the other on her side, grazing the underside of her breast. Her hands never stopped running in his glorious hair, grabbing it forcefully.  They kissed frenzied, a kiss of need and abandon and coming back home, like water of an oasis in the middle of the desert.

They finally parted, their foreheads touching, their breathing stressed. “I love you too, Teresa.” He admitted. He took a moment to calm his breathing, then, seeing that she was still looking at him, in silence, he went on. “I wanted to tell you that I had enough of making mistakes. That I was ready to fight for the woman I am in love with.”

She put a finger on his lips. “Jane, you don’t…”

But he shook his head. “No, let me finish. You were right. I was too proud, and, I don’t think I didn’t want to fight for you because of the guilt. It was just an excuse. I was scared, Teresa, of losing, again, someone I cared for so much. It was easier to pretend it was just fun. But it’s never been about it.”

“Oh, Patrick…” she sighed, nuzzling his neck, her eyes closed in bliss. “We were both scared. I still am…” She confessed, but she didn’t shiver: in her admission, there was strength, and hope.

“I know, and I am scared too, love. But I am done with hiding.”

“And I ready to risk my heart, now.” She said, her lips smiling against the rough skin of his neck. He shivered in desire, remembering how she felt around him.

“How could I not love someone who writes me using words such as cease and desist?” he asked, remembering their first encounter, when he had desired her just like that, wanting a woman for the first time after two years of celibacy. “I wanted you from the start, Teresa. Even when you believed that I was stealing your water.”

She laughed, the marvelous sound reverberating through his skin, through his whole being. He had forgotten what happiness felt like- and now he knew once again, and only because  of that sound. “I think I’ll never accuse you again of such a crime.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, taking her in his arms and walking the distance to his door without grace. “It would have been hard anyway, as we’ll share our water from now on.”

He kissed her again, sweetly, while Teresa looked for his keys in his pants pockets, and opened the door, still in his arms, like a new bride. “So… what do you have in mind?” she asked, her voice husky with desire and full of mirth- just like he liked it, like he had always thought it should have been.

“Something romantic.” He said, serious, with love in his eyes- the same love he could read in her eyes. A love that she had been finally ready to admit, and that had probably always been there; they had both been through a lot since her days in Chicago and his troubled youth, and right now they were in different cities, but she didn’t care. They had come so far: she was sure that they could do it.

No, she corrected herself, as she left her head on his chest and felt the steady rhythm of his heart to lull her to sleep after so many restless nights, feeling that there, in his room, she was finally at home. We’ll make it. No matter what. Whatever Jane’s plan is.