TROUVAILLE ... l.danes (REWRITE)

chapter thirty-six; the present

SHE COULD DIE HAPPY

two-thousand-and-three

SUNLIGHT FILTERS through open blinds.

She stretches, allowing the mattress to swallow her up as she listens to the cawing of the birds in the distance. How early is it? She can't even remember her alarm going off. Maybe she woke up before it for once, but, oddly enough, she feels entirely rested. She feels better than rested. She could lay in this sun all day, let it wash over her like a cat who cannot be bothered moving from its delicious spot in the window.

Her arms stretch above her head and the duvet falls away from her chest. It's colder than normal. She reaches for it and her hand brushes against bare skin. Her eyes snap open and her head tilts down to see her naked body staring back at her.

Oh, wait.

She takes a quick glance of the room to realise this is not her parent's house. Worse, she knows exactly where this is. There are Luke's dirty dishes in the sink. His shirts hanging on the back of the furniture. Jess' shoes kicked wherever he can reach.

She twists her head to the man laying next to her.

Oh.

It's Luke, one bare arm twisted around her body. He's got a tattoo on his shoulder. She can't quite make out what it's supposed to be, but, without thinking, her finger traces the image staring up at her. His skin is warm beneath her touch.

Luke.

Last night comes rushing back to her.

Luke kissing her in the gazebo. Leading her to his diner. The door slamming shut behind them as he bent her over a table to kiss her, their hands grappling to grab onto one another. Leading her up the stairs, tugging off each other's clothes in the process. His shirt might still be on the staircase. Her shoes definitely are. Leading her into the apartment, promising her that Jess was staying with Rory for the night, the bed creaking under their weight. Her fingers in his hair, his lips tasting every inch of her body, his name falling from her mouth like a whispered prayer.

Seventeen years later and look where they are.

She reaches for the patch of sunlight kissing his cheek and brushes her fingers against the stubble there. How long has she wanted to wake up like this, trapped under his arm, the memories of their sex-filled night replaying over and over in her head.

"Hi."

She burrows closer to him. "Hi to you, too." He smiles and his eyes slowly start to inch open until they're completely focused on her. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. When he pulls back, he props himself up on one arm to lean over her. Her hand, instantly, reaches to trace his jaw. She kissed there. So many times. He turns his head to kiss her wrist.

Oh. She could die happy.

She can't bring herself to speak above a whisper. "So, this is a thing now? Us?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Do you?"

Luke chuckles and nods. She nods too. Is this what people mean when they say they are so happy they could burst? Because, right now, she's pretty sure her heart is bursting right out of her chest. Her face hurts. Has she really been smiling that much? She can't seem to stop.