Always Us

olivia's favorite

He had asked her once how she managed to wake up every morning launching straight into offense. Slightly embarrassed at the abrupt, mid-movie question, she had laughed nervously and answered, well, for one, I get to sleep next to you every night. That's kind of enough for me. The room had then gone quiet except for the subdued dialogue of the love scene on screen. And for a moment, she worried whether it had gotten too much. Whether he needed less of her than she needed of him.

It had still been early in their relationship, and she wondered whether she had gone wrong. There was no measure for how much someone should crave another, and that, along with his silent musing, was enough to raise doubts. Those were a long two minutes before his arm had looped around her neck to bring her closer. Get out of your head, he had murmured, I love it, and I love you.

And after that, he never asked again.

Twenty years have passed since that conversation, and Olivia wakes up to the sunlight spilling in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. It teeters at the window, and over the next few minutes it will slowly make its way in like a welcomed and respectful house guest, tucking itself into its regular armchair and sweeping along the familiar surfaces. She knows exactly what path it will follow because their bedroom had been designed specifically for this and for her.

Because at twenty-four, newly married and pregnant with her first child, Olivia had fallen in love with the morning sunlight. She loved the way it gently roused her, holding her hand and guiding her into the day. She loved the way its warmth hugged her little one so tenderly when, swollen-faced and sleepy, she'd stand right up against the glass and let her growing belly bask in the glow. But most of all, Olivia loved when her husband made slow love to her in it, his moves delicate as ever first thing in the morning.

To her, the sunlight had been hard proof that this house was meant to be theirs and that they'd spend the rest of her life living between these walls. Sure, it was their first home, but within the first few months, she had decided it'd also be their last. She never mentioned this decision to Spencer because she never felt the need. He was happy where she was happy. She knew that. So she went along life happily, making the space her own. And it wasn't until the day she came home to her little window gone that she realized how much Spencer had picked up on her adoration. The entire wall had been demolished, and for the next three days, just a thick sheet of plastic separated her sanctuary from the elements.

Now, the wood floors turn golden as the light creeps closer and closer to the edge of the bed. She reminisces on those early days, watching the sunlight pour into the room while she laid naked in bed, tucked into the sheets with her favorite person draped around her. Over the years, those days had become farther and fewer between as an unrelenting, and growing, bunch demanded their attention way before the first hints of daylight.

So when the warmth finally reaches her body, she relishes it, crawling up her bare leg to meet the hand that has found its way onto her waist. It's just about to reach his fingers when she's tugged away into the shadow that still claims residence on his side of the bed.

In false protest, she mumbles, "Hey!"

"It's quiet," he rasps sleepily, "which means... you're mine."

Gentle, his hands start their work, gliding down the curve of her waist and sweeping over the back of her thighs. Mini electric currents spark up under her skin's surface, and she's content to trade the sunlight for his touch. While he nibbles into her neck, she trails a fingertip along the sinewy muscle of his shoulder. She likes to think that after all these years, she contributed to at least some of the definition.

His tongue grazes up the shell of her ear, and she shivers, goosebumps exploding down her thigh. Immediately, his palm rubs against them, settling them back down. They haven't had a morning like this in a while, and even though he knows she loves the whimsicalness of it all, what he loves is her. So he takes his time, appreciating her for all she is.