It was past his bedtime, an hour past. He couldn’t sleep. His chest ached for want of Her.
They had made a considered decision: His business was flagging and needed Him to make it a priority. He would spend less time with Her and more focusing on His business. They knew it meant the weeks of living together would be put on pause, but in the long run it would mean He could move to Her city.
They had now been apart for most of a month.
Tonight He longed for Her. He longed for Her in a way that transcended sex. For the last couple weeks porn had lost any appeal. He didn’t want sex, He wanted Her. All of Her. The intimacy. Making love. The holding after. Waking up together the next day. The Knowing.
Tonight the emptiness of His arms screamed loud.
He pulled a pillow into His chest and willed it to become Her.
At 3:30 am He woke and reached across the bed for Her, finding only a pillow. It startled Him and He realized She wasn’t there. Or, more precisely, He wasn’t there. He was in his tiny apartment and She was 100 miles away, sleeping off Her celebratory/consoling beers from the night before. The ‘boys had won, but Tony had broken his collarbone.
It was still early – He usually got up around 4:30 – so He took a few moments to savor Her in His mind.
He missed Her this morning. He missed holding Her, feeling Her against him. He missed the way She felt as He caressed Her as she slept. He missed waking before Her, His face tickled by Her hair. Smelling Her. Seeing the curve of Her shoulder in the light penetrating from the hall.
He missed the sex, of course, but this morning He missed the intimacy of them, in bed, just together.
This morning He missed the best part.