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I tapped him on the chest with the flat of my hand, “Don’t. Ever. Do that again, baby! I’ve only just found you!”
Tears welled up.
“Don’t, my darling.”
“Don’t do that again to me,” I tried to smile at him but a tear got loose.
My tall, dark, handsome man. His naturally deep-set eyes looked rested now rather than haunted. He had a steady, starry glimmer in them instead of the hallucinatory paranoia.
I felt the wonderful tiny popping explosions under my skin I was starting to recognize as Leighton, enveloping me with his eyes, his energy, himself.
“Kiss me, Miss Freckles.” I did, but lightly.
“You smell like coconuts and watermelon. Very sexy,” I teased.
“All in a night’s work,” he teased back in that deep bass voice I loved.
He was starting to sound like his old self. Maybe.
I fingered his short thick hair and caressed his head.
“Drink. You foolish, foolish man.”
He loved me with his eyes as he did. “Thank you.”
I wasn’t gonna be sweet-talked, “If you insist on acting like mad inventor Tony Stark burning the candle at both ends, I’m gonna hafta treat you like him.”
“Kiss me, my darling Miss Potts. Then sleep.”
I did. We did.
When we woke a couple of hours later, he and his very stiff thickness proved to me that he felt better.
We dozed off again, even before he had a chance to pull out of me. When we woke, we were facing, wrapped around each other. Warm.
I jumped right into the heart of the matter, “You have control over this, you know.”
He asked, “Over what?”
“You asked me once how I survived the childhood I had. It was by controlling what I could. Like you have to now. Controlthis,Leighton. Take care of yourself, baby.Please. I don’t want to lose you when I’ve only just found you!”
Leighton
She was right. I was being foolish. Selfish.
I held her so we could see each other, “I’ve always lived in ups and downs. Cycles of energy, I guess you could say. Or cycles of creativity.”
She pushed up on an elbow with concern on her face. I calmed her with a shake of my head, “Oh, not illness. Not bipolar or manic stuff or even ADHD. Mom and Dad made sure to test for all that. It’s just that I get involved in creating something and nothing else can capture my attention. I work on it obsessively till it’s done or till it utterly fails.”
Samantha said, with a little teasing arch in her brow, “Ah, so you do revel in the mad scientist persona?”
We were still in bed, holding each other. “I never thought of it like that. Hmm. Could you handle a mad scientist?”
She tapped my chest like before, with the flat of her palm, “I just have, you silly man! Who do you think I was taking care of all night, Bruce Banner?”
I laughed, “Going all DC-Marvel superheroes on me, are you, Miss Potts?”
I wanted to change the subject, so I asked, “How did Davie and Jerry manage with an eleven-year-old in the house? How did that work?”
