It was Monday night and the kids were all in bed. Fletch had invested in a blow-up mattress for Emma since the occurrence was becoming increasingly frequent. Jac was curled into Fletch's side as they sat on the couch, watching late night television with no real interest.
"I blame myself for Jasmine's death," Jac blurted out, stiffening slightly against Fletch as she realised she had said it out loud. "Sarah made me realise it in therapy on Friday and I wasn't going to tell you because I thought she was just psychoanalysing but she was right. I do blame myself."
Fletch reached for the remote and turned down the volume but said nothing; he was listening.
"If I'd been a better friend to Fran and I'd tried harder to be there for her, if I hadn't argued with Jasmine that day just because she was completely right about me then Fran wouldn't have been able to take advantage of the situation. Fran tried to break me and Jasmine apart but she didn't need to put in the effort, I did that all by myself."
Her voice was calm. She had spent enough time analysing every moment of that day and accepting what she part she had taken in it. Rationally, she knew it was not her fault and that she couldn't have prevented it in all honesty, but accepting everything that her fear of attachment had done was progress.
Jac didn't wait for him to speak, she knew he wouldn't. The only words he had were those of reassurance, those that would tell her she wasn't to blame and that she couldn't have done anymore to help. Instead he held her snugly and reminded her that he was right there if she needed him.
He placed a kiss into her hair and wondered why she had told him, not that he wasn't pleased. Maybe this meant she was opening up, maybe the walls were beginning to lower just a little.
For at least another ten minutes, they sat in a comfortable silence and absently watched whatever was on the television
"This show is pointless, shall we head up to bed?" Fletch suggested quietly. He received no response so carefully turned his head so he could see Jac's face, eyes shut, breathing steady, and absolutely knackered.
Carefully, he switched off the television and shifted out from underneath her, holding her up with his hand as he stood. Jac's legs were curled up in a way that made it easy for him to slip his arm under the crook of her knees and lift her, with his other hand supporting her back.
She was light in his arms, an easy weight to carry through from the living room and out to the staircase. Slowly, he managed to make his way to the top of the stairs where he was met by a confused Mikey.
"Is Jac okay, Dad?" he asked, hand resting of his door handle.
"Just tired, Mikey. Go back to bed," Fletch whispered back, stretching with his pointer finger to turn of the landing light and nudging his way into the master bedroom.
Masterfully, after years of practice carrying his children to bed single-handedly, he drew back the duvet on her side and set her down lightly. Pulling off his shirt and trousers, he rounded the bed and climbed in.
He drifted off quickly, more tired than he had thought he was. The two naturally curled into one another and slept soundly.
At 4:38, according to the alarm clock beside her, Jac woke.
In her mind, she found no recollection of how she made it to bed last night or why she was still fully dressed but sure enough, here she was. Fletch's warm palm was underneath the hem of her tee, resting loosely against her belly.
How she had gotten so lucky, she did not know. She rolled over so that she could look at him, noticing the way his nose was crinkled up and he was smiling just slightly in his sleep.
"I love you," she whispered so shallowly that she barely heard it herself. It felt like saying Macbeth in a theatre, or saying Bloody Mary in front of a mirror, it was tempting fate and yet she couldn't help herself.
He stirred in his sleep and she tensed up, waiting for him to still again before she allows herself to breathe.
Buried somewhere deep in her head, in a compartment that only ever enters her conscious mind in the small hours, is the fear that this will all crumble. She tried to ignore it, shuffling so she could nestle her face in the crook of Fletch's neck, wrapping herself in his presence to stop her mind from wandering.
Fletch pulled her closer in his sleep, mumbling something before settling again. She shut her eyes and let herself drift, clearing her mind as she rested in his embrace.
Until 6:30, she snoozed lightly, and then dragged herself up out of bed so she could grab the first shower before the kids were all fighting for it in the school rush.
She was back in the bedroom, wearing his dressing gown, when he woke. He opened his eyes to the bright sunlight of the morning streaming in and saw Jac stood at the foot of the bed, fresh faced with wet hair and he had never seen beauty like it.
"Good morning you," he grumbled out in his husky morning voice. "How long have you been awake?"
"Only about half an hour, thought I'd get in before the kids were fighting for it," she answered, smiling at how handsome he looked despite the squinting eyes and the bedhead. "You might wanna get on that, I definitely heard movement in Evie's room."
He groaned as he dragged himself out of bed, kissing Jac on the forehead as he passed her and eagerly headed for the bathroom. She rolled her eyes at him and returned her attention to the day ahead, glad that she wasn't working today.
Jac smiled to herself, in the best mood she had been in for a long while.
