"Are you hungry?"
Cheyenne shook her head. "Nah. I don't think I can eat anything right now." She rubbed her eyes. "I do feel like I could sleep. This medicine and all the excitement has drained my energy, but thanks for offering."
"No problem. If you need anything, let me know." He knelt down next to her and traced her jawline with his finger. "I'll be right here." He bent her head down to kiss her. "I love you."
She touched his cheek. "I love you, too. My only concern is that this is happening so fast between us. It might not work out. I don't think I can handle another divorce." Her eyes locked with Michael's. "Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure I'm who you want?"
"Without a doubt. Stop worrying about it. We're going to make it work. Okay?"
"Things are still difficult. It's not over yet and I don't want to cause anyone more trouble than what I already have. Gabrielle is dead. You got hurt. My sister has to have someone protect her and her family and her husband was murdered all because of me."
"Stop." His voice was firm. "It's not your fault. You need to get some rest." He kissed her again. "Don't stress yourself out. Things will turn out all right."
~
She awoke a few hours later and discovered Michael placing a plate on the T.V. table he had set up in front of her.
"Mm. Smells delicious."
He looked at her and smiled. "I hope you enjoy it."
"What is it?"
"Do you like chicken marsala?"
"You made it?" Michael nodded with an expression of pride. "Wow! A man who can cook. I like." He flashed a smile. If she had been standing, her legs would've gone out from under her.
He slid the tray toward her. "Do you need help sitting up? Or, do you even think you can sit up?"
"I think I can sit up thanks to the pain meds."
Michael leaned down and guided her into a sitting position. Once she was up, he moved the tray closer to her. She watched as he got his plate and sat next to her. She loved to see him in jeans and t-shirts. Mmm. He looked so sexy.
"You all right there?"
Her cheeks, which were already flushed, became even more so. Cheyenne rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah. I'm good; I was just waiting for you."
"Is that why your face is red?"
"Blame it on the meds," she said and shrugged while he raised an eyebrow and grinned. "What? You don't believe me?"
"I didn't say that." Michael winked at her.
"Mm hm. You don't have to. It's written all over your face."
"Okay," he replied and took a bite of food. "You'd better eat before your food gets cold."
"Yes boss." They laughed then and ate in silence.
~
Michael brought a sleeping bag and pillow and placed them on the floor next to the couch.
"Uh....what are you doing?" Cheyenne leaned over to watch him on the floor.
"Well," he began, without looking up, "I'll be sleeping here with you. I don't want you to be alone."
"Michael, I'll be fine here. Really. Go sleep upstairs. Don't make yourself uncomfortable."
"Baby, I'm at your beck and call."
"You're not my slave. You're my... fiancée." Cheyenne bit her lower lip and began to think how odd, yet wonderful that sounded. "That sounded strange to say it out loud."
"But it's nice."
"Yes," she said with a smile. "It is."
~
She tossed and turned for most of the night. All she could think about was Eric. He was never far from her thoughts. He was definitely going to haunt her no matter how she tried not to think of him, but no matter what happened, she would win in the end anyway. She would fight him-even if it was to the death.
Hopefully it would only be his death.