Jefferson
My head is pounding as I wake up to an empty bed. I scrunch my eyes closed as my hand slowly runs over the cold sheets, feeling the remaining depression of someone's body pressing into the mattress. I know who had laid here beside me, but the knowledge of their identity begins to fill me with an overflowing sense of dread as the memories of my actions last night come to mind. I slowly rise into a sitting position and stare at the closed door with a rather dark expression. That door is always closed, even when I try to prop it open it always seems to find a way to close itself off again. I find myself to be rather connected with such a door.
The floor is cold against my bare feet and I stare down in puzzlement. I am certain that when I had flopped into bed drunkenly last night I was wearing both shoes and socks, but both appear to be missing. My feet are becoming horridly chilled as I stand beside my bed before finding the courage to make my way through my bedroom, towards the door that always persist to remain shut.
I peek outside of the door and find an empty hallway. There is not a single trace of Hamilton having even been in this hallway. I silently tread out into the hallway and peek down the hallway and see that both the guest bedroom light as well as the bathroom are out, empty. Did he even stay here over night? My memory of last night is rather fuzzy, but I do recall Eliza being present and asking a rathe dreaded question to Alexander.
"Do you still love me?"
I have never wanted to hear the answer to a question before. My chest feels heavy with shame, yet I can't bring myself to feel truly guilty for my desire. I hear a faint clattering noise from down the stairs and I turn to stare down the staircase in curiosity. All that is visible to me is a faint shifting shadow traveling across the floor. My heart flutters in my chest as I make my way quickly down the stairs and see Alexander cooking in the kitchen. His eyes are trained on what he is doing and his hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, though a few strands have escaped, draping over the angles of his face.
"Good morning." He greets, not sparing me a single glance. I repeat his greeting in a murmur as I go to sit at the counter, not far away from where he is cooking. His muscles are relaxed as he continues to stir a number of breakfast delicacies that I wasn't aware he knew how to cook. He has made corn beef hash, beautiful hash browns, golden sunny side up eggs, and from the smell of things there are fresh biscuits baking in the oven. He never ceases to amaze me. "I am surprised that you woke up on your own."
"Did I disrupt your plan to wake me up with a bucket of ice water?" I ask teasingly. He merely glances at me before briefly glancing over at the sink. I follow his gaze curiously and find there to be a rather large bucket sitting in my sink filled to the brim with water and a few floating ice cubes. "I was joking."
"I was not." He murmurs in response. I take a good look at his face, noting that the skin around his eyes are crinkled and tense. Is he angry with me? It seems a stupid question to ask myself considering the fool I had made of myself in front of his wife. It is only natural that he would be angry with me, if our situations were reversed I can't even begin to imagine how furious I would be. He parts from the stove and removes the biscuits from the oven, they glow a beautiful golden brown on the surface. They're perfect. I desperately want to say something to him, anything. The need is so great, yet I find myself sitting here gaping like an idiot as he serves up a ridiculous amount of food onto a plate and putting it in front of me. "Eat your breakfast."
"Thank you." I whisper as I duck my eyes away from his. He says nothing as he serves his own plate and comes to sit a seat away from me. The distance is painful, but I can't bring myself to say a word about it. We eat in silence. I enjoy the taste of his food, simply enjoying the fact that this is most likely the first and only time that he will ever cook for me. A gentle smile curves at the corner of my lips at the thought, but it quickly falls as Alexander slams his hands against the counter hard enough to make me jump.
"What in the hell were you thinking last night?!" He snaps as he turns his vicious eyes towards me. "Did it feel good? Drinking so much that you acted like a child in front of every single individual that was younger than you! Your maturity knows no bounds!"
"I was hurt Alexander, yo-"
"That's what you do when things get difficult? Drink until you can't think of your problems. What a great solution." He snaps.
"It wouldn't have happened if you had simply told me the truth!"
"I told you everything that you had asked about." He turns away from me, taking another large bite of food.
"Dont' start getting technical and try to blame me, I know that you were a lawyer but that won't help you here. You didn't tell me that you were still married, or that you were looking for another place to stay. You kept that information to yourself because you felt that I didn't need to know. Why? Tell me why I didn't need to know."
"You really shouldn't eavesdrop on my conversations." He mutters before taking a sip from his glass of water. "Not everything that you hear from one side of a phone conversation is always clear."
"Then enlighten me." I lean against the counter and look at him. He meets my heated gaze with a rather cool expression, his rage fire seeming to have died down as soon as I decided to fight back against it. "What have I misconstrued or misunderstood?"
"Eliza and I are still married, but that isn't going to be for very much longer." My eyes narrow in confusion as we both look at each other. "She called me this morning and told me to be expecting divorce papers in a day or so."
"But she asked if you still loved her." I can't keep the skepticism out of my voice and Alexander simply sighs in response to it.
"Yes, she also asked me for another favor, but that isn't important right now. She asked that question to gauge if there was any possible way for our marriage to be mended. After our discussion this morning it was concluded that it could not and that it would be best for both parties for our union to be dissolved."
"What about your kids?"
"I will still be able to see them and be a part of their lives, I simply won't be living with their mother." His eyes meet mine pointedly. "On the topic of living situations, I haven't looked for another place to leave. I feel no need to look for anything at the moment, unless you intend for me to leave."
"You lied?"
"I was trying to seem in control of my own life." He grimaces slightly. "So I may have lied a little." A soft breath escapes me before I lunge towards him and capture his lips. He grunts in surprise and tries to push me off, but I hold onto his face tightly, pouring all of my love and relief into the kiss. He bites at my bottom lip harshly in an attempt to make me break the kiss, but I simply pull him closer and deepen the kiss making him fidget slightly in my hold.
His hands migrate to my shoulders as we continue to kiss. I feel his fingers curling around the fabric of my shirt, holding me tightly. My hands rest on his hips, pulling him to his feet and flush against me. A quiet moan escapes me as his tongue sensually dances along with mine, not a single shred of violence lingering in the kiss. He seems to be melting into the kiss and I can't help the smile that is forming on my lips. His fingers crawl up to the back of my neck and curl into the low hanging curls, threading his fingers through them until he has a strong grip.
This man is mine. He may not be capable of admitting it to himself or to anyone else, but his heart and body both belong to me. I won't allow for him to run out of my sight ever again. The only person who will ever be able to hold him, love him, kiss him is me and I intend to keep it that way.