Cross the Line

Part Fifteen

As she was leaving the dance floor, the DJ announced the final song. It had been a long and bizarre day, not one she wanted to repeat in a hurry, and she was looking forward to resting, Naomi was physically and emotionally shattered. But her path was blocked by Conor. Groaning as he pulled her back on to the dance floor, she virtually collapsed against him. His strong arms held her up and he hummed against her hair.

                “You ok?” he asked his mouth close to her ear.

She nodded, not telling his how dreadful she felt, “tired. I’m angry too that you seem to think everything is ok because you’ve changed your mind. You can’t throw the L-bomb around like that without screwing with someone’s mind!”

                “Sorry Naomi, I know today’s been hell. I promise we can talk tomorrow. Ok? Do you want to head up to bed? It’s almost midnight!” There was an earnest quality to his voice, but Naomi had had enough.

Disappointed that he didn’t re-declare his love for her here, with intention or purpose, she had to settle for the indirect possibly drunken whisper and wonder just how sincere it was. And where did that leave her? Love...it was a word that meant so much to her, hell, it was far more than a word. She imagined the man who’d say that to her would be the man she loved, the man she married. Instead she had Conor, or did she ‘have’ him? She had no proprietorial rights over him.  He’d been married before, and had his heart broken before. Did that mean that love was such an easy thing for him to profess? Maybe since he’d been hurt it meant nothing and he’d do and say what he needed to get her where he wanted her? She didn’t want to think that of Conor, but to her love meant everything, and she couldn’t help but balk at the way he’d so casually tossed the comment at her.

Too tired to fathom it out, and also unable to resist the thought of sleep, she allowed him to lead her out of the ballroom, bidding their good nights to all they passed.

In the room there was an awkward moment. Naomi had changed into her pyjamas, and coming out of the bathroom spotted Conor already in bed. Pulling back the duvet he patted the mattress beside him.

                “I’ll behave, I promise.”

Gratefully she slid into the bed and sighed as she relaxed, finally comfortable.

Naomi had no idea what time it was when she woke up. Reaching for the side table, her fingers closed around Conor’s stylish yet heavy Rolex. Pressing the side switch a light lit the silver face and told her it was almost nine am.

Rolling back on to the pillow she sighed.

                “What time is it?” Conor groaned from her right. Then groaned again when she told him. “Damn! Are we about to miss breakfast again?”

He rolled over to look at her, “I haven’t had a lie-in in years! You are either a very bad or a very good influence on me. I haven’t worked it out yet!”

Sighing she pulled herself into sitting, “I wouldn’t like to say! I’m just going to take a shower.”

Conor opened his mouth to suggest it was a good idea and join her, but her silent glare caused him to slump back down onto the bed. He was lost. At some point the previous day he had realised that this meant everything to him, she was starting to mean everything to him. It signalled that he had finally started to deal with his demons, and admit that Naomi may just about be the best thing that had happened to him. But she wasn’t responding to his change of plan, he’d thought she wanted him, that a commitment was everything. Now he realised it was an empty gesture. He had to find some way of showing her how serious he was. But how?