Good Enough

One year apart couldn't succeed to tear down what they'd built in the twenty years they'd spent together, he knew that now. After everything that needed to be said had been said, after genuine apologies and genuine regret, they were both even more determined to continue this fight together, side by side.

Diana had moved in with him somewhere along the line. For practical reasons, of course. It was easier to operate their business when they were both in the same place, now that they had to scale everything down without the ICA backing them up. Hidden away in the middle of nowhere, nobody would get close enough to listen in on their conversations. It was more than just convenient, it was much safer for both of them than their clandestine meetings in airports could've ever been.

And who would question a man and a woman living together; in a house that was too large for one person alone, and too beautiful to be wasted on someone like him?

47 had learned a lot about Diana's side of their trade in the last few months, and he'd learned even more about Diana. He'd always considered them close—as close as two people in their line of work could be—and he'd known her better than anyone else in the world, which wasn't hard to accomplish: she was the only person he'd ever allowed close. Whether it was trust or simply loyalty that started spiralling out of control two decades ago, he didn't know. He didn't care. She was still here, and that was all that mattered.

Living with her meant he could greedily take in all those private moments that had previously been left to his imagination.

Her grateful smile in the early morning hours when she found her coffee mug next to her laptop; her hair loose and still wet from the shower. Their eyes meeting in the mirror in their gym room as she was doing yoga while he took care of the punching bag, not because they needed to be vigilant and aware of their surroundings, but because they enjoyed sharing the same space. Sitting next to each other on the same couch in the afternoons, enjoying a good book and the classical music playing in the background because they both liked it this one song; she'd be sipping the tea he'd made for her without watching it being prepared.

No need to hide, no need to keep her guard up. She trusted him too.

He knew better than to take just one moment for granted, not after everything they've been through together. Not after everything that could've torn them apart.

Sometimes she'd drift off to sleep next to him, her head on his shoulder and her book open in her lap. Those were his favourite moments, as they tied his new reality and his old hopes together, inviting him to spend a few wasteful moments daydreaming about the life he could have, if he were brave enough to tell her that he wanted her, if he were good enough for her to love him back.

He would've placed his arm around her waist to keep her close, he could've pressed a soft kiss against her temple to let her know how much he cared, he should've carried her upstairs so she could sleep in their bed instead.

It had to stay a fantasy, both to protect her and to protect himself. From what, he wasn't quite sure any longer. Heartbreak, perhaps.

He couldn't possibly return to a life without the sound of her turning the pages of her book, without her grateful smile in the morning and their eyes meeting without anything to hide, anything but his feelings for her.

Diana always apologised when she woke up after those unplanned naps, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment or maybe from the warmth of the afternoon sun. They'd return to their work for a few more hours, the classical music still playing in the background because they both liked it, her cheeks still flushed and his heart still fluttering when he thought about what could've been.

For dinner, they'd share a glass of wine or two, to go with the fancy meal he'd made for them; fancy enough to warrant the tapered candles she liked to burn. He could pretend it was meant to be romantic, and it was, in a way. There was softness in her eyes as the flame flickered and illuminated her face and the scene much more intimately than he'd ever imagined possible.

It was an illusion, he knew it. His mind and his heart were playing tricks on him, fuelled by the glass of wine and the way she smiled when he spoke.

Soon, it would be time to say goodnight, and the magic of the moment would follow her up the stairs to the bedroom until she was out of his sight and he was alone again. There was no place for him next to her, it was inappropriate to even consider hoping for an invitation to join her.

He didn't mind staying on the couch, close to Diana's book and the cup of tea she'd forgotten about; with the music still playing because it was easier than falling asleep in the silence of a house that was too large for one person alone and too beautiful to be wasted on someone like him.