The End

Chapter 29: Bittersweet Symphony

The warm morning light drifted across Ellen's skin. He traced the shadows on her shoulder. Though they'd been intimate for years, they rarely slept together in the actual sense. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been able to wake up next to her like this. To have her to himself, without interruption. He let the feeling of it soak into him like a stain that he'd never try to get out.

She felt his lips press against her shoulder and trail up her neck. Ellen turned to face him. Their lips connecting softly. He ran his hands down her body and pulled her closer to him. She giggled lightly, "It's about time," her voice a little groggy. "I flew across the world to get in your pants and you made me wait a whole night." She turned to press her lips against his.

Patrick laughed and broke the kiss for only a second to say, "You needed rest."

"Rest is overrated," she said straddling him and slipping out of his t-shirt. She tossed it to the ground next to them. He groaned at the way the sunlight seemed to perfectly illuminate her bare  frame.

Patrick pressed his lips against hers. It had been far too long since he'd kissed her this way. Passionately with intention. The heat building between them. His hands slid down to her hips, then slowly, almost reverently, pulling her against him. He felt every inch of her. His body reacting to hers. Completely consumed by her.

She could feel him, hard and unyielding, pressing into her, and the sensation made her pulse quicken, her breath ragged.

His lips left hers, trailing kisses down the line of her jaw, his breath hot against her neck. "God, l've missed this," he whispered, his voice hoarse, as if he were struggling to keep control.

The rareness of this was never lost on him. They could pretend it was the infrequency or the lack of obligation to each other that heightened moments like this. But it wasn't that simple. The melody they made together was complex, yet pure and completely without explanation. They were fluent in a language only their bodies knew.

With a release that felt more like a homecoming than an ending, they folded into each other, bodies once again remembering what the heart would never forget.

It was bittersweet, this feeling that plagued them. Contentment. The kind of contentment that lasted a lifetime. The ache of absence had melted into the sweetness of presence but it was fleeting. "I'm not sure I'm going to survive this," Patrick said as he watched Ellen slip his t-shirt over her head.

"Well," she sighed, "that makes two of us."

"Tell me again why you made me do this," he was both light hearted and serious.

"It's time for us to move on," she said. "The world can't keep standing still. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone." She paused for a second, "and hey, it's easier than sneaking around at home." she shrugged, "Minus the 8 hour flight and live-in nanny."

He laughed as he pulled his sweats over his legs and followed her to the kitchen. Patrick watched as she easily operated the Nespresso he'd had sent over. There was even something enchanting about the way she made coffee.

"Where is your creamer?" Ellen searched his refrigerator.

"I drink it black." Ellen paused, wondering if this was a fact she'd over looked for the last 20 years. "No, you don't..."

He laughed, "I ran out yesterday. I wasn't expecting company."

Ellen passed him a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter across from him. "I would suggest going out but," she gestured as if it was obvious.

"What?" he laughed at her, "we can't even go out together in another country?"

"We definitely can't," Ellen insisted.