What Goes Around...

Part Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Eight

The hotel he checked them into was lakeside, a wooden structure with a balcony giving a view of the calm water. It was perfect, small, quaint, and tucked away from the world. With the amount of fraught emotions between them, it was just what they needed. Time and space.

As he grabbed their bags from the back of the car, Freya studied him, his face was pale, his eyes puffy. She'd never seen him look so exhausted. But then he'd sobbed on her shoulder, really sobbed and she knew that he was still anxious over that. He'd hated her seeing him so vulnerable, so broken, but for Freya it was exactly what she needed. Smiling she walked beside him into the hotel.

A few minutes later she was stood on the veranda, it was dark, the winter night though was clear, and the almost full moon was reflected on the ripples of the lake.

"You ok?"

Mitchell Cooper moved to stand behind her, the heat of his body evident against the cold of the night.

"Yep. Another beautiful place you've brought me to."

He sighed, "aren't I just the guy with all the treats."

She turned and was suddenly close, her nose almost touching his chest, tilting her head up, she ignored the smell that wafted up her nostrils, part aftershave, but the larger part of eau de Mitchell Cooper. If you could bottle that you'd make a fortune was the thought that filled her mind. Shaking her head, she looked into his eyes, the sadness; the haunted look was still there.

"Don't be hard on yourself. You've made my life better than it ever was."

He scoffed, "I doubt that very much."

"You've shown me a life outside of education, you taught me to have fun...and to water-ski..."

"Wakeboard!" he interjected.

She smiled, "wakeboard. You encouraged me to start cooking, and you're going to teach me to drive." Taking his hand she placed it over her stomach. The swell was more obvious now...she felt like a beach ball, but knew that in reality it was just that, a swell.

As Mitchell Cooper's hand spread, his fingers splaying, she grinned at him, "and this...this is the greatest thing to happen to me."

His laugh was sad, jaded, "and it could have been fathered by someone who deserves you."

"Bullshit. You will be a great father...you're a step up from anyone else that I considered."

"Simon."

She nodded, "can you believe that? I was ready to throw everything at that middle aged, bald and married man. Three boxes you tick...younger, full head of hair, and single."

It created a smile, "you sum up my good points so well."

She nodded again, "see? We're good for each other."

"Hmmm, you think?"

"So are you getting me dinner?" It was a rapid change of subject, but this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

"Do you want to go out? Or shall I get something sent up with room service?"

She moved back to the door that led to their room, "don't think either of us is in the mood for dressing for dinner."

There was an old black and white movie on TV, the handsome Rock Hudson charming an equally beautiful woman, that plus great cheeseburgers and fries seemed to make them both feel better.