Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Forty-Four: Best of Men and Best of Women

Alexandra's POV

Swinging out of bed, I hold in my breath, hoping beyond hope that the bed won't squeak, and that my shifting of movement won't wake my sleeping husband. My feet hit the floor and I freeze, waiting to see if Elijah's awoken.

Nope. He's still snoring.

I pad over to the door, still wary of the boards beneath me, then hesitate. With a sudden change of heart, I approach my desk and pull out the chair.

SCREEEEEEEE!

Shit.

I hear the bed behind me creak, and I hear Elijah yawn. Then, his voice still thick with sleep, he says, "Alexandra, come back to sleep."

"I have an early meeting out of town," I say shortly, keeping my back to him so that he can't see the torment on my face, the sadness in my eyes. My quill scratches along the parchment, the only sound in the room.

He shifts, making my heart speed up. What if he gets up, what if he sees? "It's still dark outside," he points out, perhaps wondering if I'm even aware of the time.

"I know," I reassure him softly, but I'm really just trying to calm myself. "I just need to write something down."

Elijah laughs, but it's not his usual laugh. This one is rumbling, deep, thunder-esque. "Why do you write like you're running out of time?"

Because I am. Because we all are.

"Shh," I beg him, feeling wetness streak down my face.

"Come back to bed. That would be enough."

But I'm not enough. I can never be enough for a man like Elijah, strong and sensitive and more deserving of someone who can better cater to his needs, his emotions, than I can.

Instead of saying this, I brush it off, wiping salt residue from my cheeks. Bluntly I say, "I'' be back before you know I'm gone," praying that it's true.

"Come back to sleep."

I almost do. I want to so bad, more than I want anything, but I know I can't. Because if I get in that bed and lay next to my Elijah, I'll never leave. But that soft call, that emotion-filled request tugs at my heartstrings, throwing me into agony.

"The meeting's at dawn."

There's rustling and a creak, then Elijah sighs, settling himself more comfortably into the covers, yawning, "Well, I'm going back to sleep."

"Hey," I say after a moment's pause. "Best of men..."

There's a long silence, then: "and best of women," from under the mound of blankets, leaving a bittersweet and salty smile on my face. I can't believe he remembers that saying from a long night long ago.

I can't believe I'm going to do this.

I sit at the desk until my husband's breaths come deep and even, then slip out into the night with resolve in my heart and tearstains down my cheeks. God have mercy on me.