Who Names The Colors

The Abduction of Psyche

He said he would be there.

And he was. He stayed after she left to go get Zoe, and when Jo got, he wasn't waiting for her in the bedroom, but them in the common area. He was in the kitchen with a brew for her and a sandwich, sippy cup and cut grapes for Zoe. How the hell did he know to cut grapes?

He'd be there. He was there.

Jo thought again about talking to Harry about the responsibilities he was seemingly stepping into. She didn't want to force Harry into a pseudo step-father role, she didn't want to force him into any role, especially by default. It was another thing, a heavy thing, they needed to talk about. When she was his age, she had an infant. It was the hardest thing she had ever done and she was alone. Her intentions for him were to spare him hard things.

Now, at an entirely different stage of life, she had a young child again. Jo was also on her own again.

Except when Harry was in her home. Then she did not feel alone. Not only was he a beautiful, distracting companion for her, he also felt like a partner. He did little things, like running the dishwasher, or anticipating Zoe needing a snack, or taking her to the park, without Jo thinking of it sometimes and certainly without her having to ask.

Selfishly, having him be there for her was so wonderful. Jo imagined it must be what a swallow felt like after it arrived at the cliffs of San Juan Capistrano. Like she had flown for thousands of miles and found a place to rest. The soft place, the partnership, he already offered when he was in her home was a gift she didn't even know how to thank him for.

It was also a gift Jo felt like she needed to reject in some way. Harry was so young, and one day he would make somebody, some lucky man or woman, an excellent partner. Thinking about Harry being happy with anybody but her, meeting unacknowledged needs and slotting into someone's vulnerable places, hurt like bending a nail back. Sudden and burning pain and she didn't even want to think about it. Because, if he wanted to be here, she wanted him to be here, with her, even more. She just wasn't sure how long she could allow that. They could spend years together she supposed before he would need to move on to somebody more suitable without missing any opportunities. The way he was already engraved on her heart would only get deeper though, and then, if he decided to leave for those exact opportunities, Jo would be irrevocably marked by him.

Jo was older though, and was probably thinking farther down the road. He was happy and he had told her, in love. She could admit to herself, she loved him too. And she was trying to decide if she loved him enough to make him go or too much to send him away.

It caused an ache in her belly, a pleasant emptiness to watch him with Zoe. Harry was so good, so natural and intuitive and patient with her. He was going to be an amazing dad. But she could not allow him to do what she'd had to do. She wanted to spare him it.

It was already to late to entirely spare him.

Because he was here. And she was going to let him be. Jo didn't want to stop it anymore, and was too tired after tonight's emotional conversation to bring it up, so she let him feed Zoe and rounded up her sleepy girl from his arms and enjoyed the kiss he pressed to Zoe head and the squeeze he gave her hand.

When Jo came down 20 minutes later she pushed open the door to her room to the sweetest sight she had possibly ever seen. Harry was already topless and was pushing his track pants down his thighs. The black fabric pooled around his feet and Jo wanted to dive in.

She closed the door behind her and walked up behind him,wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed the depression between his shoulders.

"Hi." She murmured and kept kissing over his back. She wished she was a little taller so she could reach the tops of his shoulder and his itsy bitsy earlobes. Jo felt overcome by affection for him and wanted to press her lips to all of his parts.