I Want Your Heaven and Your Oceans Too

Why Do You Love Me?

"Irina and I broke up."

His words are unclear, slurred, even and for a terrifying split second, the thought occurs that he's been drinking and she's poised to jump in the car and break the short distance between them, just to reassure herself that he isn't.

But before she can bring it up, he plunges forward. "I'm okay."

"You don't---" she chooses her words with an air of deliberation. "You don't sound like yourself."

There is a pause on the other end of the line and she thinks he may have hung up before she hears him heave a sigh.

"I'm not doing anything harmful. I promise, Stefani."

Perspiration drips off her forehead and she swipes a quick hand across it, relieved. "When?"

"Officially? Last night. We'd talked about it for awhile but I didn't think she was actually going to move out. We're figuring out how to handle things with Lea."

His voice breaks and she closes her eyes, poising herself. "Is Lea with you now?"

"Yeah," he replies quietly. "My Mom's here, so..."

Hoisting herself onto the kitchen counter, she sifts her fingers through her messy up-do. "Mmm," she murmurs thoughtfully into the speaker. "Can you come over?"

"Now? You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll make us something to eat. You need to be with someone, B. You need someone to talk to."

"You're the first person I called," he admits. "If you're sure...I feel like I've been bothering you with this shit for months."

"Hey, don't do that. How many times have I come to you when I needed advice? Or cried all over you? I've fucked up more than one of your shirts, on more than one occasion, too." Her gaze drifts down to her foot, absently dragging the big toe down her bare calf to satisfy an itch. "Come over. Really."

Bradley exhales deeply and she swears she can feel the depth of his melancholy in her bones as she almost drops the phone, balanced precariously between her ear and shoulder. "Alright. See you soon."

"You're not gonna put up a fight?"

"Will it make a difference if I do?" He asks wearily.

"Probably not."

"Then I'll see you in twenty."

Hanging up, she drops the phone, sliding it down the marble counter top, trying to focus in the midst of her limbs suddenly deciding to betray her; her knees knocking so hard that she was afraid Ashley would hear them from the other room.

"Stop being an asshole," she has to sharply remind herself. "This has nothing to do with you "

It was time to put the brakes on the panic taking up residence in her brain so she shuts it out the same way she always did; busying herself to the point the fear was buried.

She flies about the kitchen, throwing together a lunch of things she knew he'd like and by the time she gets the call from security he'd arrived, she was, if not entirely calm, able to breathe. It was about being there for him...nothing else mattered.

When she flings open the door, the first thing that strikes her is how disheveled he appears. There is at least three or four days of stubble, his beautiful eyes, red rimmed and bloodshot. It's not like him and the panic in her begins to rise again.

He's barely inside the foyer when her arms shoot around him and he's burying his nose in her hair and he isn't crying but she knows him well enough to know he's defeated, feels the desperation and the sadness that emanates from him.