Never Cover up What We Did With a Dress

Despite my wishes not to do so, we were practically forced to dirve all the way back to San Francisco the next morning. Before I left again, I spoke to Manson.

“Is there anything you want me to get for you from Chatsworth? I could bring your clothes or something?” I asked.

“No, I bought everything worthwhile that I need with me. I don’t know where it is though. That doesn’t matter anyway,” he insisted, “when are you coming to visit me again? I’m stuck here for at least two weeks.”

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I’ll try to bring Lily and I down here as much as I can, alright? I’ll find out where your stuff is, too. And I’ll put it in our apartment.”

I smiled as I referred to it as our appartment. It felt so right to associate Manson with my everyday life, and this time is wasn’t filled with regret or denial or fearful, guilty hiding.

“Okay honey.” He answered, kissing my lips softly. “I will try to see you as soon as I can.”

I woke up with my face on Manson's hospital bed, Lily sitting in his arms, giggling in her undeveloped way. Manson was up, almost fully recovered. It had been a month since he was first admitted, and he was getting released tonight.

“Was that comfortable?” He asked, pure amusement in his voice.

“Quite,” I replied, “when can you leave? I want you home!”

“I know,” he replied, looking back strongly at me.

As if on cue a nurse entered the room, smiling, obviously realising exactly who she was about to speak to.

“Mr… Mr Manson?” She said timidly. “You can leave in the next half hour, okay? I just have to test your recovery signs and everything to make sure you’re alright. The pain is probably still quite significant and it’ll take about a month or so to fully disappear, but there’s a prescription I have to give you for pain killers.”

She walked toward him, giving me a fake smile. She glared at Lily, and I suddenly felt a rush of protectiveness. Don’t give my daughter a look like that, I silently yelled. Instead I stood briskly and took Lily from Manson’s lap, holding her defensively in my arms.

“Is that your daughter?” The nurse asked Manson.

“Yes,” he said. “Lily.”

“She’s gorgeous.” The nurse milked, touching Manson all over and asking him if it hurt, and whatever else. I tried to ignore the fact that she was putting her hands on him.

"She looks like Dita a little." The nurse said.

"Dita has nothing to do with her, her mother's Chesney." Manson replied, gesturing toward me. I smiled at the nurse.

"Her?" She asked, obviously shocked.

Manson stared back at her coldly and she didn't push her points any further. I ignored her obvious schock and gripped Lily tighter, kissing her forehead.

When she was done, I started to pack the little amount of things Manson had in the room. Then he got out of the bed slowly, still in immense pain, and changed out of the hospital gown into some clothes I had bought. I guided him to my car, Lily in my arms, smiling broadly, my hand attached to his.
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“It’s… gorgeous.” Manson said as I opened the apartment door. I just smiled in a response. “Do you know how much I’ve dreamed of this place? Coming here, with you and Lily?”

“I hope it lived up to the expectations you dreamt of.” I said, smiling even wider at the thought of his thinking of us.

“It’s better than I’d hoped.” He replied, walking into the living room, to behind the kitchen counter, to the bathroom, to Lily’s room, until finally he reached our bedroom. There were photos of him and me as kids on the bedside table. He picked it up with shaky hands and sat on the bed, holding it, staring intently at it.

I decided to leave him alone and put Lily to sleep. When I was confident she wouldn’t wake, I returned to out bedroom. Manson was still looking at the photo, but he’d moved over to the bay widow, looking out at the cold, San Francisco night simultaneously.

“Do you like it?” I whispered from behind him. He moved his head to look at me, and smiled softly.

“Yes, I love it.” He replied, “I’m just… shocked that we’ve ended up here, you know?”

“Trust me, I know.” I replied, walking over to him and sitting on the bay window in front of him. He parted his legs and pulled me in between them, my back resting intimately on his stomach. His head rested on my shoulder, and I leaned my head against his chest. His arms circled around my waist, and we stayed in the position for hours, just staring out at the night covered city, loving each other’s company.

“I’m so glad everything’s worked out now, that I’m here.” Manson said. "I love you, Chesney. I hope you realise how much you mean to me."

"I do." I replied.

I closed my eyes and leaned back further toward him, becoming draped with sleep. Words could not express how positively satisfied I was with him here. We had a baby together, a beautiful, gorgeous girl, and he was here, and we had an amazing apartment, and we were together. That was the main thing, I think. The love that bound us together was allowed to finally show everyone else it existed, and had for a lifetime.