Harbour Lights

For the first time in a very long while, William Banfield was happy. He was truly and undeniably blissful and relaxed and – what was the word? – content. Marilyn was asleep in his arms and her small frame rose and fell with every breath he took. It all felt so right.

He was surprised that she had been able to fall asleep on his chest – that she felt comfortable enough around him. He guessed that she felt the same way he did: they were both so tired from fighting all the time. They had given up.

For the first time since she came home, he wasn't on edge. He didn't have to worry about fighting with her. He didn't have to waste his time thinking of more reasons as to why he hated her.

All he had to do was just sit here and let her sleep. He didn't have to say anything and she didn't have to say anything. He could just rest there and let her continue dreaming; he just had to let things be. To go with it as it happened.

She sighed softly in her sleep and unconsciously nuzzled his neck. He couldn't prevent the goose bumps that rose on his arms. Her hair still smelled like sunshine and strawberries… She really hadn't changed that much, after all. Living in a different country for the past two years had had quite an effect upon her, but she was still the same person.

He found comfort in this fact.

As he thought about it even more, however, he realized that she was also so different. They were polar opposites now: she had grown up, and he hadn't. He frowned. He wanted the old Marilyn back.

Limbs were entwined and heartbeats paced at the same rate. The way they were right now, in this moment, was like a flashback. This is exactly how they used to be all the time, back when they loved each other. He missed this feeling. But he wasn't about to go all irrational about it. Will had been way to rash many times before – and now was not the time to make another mistake like that. For once, he was going to think things through.

Yes, it was true that he missed Marilyn, but it didn't mean that he missed being with Marilyn. He wasn't about to throw everything out the window and take her back. It's not like he could forget everything she did to him – and everything he did to her – and kiss a few times to make it all better. Too much had happened between them.

Sometimes a heart is so broken it cannot be repaired.

◊ ◊ ◊

Marilyn stirred in her sleep and slowly, so slowly, she regained consciousness. The first thing she was aware of was that she was warm and very comfortable. She felt as though she had been crying for hours (and, upon recollection, she realized that that was exactly what she had been doing), but she didn't feel sad at all – no, this was a good feeling. She had gotten everything out of her system and the crushing weight had been lifted off of her chest.

The next thing that registered in her mind was that her pillow was rising and falling. Last time she checked, pillows did not move.

She shot upright like a thunderbolt. The image of Will's face and the whiteness of the walls blurred together as she tried to remember what she was doing here. When the memories of last night returned to her, she finally settled down.

"Hi," she murmured.

"Hi."

She didn't know what else to say. She had gotten so accustomed of fighting with him; a civil conversation was out of her grasp. "I should…" she began, but her voice faltered as Will absently reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. She didn't know what he was doing. She wasn't sure if he knew what he was doing, either. Such a gesture seemed so casual but for them, after all of the bitterness, it seemed too intimate. It was strange to think that two years ago it was totally normal for them. But perhaps Will wasn't really thinking about what he was doing; he didn't mean for it to be romantic or anything of the sort. He was doing it out of old habit.

"I should go," she finally murmured.

He frowned at her words but didn't ask why. He agreed with her. "Yeah. You probably should."

Last night had gone far enough and both of them knew that.

"Listen, Will, I…" she said, and again she couldn't seem to find the right words. What was she going to say? This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come. This whole situation was awkward. They were supposed to hate each other.

Instead she came up with something else to say, "Thank you."

His eyes softened. “You're welcome.”

Marilyn Day's heart was finally beating properly again.

For an instant, she wanted to kiss him. Before she could comprehend what she was doing, she was leaning down and brushing her lips against Will's.

"You should really be going."

Logic claimed Marilyn's mind again. This was wrong. He had a fiancée. They couldn't do this. Not now.

"You're right," she said, but she still hadn't leaned away from him.

And that was a very, very bad mistake.

"Billy?" Evie's shocked voice shattered the silence.