Marc – Day thirty

The repeated ding-dong from the doorbell’s chime resonated throughout the dark room. I sat up in bed and glanced at the alarm clock.

5:05.

I wondered why in the ten kinds of fuck someone was doing ringing my doorbell at 5:00 a.m. on Sunday, the one day of the week I allowed myself the luxury of waking without an alarm clock.

To find out, I got out of bed and proceeded to walk to the front door.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.

I checked my watch, just to be sure I wasn’t going crazy.

5:05.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.

I fixed my eyes on the front door and sauntered through the living room.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.

I stepped to the door and pressed the button to unlock it. After opening it slightly, I peered through the crack.

At first, I was shocked. Taryn, now blond again, stood on the porch with her hair twisted into a gorgeous mess of loose curls. Dressed in a sleeveless coral-colored dress and flats, she looked breathtaking.

“Taryn?”

She cocked her head to the side and gave me a look. “Who did you think it was?”

I pulled the door open. A hint of her perfume came in before she did, causing me to smile as it rushed past.

I shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry.”

She came inside and looked around. “It’s dark as hell in here.”

“It’s night time.”

The outdoor lighting filtered in through the windows. As I admired the shadows that her body’s curves cast against her dress, she nodded toward my hand.

“Do you always answer the door with a pistol?”

“Force of habit.” I looked at my hand as if I had no idea what it held, even though I did. “Didn’t even realize I’d grabbed it.”

“Did you realize you’re wearing boxer shorts?”

I didn’t. I looked down at them, and then shrugged. “Must have slipped them on.”

“Where do we stand?” she asked, her voice demanding of an answer.

I flipped on the light switch, then immediately flipped it off again. “What?”

She pressed her right hand against her hip and gave me a look. “Where do we stand?”

I was completely lost as to what she was asking me. Confused, and wondering just what in the hell was going on, I asked the question I’m sure she didn’t want to hear. “Have you been drinking?”

“I haven’t had a drink in thirty-one days. Thirty-one,” she snapped back. She arched an eyebrow. “So, guess what that makes today?”

I hadn’t realized what day we’d made it to in our relationship. We’d gone out on the previous night, and she insisted on sleeping at home, despite the fact I invited her to stay all night. She expressed hope that the last few days would last forever. I, on the other hand, wanted them to somehow disappear.

As much as I wanted our thirty-day obligatory session to end, however, I’d somehow managed to allow our final day to creep up on me.

“Day thirty?” I asked, my tone somewhat apologetic.

“Day thirty,” she said mockingly. She placed her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. “Do we decide now, or do we have to make it through the entire day? Please tell me you’re not going to make me wait until midnight.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked, knowing the answer would be no.

“No,” she snapped.

She was eager. I liked that about her. Regardless of her hope to discuss matters in the wee hours of the morning, I knew starting a conversation – and having it be meaningful – without a cup of coffee preceding it would be impossible.

I turned toward the kitchen. “I need a cup of coffee before I start much of anything.”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Sure. Yeah, let’s have coffee.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get ‘em started.”

“But not in the dark.” She turned the lights on. “And, put the gun up, please. It makes me nervous.”

I walked into the kitchen and placed the gun in the cupboard. After brewing two coffee pods, I carried the cups of coffee to the island and placed them side by side.

“I don’t want to sit there,” she said with a wag of her index finger. “I want to sit across from you. I want to see you when I talk to you.”

I carried the coffee to the dining area and sat down. “How about here?”

She looked the table over as if it were the first time she’d ever seen it, and then took a seat across from me. After taking a sip of her coffee, she winced and then looked at me. “Where do we stand?”

“It’s something we need to discuss,” I said.

She glanced at her cup of coffee. “Can we do that now?”

“Sure.”

A few seconds of silence followed, primarily because I wasn’t prepared to discuss anything quite yet. I was still recovering from two and a half hours sleep. Apparently, the lull in conversation was more than Taryn was willing to accept.

“I guess I’ll start,” she said in a snide tone. “In the last thirty days, I’ve learned a lot. For the first time in my adult life, I’m comfortable being me. While being in this relationship with you, I feel like I can just do me, let you do you, and together we make a pretty damned good team. I think having this end would be a huge mistake on your part, I really do. I’ve got a lot to offer, and if you’re too shallow – or too stubborn – to see it, maybe you’re not as good at seeing into people’s souls as you think you are.”

I leaned away from the table and looked her over. She had gone through changes during our relationship, and I’d noticed each one of them. They weren’t abrupt, nor were they unnatural. They were an accommodating transformation that took place over the course of our thirty days together.

With my eyes fixed on her, I sipped my coffee. Trying my best to appear in deep thought, I continued until she began to fidget in her seat.

I lowered my cup to the table. “I’ll need to get a pad of paper and a calculator so I can tally up the points and see if you made it or not,” I said dryly.

She leaped from her chair and shot me a fiery glare. “Are you fucking serious? A fucking calculator?”

She reacted exactly as I’d hoped. One thing I admired about her was her spunk and her attitude, both of which seemed to diminish slightly in the last thirty days. I’d hoped they were simply suppressed. It was now obvious that was the case.

“I was kidding,” I said.

“Excuse me?” she snapped.

I grinned. “I was kidding.”

She glared. “About what?”

“The calculator.” I raised my eyebrows in hope of coercing her to forgive me. “And the notepad.”

“Are we going to continue this or not?” she asked in a quaking voice. “I haven’t slept yet. If we’re not, I need to go home and cry myself to sleep.”

I cleared my throat and then stood. “Four years. That’s how long I’ve been single. Until I met you, I assumed I’d simply live the remainder of my life a single man.”

“You don’t…” She swallowed heavily. “You don’t think that’ll happen now?”

I shook my head. “I watched you come and go from that bar for six months before I approached you. Six long months, I might add. You fascinated me, but there was a slight problem--”

“What…” Her mouth began to twist into an ever so simple grin. “What was it?”

“I’ve been dropped into some of the fiercest combat zones to ever exist. I’ve been shot at and missed, and shot at and hit. I’ve been stabbed, tortured, and beaten half to death. But. I’ve never feared anything as much as I feared approaching you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were the most remarkable woman I had ever seen. Seeing you laugh? One of the best things to ever happen to me. Watching you walk made me imagine what it would be like to have you at my side. I’d go there and wonder if I’d see you again. Each time, I thought to myself, if I see her tonight, I’ll say something. But, I didn’t. I watched you, fascinated by what I saw, but I feared what might happen if I approached you. Failure is not an option is the Navy SEAL motto, and I didn’t want to fail. Then, I overheard you talking about being single. So, I decided I’d take the chance. That was the night we met.”

“I’m guessing you want to continue?” she asked.

“Only if being in a relationship with me is what you truly want.”

“It is, but I uhhm. I have a few questions first.”

“Okay.”

I was eager to hear what they were, and hoped I could accomplish whatever it was that she may want of me. The thought of continuing life without her made me feel ill, and it had nothing to do with failing.

I feared I was falling in love with her.

“Have you ever hit a woman?” she asked.

“No.”

“Will you?”

“You have my solemn promise. I will not.”

“If you’re ever too drunk to drive, you have to tell me. And, you have to promise not to drive.”

“I don’t drink.”

She let out a sigh. “If you’re ever too drunk to drive--”

I gave a sharp nod. “I promise. I’ll tell you.”

“Every night before we go to bed, we make amends for whatever differences we had throughout the day.”

“I like that.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She twisted her mouth to the side and looked away.

It appeared she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and I couldn’t have been happier. Until we agreed, however, I stood at the edge of the table and refrained from expressing my excitement.

I simply stood there and admired her natural beauty.

She met my gaze. “Are you the one who rescued those girls? The nine teenagers?”

It seemed like an odd question. “I suppose so.”

“You suppose so?”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. After a moment, she looked up. “Acting alone, and with little concern for his own safety, the detective entered the residence. Was he talking about you?”

“He was.”

She crossed her arms. “If we continue, just what is it? Are we dating? Exclusive? Boyfriend-girlfriend--”

“If we continue, I’m committed to you,” I explained. “In my eyes, it’s no different than the commitment of marriage. I’m devoted to you, and I hope you’re able to make the same commitment to me. Proceeding beyond this mark, especially introducing sex in the relationship, is something I’ve always viewed as sacred. If I share that with you, I’d like to believe you’re committed to me, and to this relationship. We’re in this through the thick and the thin.”

Her eyes fell to my waist. Slowly, they rose along my torso until she met my gaze. “Take off the shorts, March.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m in. It’s a go. Let’s do this,” she said with a laugh. “What do we need to do? Shake hands?”

“We need to have a talk first,” I said.

“About?”

The only thing that was left untouched was sex. I guess we saved the best for last.

“The severity of sex,” I said.

Her eyes shot wide. And then, they narrowed to slits.