If Only She'd Loved Him

Saturday 10:00 am

"Erik," Megan called out.

He was back in her room in a second.  His eyes flicked to the floor, saw the wrinkled photograph. "Yes?  What do you want?"

Hearing the anger in his voice, Megan almost lost her nerve. If he figured out she was lying to him, she didn't know what he'd do, how far he'd go, but then she gathered up her courage.  Raising her head, she fought to keep her voice steady.  "I decided you were right.  We should talk."  She gestured to the photo.  "I didn't know," she whispered helplessly, tears pouring down her cheeks at the thought of Paul's betrayal.  "I didn't know."

Hearing the pain, the truth in her voice, Erik didn't hesitate.  He took her in his arms, crushing her inside them.  "Oh sweetheart, it doesn't matter.  He doesn't matter.  The only thing that counts is that we're together now.  Now that you've seen the truth we can finally be happy, the way we were meant to be."

Megan raised up her face, letting Erik brush away her tears with the tip of his finger.  Her voice held strong. "You were right all along.  He didn't care for me, didn't love me.  You're the only one who ever loved me, I see that now."

He slid his finger down her cheek.

"You're mine now, Megan, mine and mine alone."

She said nothing.  The look in his eyes was so tender, so gentle, so possessive that she was afraid that anything she might do would break the moment.  His fingers cupped around her chin as he knelt down to kiss her; she kissed him back, eyes shut.

"Yours," she agreed in the darkness.  It was easy to agree in the darkness.  "Yours," she repeated.

Erik was in shock, waves of delirious pleasant shock, but shock nonetheless.  He sat back on the bed.  "You don't know how long I've waited to hear those words, sweetheart.  What I would have said or done to hear those words!  It's all been worth it, everything, everything!"  He practically danced on the bed in his happiness. 

Megan opened her eyes at his joy.  Part of her was actually glad that she had the power to make him so blissful.  The warmth in her eyes made Erik want to cheer.  He lifted her up and spun her around in his arms, till dizzy they both fell back on the bed.  Again he kissed her.  "We need to celebrate!  We need champagne!"

"But what about breakfast?"  Her stomach rumbled quietly. 

"Mimosas then.  We'll go to the kitchen.  I'll make you whatever you like!"

Megan, pulled along by his happiness and his arm, followed him into the next room.  It looked the same as the night before, except the chessboard was missing.  She didn't care.  She'd never believed he would let her go, just because she beat him at chess.  He pulled up a stool.

"Sit, sweetheart.  Now what can I get you?" he asked eagerly.

Megan smiled.  A plan had formed in her head as soon as he had said mimosas.  She rubbed at her wrists, purposely making them sore, so she wouldn't feel badly as she plotted.  Her gaze shifted to the bright yellow carton of orange juice on the counter.  It was time for history to repeat itself.