Houses were for the architecturally illiterate, at least that?s what Maria had always claimed. Her dream had never been a mansion in the upstate. It had always been an apartment in a prewar building in the Village with Justin. But Justin was dead and the Village was a hundred million miles away. Yet despite her characteristically brash opinion on the subject, when Tical had decided on a house, she had put up surprisingly little fight over leaving her New Haven brownstone. She requested only two things -- that the interior have character and that there was a sitting room off the bedroom.
And he'd delivered, of course. Arches transitioned one room to the next in the open floor plan. There were coffered ceilings, detailed mouldings, and more space than she knew what to do with. The hardwood floors had plenty of character, aged by both time and wear. The real estate agent had spoke of refinishing them but Maria had dismissed the idea outright.
From the comfort of a oversized chair in the sitting room off the master bedroom, she frowned down at the polka dot socks (a gag Christmas gift from Adie) as her feet shifted to cover a knot in the floorboards. A halo of dull winter light streamed in from the windows that sandwiched the chair and she basked in it. Drafts of a press release were scattered across the top of the ottoman, waiting to be read and approved.
In the apartment she grew up in, she didn't have to lift her voice to talk to her mother in the other room but then again their entire apartment probably could have fit in this bedroom suite. Therefore, she lifted her voice. "Tic, have you read over these releases about the engagement that Jennie sent over?"
There was a few seconds of silence from the adjacent bedroom. Shortly thereafter, Tical came through the archway and into the room. One earbud of a digital music player rested in his right ear while its companion dangled free at chest level. "You say something, M?"
"Press releases, Tic." There was a hint of a frustrated whine to her voice as she motioned to the spread before her. The more pregnant she got, the more stubborn she became about refusing to adjust her schedule, the more often that tone had a tendency of creeping its way into her voice.
He crossed the remainder of the space between the doorway and the chair and ottoman that she was seated in within a few steps. The tint of frustration in her voice had been noted, but he had let it slide. The pregnancy had been a delicate and personal balance for him as well. Her refusing to adjust her schedule meant that, more often than not, he would have to adjust his own. However, thus far, he had been more than willing to do so to avoid any confrontation or unnecessary stress for her.
A couple of the press releases were picked up and he scanned over them quickly before shrugging. "They look alright to me. I say we go with them."
He couldn't have possibly read the different wording much less fully considered it. It caused a huff of an exhale from Maria. An incessant voice inside her head suggested what she suspected to be true. He didn't care. He didn't care how it was announced. He didn't worry over the wording. Maybe she didn't have to let it weigh on her either. Maybe it was just a convenient distraction from her real fear.
He pulled the other earbud from his ear and slid both into the pocket of the gym shorts he was wearing. "Speaking of the press, we gotta talk about somethin'?"
"What's that?"
Truthfully, the words had been a jumble for him and he didn't fully process the phrasing on either sample that he had glanced over. There was something there, a distraction, and that was etched in his features as he focused on her. "Let me ask you a serious question, M. Do you want to get married? More specifically, do you want to marry me?"
The verbal blow was instant. Her heart sank into her stomach, her palms instantly felt clammy. She drew her feet under her Indian-style, letting fingers curl over her yoga pants around kneecaps. "I don't want to lose you."
"Well.." Tical cleared space off the ottoman before he took a seat. Apparently, her answer had not completely satisfied his curiosity on the subject. "Normally, I wouldn't question you. And normally, I wouldn't give any consideration to somethin' I read about you and I in the papers. But, do you know why I keep havin' to answer questions 'bout my fiancee supposedly not wantin' to get married again?"
Again. There was that unpleasant word. The reminder of her past failure. All her hard edges came crashing down with it. There was no good way to answer his question and if she lied Ria would probably only be too happy to tell him the truth. "A reporter got a hold of Ria's phone. She claims it was lost. I don't know if she sold me out or not. There were some text messages... and some e-mails."
"My stylist has been trying to arrange for me to meet with a couple designers to talk about wedding dresses. Ria was cc'd on those e-mails since she wanted to help. And I canceled a bunch of appointments. I just... I don't know." Her hair was piled in a messy bun on the crown of her head, limiting her options for fidgeting so she tightened her hold on her knees. "We can't fight the story because it's true. Or there is enough evidence on that phone to suggest it's true."
He narrowed his gaze for a brief moment in contemplation before his eyes met hers. She was jumping from place to place and he wasn't sure if it was because she was nervous or she was trying to conceal something from him. "I'm not worried about public perception, M. Or what the papers are going to write or what they're going to air on TV. I'm worried about us. Cold feet is normal. Hell, I have cold feet, too. But I still, beyond a shadow of a doubt, want to get married. I need to know if that's what you want, too."
Nothing was going right. She was exhausted all the time, making her schedule of appearances, training, and mothering damn near impossible. Ria blamed her for the support for Candy. The press was a constant buzzing, just waiting to catch sight of her walking into a maternity boutique or shopping for nursery furniture. Myria was upset that she wasn't around to keep everyone on the same page. Kal was pushing all of her buttons, trying to pull her back into the rings. It bubbled up and she spouted off at the one person who had been bending over backward to help her through it.
"I'm pregnant with your baby. Isn't that enough for you right now?"
Tical sat there in stunned silence for a moment his eyes trained on her for what seemed like an eternity. He understood the frustration she was going through with everything that was going on. And for the most part, he tried to shoulder most of it to alleviate that burden. But, they were both very public figures. There was his own appearances he had to make, sponsors he had to appease and side businesses that he had to run. Dealing with all of that only to have her snap at him at this particular point in time had only served to increase his own frustration.
After moments ticked by and the initial wave of anger subsided somewhat, he answered simply: "No, it's not enough. That ain't a reason to marry someone. I would think you would have realized that by now. But, I am not going to have an argument with you right now, M. I'm just not. If we need to talk about this later, we can."
The sharpness of the cut she had levied took her own breath away. The anger in her voice was drowned in a wave of panic. Make it right, make it right, make it right. She released her knees, hands falling over the expanse of her ever growing abdomen. When she found her voice, it was a soft, vulnerable hush of a noise. "Tic, you know I love you. You know I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
There was a slow exhale of breath and he rubbed his chin as his own frustration dimmed with her statement. "If you mean that... then that is good enough for me. But please don't just say somethin' because you think it's what I want to hear, M. Or because you think it avoids a problem for the short term. This is not somethin' that we can have comin' up again." His hands reaching out as he spoke to clasp her own.
It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, to explain why she was so afraid. She gnawed on her bottom lip as her fear flooded in. This marriage would fail just like her last... and the Crew would lose Tical. No, worse yet, she would lose Tical. The only person who never balked in the face of her temper tantrums, the only person she could talk to freely.
Her hands curled within his and as he made an effort to reach her, she stumbled through her own compromise, her eyes dropping to their clasped hands. "I'll make an appointment with a designer this week to talk about dresses this week and I'll keep it."
There was a nod at that, but something made him pause as he relinquished his grasp of her hands. Something, that while it seemed fleeting, was enough to give him a moment of hesitation. "You know you can talk to me, M. 'bout anythin'."
About anything but this, it would seem. Words never came that could express the fear and her eyes traced up his form to offer a distant smile and a nod.
He lingered for a moment before he rose from the ottoman after placing a kiss on her lips. When it seemed that the discussion was over, he returned his gaze to the press releases on the ottoman and picked up a few. "And I'll read over these again, see if there's somethin' I didn't catch before."
Her smile brightened by two shades and tender sentiment caused her brown eyes to soften. His willingness to read over releases that he had little interest in was just another sign of his willingness to compromise, to do what was necessary to make their relationship work. She would too. And she?d start by making and keeping an appointment with a wedding gown designer.
((Taken from live play!))
And he'd delivered, of course. Arches transitioned one room to the next in the open floor plan. There were coffered ceilings, detailed mouldings, and more space than she knew what to do with. The hardwood floors had plenty of character, aged by both time and wear. The real estate agent had spoke of refinishing them but Maria had dismissed the idea outright.
From the comfort of a oversized chair in the sitting room off the master bedroom, she frowned down at the polka dot socks (a gag Christmas gift from Adie) as her feet shifted to cover a knot in the floorboards. A halo of dull winter light streamed in from the windows that sandwiched the chair and she basked in it. Drafts of a press release were scattered across the top of the ottoman, waiting to be read and approved.
In the apartment she grew up in, she didn't have to lift her voice to talk to her mother in the other room but then again their entire apartment probably could have fit in this bedroom suite. Therefore, she lifted her voice. "Tic, have you read over these releases about the engagement that Jennie sent over?"
There was a few seconds of silence from the adjacent bedroom. Shortly thereafter, Tical came through the archway and into the room. One earbud of a digital music player rested in his right ear while its companion dangled free at chest level. "You say something, M?"
"Press releases, Tic." There was a hint of a frustrated whine to her voice as she motioned to the spread before her. The more pregnant she got, the more stubborn she became about refusing to adjust her schedule, the more often that tone had a tendency of creeping its way into her voice.
He crossed the remainder of the space between the doorway and the chair and ottoman that she was seated in within a few steps. The tint of frustration in her voice had been noted, but he had let it slide. The pregnancy had been a delicate and personal balance for him as well. Her refusing to adjust her schedule meant that, more often than not, he would have to adjust his own. However, thus far, he had been more than willing to do so to avoid any confrontation or unnecessary stress for her.
A couple of the press releases were picked up and he scanned over them quickly before shrugging. "They look alright to me. I say we go with them."
He couldn't have possibly read the different wording much less fully considered it. It caused a huff of an exhale from Maria. An incessant voice inside her head suggested what she suspected to be true. He didn't care. He didn't care how it was announced. He didn't worry over the wording. Maybe she didn't have to let it weigh on her either. Maybe it was just a convenient distraction from her real fear.
He pulled the other earbud from his ear and slid both into the pocket of the gym shorts he was wearing. "Speaking of the press, we gotta talk about somethin'?"
"What's that?"
Truthfully, the words had been a jumble for him and he didn't fully process the phrasing on either sample that he had glanced over. There was something there, a distraction, and that was etched in his features as he focused on her. "Let me ask you a serious question, M. Do you want to get married? More specifically, do you want to marry me?"
The verbal blow was instant. Her heart sank into her stomach, her palms instantly felt clammy. She drew her feet under her Indian-style, letting fingers curl over her yoga pants around kneecaps. "I don't want to lose you."
"Well.." Tical cleared space off the ottoman before he took a seat. Apparently, her answer had not completely satisfied his curiosity on the subject. "Normally, I wouldn't question you. And normally, I wouldn't give any consideration to somethin' I read about you and I in the papers. But, do you know why I keep havin' to answer questions 'bout my fiancee supposedly not wantin' to get married again?"
Again. There was that unpleasant word. The reminder of her past failure. All her hard edges came crashing down with it. There was no good way to answer his question and if she lied Ria would probably only be too happy to tell him the truth. "A reporter got a hold of Ria's phone. She claims it was lost. I don't know if she sold me out or not. There were some text messages... and some e-mails."
"My stylist has been trying to arrange for me to meet with a couple designers to talk about wedding dresses. Ria was cc'd on those e-mails since she wanted to help. And I canceled a bunch of appointments. I just... I don't know." Her hair was piled in a messy bun on the crown of her head, limiting her options for fidgeting so she tightened her hold on her knees. "We can't fight the story because it's true. Or there is enough evidence on that phone to suggest it's true."
He narrowed his gaze for a brief moment in contemplation before his eyes met hers. She was jumping from place to place and he wasn't sure if it was because she was nervous or she was trying to conceal something from him. "I'm not worried about public perception, M. Or what the papers are going to write or what they're going to air on TV. I'm worried about us. Cold feet is normal. Hell, I have cold feet, too. But I still, beyond a shadow of a doubt, want to get married. I need to know if that's what you want, too."
Nothing was going right. She was exhausted all the time, making her schedule of appearances, training, and mothering damn near impossible. Ria blamed her for the support for Candy. The press was a constant buzzing, just waiting to catch sight of her walking into a maternity boutique or shopping for nursery furniture. Myria was upset that she wasn't around to keep everyone on the same page. Kal was pushing all of her buttons, trying to pull her back into the rings. It bubbled up and she spouted off at the one person who had been bending over backward to help her through it.
"I'm pregnant with your baby. Isn't that enough for you right now?"
Tical sat there in stunned silence for a moment his eyes trained on her for what seemed like an eternity. He understood the frustration she was going through with everything that was going on. And for the most part, he tried to shoulder most of it to alleviate that burden. But, they were both very public figures. There was his own appearances he had to make, sponsors he had to appease and side businesses that he had to run. Dealing with all of that only to have her snap at him at this particular point in time had only served to increase his own frustration.
After moments ticked by and the initial wave of anger subsided somewhat, he answered simply: "No, it's not enough. That ain't a reason to marry someone. I would think you would have realized that by now. But, I am not going to have an argument with you right now, M. I'm just not. If we need to talk about this later, we can."
The sharpness of the cut she had levied took her own breath away. The anger in her voice was drowned in a wave of panic. Make it right, make it right, make it right. She released her knees, hands falling over the expanse of her ever growing abdomen. When she found her voice, it was a soft, vulnerable hush of a noise. "Tic, you know I love you. You know I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
There was a slow exhale of breath and he rubbed his chin as his own frustration dimmed with her statement. "If you mean that... then that is good enough for me. But please don't just say somethin' because you think it's what I want to hear, M. Or because you think it avoids a problem for the short term. This is not somethin' that we can have comin' up again." His hands reaching out as he spoke to clasp her own.
It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, to explain why she was so afraid. She gnawed on her bottom lip as her fear flooded in. This marriage would fail just like her last... and the Crew would lose Tical. No, worse yet, she would lose Tical. The only person who never balked in the face of her temper tantrums, the only person she could talk to freely.
Her hands curled within his and as he made an effort to reach her, she stumbled through her own compromise, her eyes dropping to their clasped hands. "I'll make an appointment with a designer this week to talk about dresses this week and I'll keep it."
There was a nod at that, but something made him pause as he relinquished his grasp of her hands. Something, that while it seemed fleeting, was enough to give him a moment of hesitation. "You know you can talk to me, M. 'bout anythin'."
About anything but this, it would seem. Words never came that could express the fear and her eyes traced up his form to offer a distant smile and a nod.
He lingered for a moment before he rose from the ottoman after placing a kiss on her lips. When it seemed that the discussion was over, he returned his gaze to the press releases on the ottoman and picked up a few. "And I'll read over these again, see if there's somethin' I didn't catch before."
Her smile brightened by two shades and tender sentiment caused her brown eyes to soften. His willingness to read over releases that he had little interest in was just another sign of his willingness to compromise, to do what was necessary to make their relationship work. She would too. And she?d start by making and keeping an appointment with a wedding gown designer.
((Taken from live play!))