Chapter 110 The Reflection in the sky
The sun rose high enough to throw warm sharp shadows across the small park square time passed and the city moved.
But Fred remained motionless.
Still he felt the constant warmth of Annabel's head on his shoulder and remained a statue of discipline.
Her quiet, deep sleep was the result of her complete faith in his silence. The hour was signaled by a series of melodic notes chiming from a nearby bell tower.
The time was after seven.
Annabel moved a little and let out a quiet sigh. Her eyes opened and blinked in response to the day’s increased brightness.
She was only briefly conscious of the warmth and the firm object under her head.
Then memories came flooding back.
Gradually, she raised her head and withdrew from his shoulder. She glanced up at Fred who was already staring at her.
His eyes were unreadable, displaying a mixture of fatigue and intense concentrated focus.
With a husky voice from sleep, she said “I fell asleep.”
Running a hand through her already untidy hair she straightened up.
“You did,” he said, his voice a steady low growl.
“I’m sorry.” she said. “I haven't slept well for days. The last 48 hours have been a bit excessive.”
“You don't have to say sorry,” he said.
“It’s late,” she noted. “We need to go back. You need to go to work don't you?”
He got to his feet and extended his hand to her. He was given a familiar jolt by the casual contact of her warm soft fingers in his.
Gently he helped her stand up.
Unlike the charged quiet of their earlier walk they started the walk back in a relaxed easy silence.
This quiet seemed like a mutual victory a respite gained following a battle.
Upon arriving at the apartment building’s front door, he let her in through the door. The cobalt-blue sweater made her eyes appear brighter as she walked in and turned to face him.
“Thank you, Fred,” she said.
All he did was nod his eyes fixed.
“You’re welcome, Annabel.” He said.
“I’ll make some coffee,” she said.
A sincere smile appeared on his face, a natural motion that melted the harsh corners of his mouth.
It was a genuine smile that resulted from genuine enjoyment of her company rather than his typical restrained half-smirk.
He smiled as he said “Thank you for the offer. I need to do some preparation. A little professional restart.”
Her laughter was clear and melodic. “Alright Fred. Do a professional reset now. I'll be in the kitchen.”
“I’ll see you later.” He said
He turned and made his way to the staircase. Using his trademark long silent strides he took them two at a time.
After getting to the door, he entered his room and silently shut the door. He did not switch on the light. The morning light had already filled the room.
The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he walked across the carpet to the bed and sat down heavily on the edge.
He glanced down at his clothes, the jeans and cozy sweater.
They felt strange and unfamiliar like a uniform for a life he hardly ever allowed himself to lead.
After removing the sweater he threw it on the dark leather armchair. His gaze strayed to the wall-mounted tall mirror at the side of the room.
In his own reflection he saw a man dressed in jeans and a scruffy white T-shirt rather than the security details fitted suit.
He appeared…less armored, softer.
With his hands hanging loosely he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
In order to calm his mind and slow down the professional calculations that typically dominated his thoughts he gazed at his own image in the glass.
He could see the lines of fatigue around his eyes and the lingering tension in his jaw.
He then noticed the slight nearly undetectable shadow of the smile he had just given.
Then he thought of the stroll.
The crisp air, the relaxed cadence of their steps and the sudden closeness of her placing her head on his shoulder.
When she referred to him as her friend, he thought he hated the silence he had maintained.
The word cut him off from everything he really wanted like a clean sharp knife.
Friend.
The meaning was platonic. It meant there would be no messy complications, no threat to the mission and no chance of a recurrence of the kiss that had initiated this whole perplexing shift.
He balled his fists.
He didn't think he was the type of man who would accept the easy secure position of a friend.
Raising his gaze back to the mirror, he could now clearly see his face.
He observed the icy reasoning that he typically displayed.
He was still thinking about her.
The way her eyes brightened as she talked about her art and he remembered her smile.
He remembered her fierce defiant pride when she declared she was moving forward and the vulnerability in her face when she spoke about Carson.
He realized he wanted more than to keep her safe.
He desired to be the one who smiled at her, the one who replaced the man who had harmed her and the reason she was going forward.
The idea sank deeply into his chest, it was obviously self-serving and absolutely true. He rethought the feeling now of a low burning heat in his gut that he detested the word friend.
However, he decided to wear it as a disguise.
He wiped his forehead. Time to put on the armor again and get dressed. However, the armor now felt heavier due to the realization of what was hidden beneath the professional façade: a man with a single developing desire that extended well beyond the parameters of his contract.
He got out of bed and went to his closet where he started to choose a
new white shirt, his movements familiar and exact.
The mission had subtly changed but the work still needed to be done.