It's good to have you here

She looked tired. She pushed her soft blond hair off her forehead, and ran her fingers through it as she walked, making her fringe stick up like a cock’s comb. The muscles in her other hand were straining, her knuckles turning white, as she tried to push the luggage trolley straight. I called her name, and skipped toward her, avoiding other travelers and well-wishers in my path. She looked up, and smiled wearily as she met my gaze. Within moments, she was in my arms, the roses I had bought on the way crushed between us.
It’s good to see you, I whispered, spreading my hand on her back to gather her warmth to me.
You too, she replied, pulling back to look into my eyes.
I pulled the crumpled roses out from between us. These are for you, I said, smiling ruefully over the top of them.
Thank you, she said, wriggling free from my embrace to take them. They’re so beautiful. She buried her nose in them, and again, I thought how tired she looked.
Let’s get you home, I said, taking hold of the luggage trolley, and steering her toward the doors with a hand on her lower back. She gladly relinquished control and walked wearily beside me.
I hailed a taxi, and once her luggage was loaded up, we headed out of the airport complex, and toward the city.

I held my apartment door for her, and muscled her bags in behind her, locking us away from the city noise.
She surveyed the apartment briefly, running her hand through her softly rumpled hair. This looks lovely, she said, walking toward the window to peer out at the river.
I put her bag down, and walked up behind her, hesitating when I reached her, unsure of whether to put my arms around her waist. She turned around, and leaned back against the windowsill.
It’s good to have you here, I said.
Good to be here, she replied.
I looked away, unsure of how to proceed, and indicated a space for her to sit.
How about a cup of tea, and then some lunch, I suggested. I could see her choosing her words.
Or a bath, and bed, I amended, and I could bring you tea in bed. This time she smiled gratefully.
That would be lovely, she replied.
I’ll get the bath going, I suggested, turning away. She caught my hand as I moved, pulling me back into her arms.
Thank you, she whispered, her breath tickling my ear.
More than a pleasure, I replied.
She gave me an extra squeeze before pulling back. Where is that bathroom?
I carried her case into her room before showing her the bathroom, and starting the water running. Twenty minutes later I tapped on the bathroom door.
There’s tea in your bedroom, I said, and the towel hanging in there is for you, I called through the door. It opened, and she stood in front of me wearing the towel, her hair damp, and her skin glowing from the heat.
That sounds good, she said, smiling at my surprise. She looked like an angel. I stepped back awkwardly to let her pass, and then wondered through to the kitchen for my own tea. I had just poured a cup when I heard Aurora behind me. I thought you were going to join me, she said.
I spilled my tea over the counter.
It’s not much fun having tea alone, she said, taking the warm cup from me as I mopped the counter top.
No, of course not, I giggled awkwardly. I poured myself another cup of tea, and followed her into her bedroom. I had put a chair under her window, and shuffled it around to sit on, but she took my cup from me, placed it on the night-stand, and pulled me down to sit on the bed beside her. The towel had been replaced by a fluffy nightgown, but her skin still radiated warmth from her bath, and she smelled faintly of bubble bath. I clung to her hand for dear life. I don’t know what I had expected, but her next action caught me completely by surprise. She swung around on the bed, snuggled up beside me, and brought her lips up to meet mine. The kiss was tender, but wavering, and I felt her awaiting my response with some trepidation. I hated to hurt her, but I had to pull back before things went any further. I held onto her fingers to keep her from pulling right away. I could see the hurt in her eyes.
Aurora…
Sorry, she mumbled, attempting to release her hands.
I just don’t want to rush anything, I said, pulling her closer so that she had no option but to meet my eyes. I don’t want you to think it’s what’s expected.
Is that what it feels like? she asked, that I’m just doing what I think you expect me to.
I don’t really know. I laughed ruefully. It wasn’t exactly an auspicious start.
She leaned back against the headboard. I want to give this a try, she said.
I looked at her hands in mine, bringing them closer to my face to get a better look. There was a pale line around her finger where her wedding ring had been until very recently, and I stroked the mark with my thumb.
I want to make it work, I said. She looked hurt for a moment, and then sighed deeply.
I didn’t mean it as a slight, I said.
I know. She pulled a hand free, and ran her fingers through her hair again. I’m just a little jaded, I guess.
Hardly, I said. Jaded wouldn’t have come near me with a ten foot pole. She laughed, and the tension was diffused.
I love you, I said, and I want to show you that. I want time to explore it. I want to make you fall in love with me, and I need time for that.
She didn’t offer a pat response, and I appreciated that, but it reminded me of the journey we had ahead, and the prospect was frightening.