The late afternoon sun spilled across the kitchen floor as he watched her from the doorway. He admired her beauty as she navigated through his kitchen like she had been in his life for years as opposed to months. They had met at work and she captured his heart on that first day. It was her strength and confidence that he noticed first. Well, first after her stunning looks. Seeing as they were both adults who had lived full lives, they wasted no time delving into a relationship and moving it along. There was a self-assuredness that they shared so it felt like they were on equal footing. This was a change for him as he had always been drawn towards wounded souls. It was new for her, as well, as the few men she had been involved with eventually felt threatened by her lack of neediness. But together, they were peaceful and content.

Considering all of this as he watched her prepare dinner for the two of them, his nerves started to overwhelm him. The tension radiating from her was palpable. Surely their idyllic situation could not be as perfect as it seemed. No one is perfect. Not him, he knew, and probably not her either. They were likely at the point in the relationship where someone's flaws were about to be shown. He did not want this to end. He was tired of relationships ending. He wanted the peace to continue.

Her words broke his thoughts, "How long are you going to stare at me for?" She stole a peek at him, threw a sly smile his way, then turned back to the sauteeing chicken.

Lowering his eyes and taking a step closer he said, "I guess long enough to get up the nerve to ask you what's wrong."

She thought for a moment about how to best formulate her answer. He was a celebrated police lieutenant after all. But then she was an equally successful detective and she could deflect with the best of them. "I'm good," she finally chose as her reply.

Nodding slowly, he continued forward until he was standing right next to her. If invasion of her space bothered her, she didn't let on. "Not exactly an answer to my question, now is it?"

"Yeah," she said lowering the heat on the stove. "But that's all you're going to get." She turned to move towards the refrigerator when his hand reached for her wrist. Stilling, she flipped her gaze on his hand, holding her wrist. She loved him. And she trusted him. But she wasn't ready to let him in.

Though they were alone in the room, in the whole vast house actually, he whispered, "You don't have to keep things from me."

Moving her eyes up to meet his she said, "I know. But I'm not ready. I worked with him years ago. I don't like him. He'll be gone in a week. That's all you need to know."

She thought he would let go of her then, but he wasn't done. "You don't always have to do everything on your own. You can lean on me."

She didn't think it was possible to love him any more than she did a moment before, but standing in the shadow of the setting sun, this close to him, with his hand on her, looking so deeply into his eyes that it felt like she could fall into them, with him practically begging her to share her soul with him, she loved him so much more. "I know," was all she could say.

He let his hand fall from her wrist and his fingers entwined with hers. She couldn't say whether he pulled slightly or she fell slightly. It was probably both, but she felt herself leaning on him and exhaled all of the worry out of her frame. His other hand found its way to the back of her head and she allowed herself to be held.

"I'm not hungry," she said.

"Neither am I." He let her go long enough to turn off the stove and then lead her to his bedroom.