Kris was gone the next morning, leaving a short note that she was visiting her parents in Texas for two weeks, and she'd call. I couldn't believe that she left, it wasn't like her at all, she confronted people, she didn't leave notes, that was something I'd do. I had woken up in a tangle of eggshell white sheets and blond hair. Morning light had slowly sifted through my window, the pale layered brightness cast itself on our bodies, warming them. I had awoken before Taylor, and his eyes were closed, face inches from my own. His face looked a little younger without the effect of his eyes, his bone structure had changed in four years, he looked so much older now, the youthfulness that had been so sweet to my eyes before had all but melted, an artful seriousness had overtaken the youthful naiveness. His lips were slightly parted, deliciously thick and sensuous. He rubbed against my shoulder, his skin against mine madHe grabbed my arm just as I was turning. "Uh-uh, I promised you."

"What?"

"You're not to leave my sight." I giggled.

"I have to.. what? No way dude." But I simply looked in the shower as he relieved himself, staying. "So what do you want to do today? Want me to show you around the bay or something? Antique stores galore around here, I love that kind of old stuff. You have to meet this woman who own this store near here..." I felt arms with thin gold hairs enwrap me softly, and his lips were on my neck, making their way down my back. "Or, uh, we could camp it out here, whatever you want." My voice grew wavery and high. "I mean the bay can wait, it's just some fish and.. uh.." I grabbed his hand and led him back to my bed. Morning light streamed in, brighter than the barnlight of our first encounter. My creamy white walls brightened the room, Taylor's hair took on a lighter tone in the light. He carefully laid me on the rumpled sheets and lowered himself on me, my body accepting his. His mouth was on my own, with passion and softness. I struggled to lift his shirt, rumpling his hair a bit, my hands were in his hair and my legs held him in a hard grip. I felt his sex rise in his boxers, next to my cutoffs. His tongue felt of urgency, I broke the kiss.

"Taylor."

"Uh huh?" He wasn't paying attention to me.

"Whoa."

"What?!" His voice was strained.

"Do you think I'm going to leave you again?" Taylor lifted his head to mine and stopped his movements. He stopped, thinking. His head lowered.

"I don't know, I just don't. With you, nothing's ever solid."

"I've never promised you anything, have I?"

"Yeah you did." I was confused, what was he talking about? "After we kissed for the first time, in the hospital, I had to go get a doctor. I asked you to promise not to leave." His voice was low, the words he could've used in a fight against me. Tears found themselves in my eyes. "I believed you."

"You have every right to hate me, you do, you know." I paused, his head was still lowered to my stomach, supporting his weight with his arms, over me. "I've never regretted anything in my life. But you make me regret every second that I've lived ever since I left you. My promises aren't worth much to you, but this I promise you, Taylor Hanson: I will never leave you again, if someone leaves this, it's going to be you." I lifted my tanktop and sportsbra, cupping his head in my hands and lifting it to my face. He looked into my eyes, scared.

"I will never leave you." Tears spilled from my eyes, as I wiped one from his. His lips found mine and we began the art again, slowly, keeping both our needs in check. His lips went my chest as I tugged off his boxers. I softly moaned with elation as his lips and tongue licked and kissed my body. His fingers worked to get my shorts and panties off and we began much like the way we had in the hayloft. Nothing felt forced like then, I accepted him on top of me, slow movements, a steady rhythm, as old as time. As I felt him enter, I felt an impossibly perfect calmness in my mind, I knew he was home. I grabbed him closer, wanting more of him inside, I couldn't get enough. I had felt so empty for so many years. Other lovers had done little, I couldn't explain what he had done right, what he was doing right. His eyes closed as I came, and I held him throughout his, we looked into each others eyes, not quite believing what was happening. We held onto each other like there was no time left for us, clinging, close as two stacked spoons.

"You mentioned me, in interviews." Taylor and I lounged on my bed, his sensuous skin delighted my eyes, and the immortal butterflies that came when I saw him naked settled right back in my stomach. We'd finished making love and were chatting before we began again.

"Yeah, I did. It was more unconscious than it looks though. When I would read the articles, I'd be slapping myself for it."

"Why?"

"I kept on ignoring the fact that I missed you so damn much. The journalists would be asking me about who I was seeing, and I felt horrible because I never wanted to tell them. It didn't feel right, speaking of someone else to them. Like they weren't good enough. I hated doing that, I knew I was wrong, but then I didn't know that it was you. All I knew was that those relationships would never last."

"You know what made me come? I mean the last straw?" I nodded, trying hard not to stare at his body. "Ike got married, I spent a lot of time with him and Sarah, his wife. The more I was with them, the more I began to think of us. Every time they'd kind of go off in their own little world, I'd see us together, and it'd tear me up. My stomach would sink and I'd become so frustrated with what had happened. Ike finally caught up with me, and got me to admit everything, him and Zac. They basically shoved me in the car and told me to go get you." I smiled.

"Then I'll have to thank them, now won't I?" I brushed back a stray strand of gold from his face.

"You're so beautiful." My eyebrow raised, I was by no means beautiful, to me anyways. In society's eyes hell no. I had dirty blonde hair and greenish eyes, usually hidden behind glasses. My bust wasn't all that huge, I was a 34B, nothing more, which I happened to like. I wasn't tall, only around 5' 5", but I liked my fit body and thought I was pretty, but never beautiful.

"How can you say that? Very cheesy Taybean." I looked to him.

"No, I'm serious. You're such a special person, you have so much going for you. I went to one of your readings, you're so... real to me." I propped myself up on my elbows.

"You think so?"

"Yes I do." I looked up to the large, Gothic window in my bedroom.

"I knew you were there, at the reading, I saw you before it began. You have no idea how much I wanted to run to you." I pursed my lips, I couldn't believe that I was confessing everything. "But I couldn't, I don't know why. I just saw you and realized what I had let go, and it hurt, I felt like such a waste. I picked out all the poems about you in my list, I didn't have the guts to really read them to you."

"So you did write about me, I've never gotten anything of yours, I wasn't sure if I wanted to see if you had." I turned toward him, surprised.

"Of course I wrote about you, I don't have affairs like that every week. Writing's my therapy, I had to write so much in order to deal with myself after you. I had to get through that work in order to feel like I was a decent person. Don't think that I was able to walk away from us and feel completely justified." I walked to my closet and took my light, cobalt colored, satin robe out and began to put one arm in it. Taylor moved from the bed and grabbed my hand.

"Wait. Please." My eyes didn't meet his. "It's not all your fault, just listen, it's over now, okay? We're together now, can we just concentrate on that?"

"How isn't it all my fault?!"

"I could've found you, I could've rang you, it's my fault as well as yours. So can we stop this? Please?"

"What do you want from me then?" Taylor took me in his arms, my skin tingled as it touched his.

"I want to start over."