Chapter 22: Five A.M.

Anneliese's POV

At five o'clock exactly, someone knocked on my door.

I had been awake since three, pretending to read.

I opened it in my robe with my hair down.

Ansel stood on the landing in a gray sweater. In his left hand he held a white ceramic mug.

"I brought my own cup," he said.

"I can see that."

"Was that the right way to knock?"

"It was very polite."

"Good. I practiced."

I laughed, and he smiled, and I took him by the sweater and pulled him in.

I made coffee first, because I'd said I would.

We drank it standing at the counter in the gray light, not saying much.

The street was empty. A delivery truck rumbled by below.

He set his mug down, and I set mine down, and neither of us moved.

"Ask me," I said.

"For what?"

"What you want. Say it in words."

His eyes darkened.

"I want to go slowly," he said. "I want to take my time. I want you to tell me when."

"Then I'll tell you."

I took his hand and led him to my bedroom.

Morning light came through the blinds in stripes across the bed.

I pushed him to sit on the edge, and stood between his knees.

I untied my robe and let it fall.

He looked at me in the daylight, all of me, and his breath went out slowly.

"In the beginning I only came in the dark," he said. "I never really looked."

"Look now."

He did.

His hands came up to my waist, and he pressed his mouth to my stomach, just under my ribs.

I slid my fingers into his hair.

"Ansel."

"Yes."

"Lie back."

He lay back on the sheets and I pulled his sweater up over his head.

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