She sat in the other chair.
The table remained between them.
“You truly expect nothing tonight?”
“I expect to sleep eventually.”
She smiled faintly.
“And if I said I wanted you beside me?”
His eyes lifted.
“In the bed?”
“Yes.”
He thought.
“That would be fine.”
“No touching?”
“Unless you ask.”
Clara looked down at her hands.
“What if I don't know what I want?”
“Then we do nothing until you do.”
“It could take weeks.”
“All right.”
“Months.”
“All right.”
“What if I never…”
He answered before she finished.
“Then I learn to sleep by a beautiful woman without annoying her.”
Clara’s face warmed.
“That was almost romantic.”
“Accident.”
She laughed.
The tension finally cracked enough to let air into the room.
An hour later, they lay on opposite sides of the narrow bed fully clothed except for boots.
Elias remained above the blanket because he claimed he was warm.
Clara suspected he simply wanted another layer between them.
There was almost two feet of space separating their bodies.
It felt enormous.
“Elias?”
“Yes?”
“Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“You sound unhappy about it.”
“I am trying very hard not to move.”
“Why?”
“Because the bed makes noise.”
As if to prove him right, the mattress creaked beneath his shoulder.
Clara smiled into the darkness.
“You're afraid I'll think you're coming closer.”
“Yes.”
“You may breathe.”
“That is generous.”
Silence again.
Then Clara moved one hand into the space between them.
Palm up.
She did not look at him.
It took Elias several seconds to understand.
Then his large hand shifted.
Stopped just short of hers.
“Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hold my hand before I change my mind.”
His fingers closed around hers.
Carefully.
That was all.
Clara slept better than she had in years.
The next morning, Elias burned breakfast.
Not slightly.
Completely.
Clara woke to smoke and found him glaring at a blackened pan as if it had betrayed him personally.
“What happened?”
“I was making biscuits.”
She looked into the skillet.
“No.”
He frowned.
“No?”
“You were making a weapon.”
“I followed the recipe.”
“What recipe?”
“My father's.”
“That explains why he spent his life alone.”
Elias looked offended.
Clara laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
She took the pan.
“I can cook.”