Chapter 3Sorry for the delay with this! Summer got really busy, and time got away from me. This chapter is short (the, uh, other version is longer 😉), and I'll post the next chapter very soon
Chapter 4
Clark didn’t want the trip to end; he wasn’t ready to get back to reality, back to the newsroom, back to Super business . . . back to dealing with the whole kryptonite thing. And so, on their last day in St. Lucia, he tried to make every moment last as long as possible.
Their lovemaking, too, on that last day—he kept it slow and careful and loving. They took their time, moving from the bedroom to the shower together. And only after they were finished and the water had started to turn cold did Clark finally accept that their time was over.
They dried each other off, sharing teasing kisses, and when they were done, Clark wrapped his arms around his wife again, marveling as he always did in how well their bodies fit together.
She sighed. “We should get going?”
He heard the reluctance in her voice, mirroring his own feelings, but he nodded into her and hesitantly released her. She smiled almost shyly up at him, then turned and walked out of the bathroom, over to the bed, where she’d set out her clothes. He followed her, taking the moment that her back was to him to shrug his right shoulder experimentally.
The pain had gradually lessened over the last three days. They’d spent a lot of time in the sun, on their own private beach oasis, and he was sure that had helped a lot. The bruising, which he’d been worried about, had faded along with the pain and achiness. He wasn’t entirely sure Lois hadn’t realized it was bothering him or seen the bruising the first day of their trip, when it had been just barely visible, but she had never mentioned it or questioned him.
A wave of guilt washed over him. He’d purposefully hidden it from her, as he’d been purposefully avoiding telling her the truth about his condition. Although he wanted to pretend that he’d planned and tried to tell her, he knew that wasn’t true. He had no plans, no rehearsed words to explain how his body was no longer healing properly after kryptonite exposure. And he knew she was going to demand details, specifics, examples. Just how much slower was he? Just how much did his body ache in the mornings? To what extent was his invulnerability compromised? Could he be hurt, cut, bruised? And what if he was exposed to kryptonite again? Then what? But none of the answers he had were really cut-and-dry. And Dr. Klein hadn’t given him any more updates on the results of his additional tests.
Tension creeped into his shoulders as he stopped behind her and then reached for his own set of fresh clothes, folded neatly in a pile next to hers. They both quickly and wordlessly got dressed and finished packing their things.
He placed the last few clothing items into his luggage bag and then pulled out a small rectangular package, wrapped in shiny silver paper. He turned toward her, watching her stuff her used clothes into her own bag. Her dark hair was now nearly dry and fell over her face, hiding her expression from his view. But her body language seemed a bit tense, her movements stiff, again mirroring his own. He stretched out his free hand and gently touched her arm, and she stilled and twisted her head to look at him.
“I . . . I know we said no gifts this year,” he started, fumbling for the correct words. “But this is for you.”
Her eyes widened at the small package he handed to her as she straightened. She looked up at him, and his knees trembled as their eyes met.
God, what she does to me, he thought, his hand lingering on her arm. He watched her sit slowly on the end of the bed and stare at the package with interest.
“Clark, I didn’t expect . . .” Her voice trailed off as he sat next to her.
“I know, but please just open it,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“Okay.”
She carefully removed the paper, revealing a small white jewelry box. Her eyes widened again and she glanced up at him briefly before tentatively opening the lid, exposing a plain silver chain adorned with a small, light-blue, teardrop-shaped amethyst surrounded by tiny diamonds, all set in crescent-shaped silver.
“Oh my god, Clark, is this . . . ?” Tears glistened at the edges of her eyes as she reverently ran a finger along the silver chain.
“She wanted you to have it.” His voice shook with emotion.
“But—”
“Dad gave it to her on their fifth anniversary,” he explained quietly, reaching out and removing the necklace from the box. He carefully unfastened the clasp and helped her put it on. His fingers lingered on her shoulder, and he leaned in and kissed her neck. “She doesn’t wear it anymore, and she asked me to give it to you.”
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you,” she breathed, leaning back into him. He continued kissing her neck lovingly, and his hands rans up and down her arms as though warming her. “Do you miss him often?” Her voice was tentative but clear.
“All the time,” he responded. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and closed his eyes as he pictured his dad’s face, happy and laughing, just as Clark liked to remember him. Not as he’d been in the weeks before his passing, when he’d fallen dreadfully ill from an undiagnosed heart condition. “I know it’s been almost two years now, but I still think about him nearly every day,” he admitted, tightening his hold on her.
“Maybe we should visit your mom on the way home,” Lois suggested.
She pulled away and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. He closed his eyes as she reached up and cupped his cheek. Her touch comforted him, made him momentarily forget his loss, pulled him out of the deep sense of despair he often felt when he allowed himself to remember that his father was gone.
“That’s a great idea,” he agreed. Although he generally visited her at least two to three times a week, he hadn’t seen his mom in probably a couple of weeks now. “Let me just give her a call and make sure she’ll be there. And then we can get flying.”
He smiled down at his beautiful wife again before lowering his lips to hers and kissing her gently.
Five years of marriage.
His parents had made it to almost forty years before his father had passed away. He pulled back from the kiss and rested his forehead on hers as his shoulders tightened uneasily. Given his own health and . . . situation, he feared he and Lois may not even make it to six years. A shiver ran through him as he pushed the thought away and reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone.
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