I stare at myself in the mirror, surprised at how tired I look. My brown hair falls into waves around my face, dark shadows under my eyes which are a flat hazel – as if someone had blown out the fire in them. I don’t recognize myself and, somehow, it scares me. I had fallen asleep thinking of Brian, dreamt of him in that same room filled with lit candles, and then had woken up with him on my mind. I’m so desperate to run away from my thoughts, but I’m at a loss as to how. I run my hands over my face, trying to bring life back to my cheeks but I feel so tired that I just want to crawl back into bed and sleep for the rest of the day. However, it’s now almost evening and I’ve slept for most of the day anyway.

You are being pathetic, London. Get it together.

I look over at Bronx who sits at my feet in the bathroom, eyes holding my gaze. Even he thinks I’m being pitiful. I sigh and saunter back into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed and absentmindedly stare at the patterns on the hardwood floor. After what feels like an eternity, I finally stand up, shrug on a jacket and collect Bronx’s leash.

It’s cold outside with a light snow fall when we step out. My eyes automatically flick over to the house across the street. My heart skips when I realize he’s in his Range Rover, but he doesn’t see me as he pulls away from the curb. Oh, this hurts just seeing him. I wait on my porch until he’s driven off before heading down the block the opposite way with Bronx. The neighborhood is quiet, the smell of homemade dinner wafting from the houses. I realize I’ve yet to eat a full meal today, having only scarfed down a banana earlier.

What’s wrong with you?

At this point, I really don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before. My last break up was bad, but I wasn’t sulking around like this – and I was with the guy for 5 years! I barely even know Brian. Yet, here I am acting all depressed and I can’t seem to pull myself out of it. Beside me, Bronx is walking at a slow pace and I have to coax him to walk a little bit faster. I frown when I see that his tail is between his legs and he’s breathing heavily as we walk back towards the house.

“You okay, boy?” I ask gently, leaning down to scratch his ears. He grumbles his response before picking up pace. I sigh. Maybe my depressing mood is rubbing off on him, too.

When we get back to the house, I’m unsure of what to do with myself. Bronx goes straight for his food and water bowl and doesn’t seem to want to interact too much with me. I can’t blame him; even I want to get away from myself right now. I decide to at least fix myself up some dinner and do some laundry. A couple of hours later, the sun is just setting as I sit at the table, paying some bills and having a glass of wine when I hear paws clawing at the back door. I turn my head to see Bronx by the door, waiting to be let out. I frown. That’s strange; he never usually wants to go to the back of the house. I stand up and let him out anyway, watching as he saunters over to the farthest corner of the yard. He sits there, gazing at me and I’m even more confused about his strange behaviour. Shaking it off, I go back to the table to finish my task and pour myself another glass of wine.

It’s dark outside when I finish and Bronx shows no sign of wanting to go back inside. I stare out the window, watching him, as I wash the dishes. He’s just calmly lying down in the same place on the farthest corner of the yard, his fur gently blowing in the wind. I put the dishes away as well as the leftovers from dinner and decide on watching movies for the rest of the night. I’m looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow – I’m definitely craving some much needed time on the slopes. I open the back door to let Bronx in; surely he’s had enough fresh air by now.

“Bronx!” I call. “Come, boy.” He doesn’t move from his spot in the corner of the yard. He must be sleeping. “Bronx!” I form my mouth into a small ‘O’ and whistle, but again he doesn’t budge. I frown. There’s something wrong. I quickly throw on a pair of boots and make my way through the cold in just a light sweater, trudging through the snow until I reach him. “Bronx?” My voice is quiet, my breath coming out in white mist in front of me. I can feel my heart rate quickening against my chest as I kneel down to shake the large German Shepard in front of me. “Bronx,” I say again. “Hey, come on buddy.” He doesn’t budge and I place my hands against his back. There’s no intake of breath, no mist coming out from his nostrils. No heartbeat. His once warm body is now cold, just like the wind. I gasp and the tears are instant, burning hot against my eyes. “Bronx, come on,” I whisper shakily, but I know… I know. He’s gone.

The reality of this hits me like a ton of bricks and grief floods over me in an instant. Somehow, I manage to stand up and stumble back into the house, clutching at the walls, the chairs, the kitchen table, the couch, and finally the front door. Bronx. My best friend since I could remember. He was just a little puppy when we got him, so hyper and so full of life. Now he’s lying in my backyard, all life gone and there’s no bringing him back. I choke back a sob as I turn the doorknob and the door flies open. I’m running now, running down the porch steps, down my walkway, down the sidewalk but I don’t make it very far. The shock is unbearable. I’m vaguely aware of a set of headlights in front of me as a car stops at the curb beside me. My legs are shaking and, finally, they give out and I fall to the ground, one hand clutching my chest and the other over my mouth as I let the sobs rack my body.

A few seconds later, the driver from the stopped car comes running to me and I feel a pair of arms wrap around my cold body. Musky cologne and body wash. “Baby, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is so comforting as the tears fall freely and I clutch on to him. Please, don’t let me go. “What happened?” His voice is thick with concern and his blue eyes are searching me, eyebrows furrowed and face flushed.

“Bronx,” I manage to gasp out, and my body is racked with another wave of uncontrollable sobs.

I can see the shock register through him. He goes silent, his face falling and he holds me tighter. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, standing me up. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in front of the fireplace for, but at least I’ve stopped crying. Brian’s house is warm and the blankets around me smell of him. It’s comforting. He’s gone across the street to take care of Bronx and let me use his phone to call home and tell my family that Bronx is gone. I still can’t believe it. Bronx was my companion here – the main reason why I kept my sanity at times.

The front door opens and I turn around to see Brian walk in, stomping snow off his boots as he did. His cheeks and nose are flushed red from the cold. I realize the extent of his actions tonight; he loved Bronx too. He gives me a warm smile as he takes off his boots, jacket, and gloves before joining me on the rug. “I covered his body for now,” he tells me, taking my hands in his. “I made the phone call and someone will be picking him up tomorrow morning.” He pauses. “Are you sure you want him cremated?” I nod my response. “Ok, I’ll take care of everything.”

“Thank you,” I reply hoarsely. I wouldn’t have had it in me to make the necessary phone calls and arrangements myself.  

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, the flames from the fire reflected in his eyes.

“Could be better.” I pause. “Could be worse, too.”

He smiles. “He had a great life. He spent it with you.” We both go silent as his expression changes and I’m staring at him, wondering if he meant anything by it but also not wanting to analyze it too much. But he’s gazing back at me with an unfathomable look in his eyes; one that takes my breath away.

“Brian-“

“London-“ We speak up at the same time and I blush, looking down at the space between us. He tilts my chin up and his gaze is so… so gentle, so caring. “Please, don’t leave me,” he whispers and I swallow, my eyes wide as I stare at this beautiful man in front of me.

I shake my head. “We can’t-“

“We can,” he insists. “I’ll keep you safe, baby.” He moves in slowly and I close my eyes, anticipating his lips on mine. They’re soft, warm, and wonderfully familiar. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes,” I whisper and he gently bites my bottom lip. He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine, the only sound in the room coming from the soft crackling of the fire.

“Be with me.” His voice is soft and sincere, yet urgent and needing. “Be with me, London. By my side, as my girl – my woman.”

This is happening. I stare up at him in wonder. “Are you sure? Are we just emotional right now?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve never been this sure of anything in my life.” He looks just as nervous as I am. “I need you to trust me. Let’s make this official, babe. We’ve waited long enough.” I gasp and my lips are on his, almost tackling him to the floor. This is everything that I’ve wanted; this man, right here. Just him. “We belong together,” he murmurs against my lips, taking my head in his hands. “Say yes.”

“Yes, yes.” My voice is a whisper but the words ring clear. He wraps his arms tight around my waist and kisses my face all over, a big smile on his face in between kisses. I cry out in surprise as he picks me up, stands up, and makes his way to the bedroom.

“Wait.” He pauses. “Do you want this? I don’t want to be doing this while you’re in a vulnerable state right now.”

I shake my head. “Brian, this is what I’ve wanted since I met you.”

He smiles and gives me a soft kiss on the lips before proceeding to the bedroom. Ever so gently, he places me down on the bed and crawls on top of me, putting his weight on his elbows. “I was a wreck,” he murmurs, nuzzling my neck and trailing kisses down to my collarbone. I shiver. “I can’t be without you, London.” He kisses up my neck, to my chin, my lips, and finally my forehead. “I need you,” he breathes. I can’t believe he’s saying all of this. I really hope I’m not dreaming.

“What made you change your mind?” I ask softly.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I’m being selfish right now, London… putting you in danger like this. But I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll never let anyone touch you.” I lean up to kiss him, pushing my tongue in his mouth and he responds eagerly.

“You talk too much,” I whisper and he laughs softly.

Slowly, he takes off my sweater and tank top, leaving me in my bra. I help him out of his jeans and t-shirt, feeling his strong biceps and running my hands down his chest and chiseled abs. He slides my sweats down my legs and runs his hands up my thighs – I immediately feel it in my groin. He reaches a finger into my panties and pulls back to look at me, a smirk on his face.

“So ready, baby,” he murmurs, pushing a finger into me and I moan in pleasure, my hips automatically rising to meet his hands. “Shh, relax.” He pushes a second finger in and starts pumping at a steady pace. My breathing becomes heavier, my eyes closed, and lips parted slightly. He leans down and kisses me as his hands work their magic; his thumb rubbing my clit and his fingers steadily thrusting in and out.

Finally, he pulls my panties down and expertly unhooks my bra, leaving me naked and exposed for him. His eyes not leaving mine, he pulls his boxer briefs off and takes his place between my legs. I’m all worked up now, turned on as fuck, and anticipating him inside me. But, to my surprise, he takes it slow; rubbing the tip of his erection against my opening – teasing, making me even wetter. He groans as he pushes his cock into me, slowly pulls out, and then pushes back in again. “Brian. Unh, baby…” I breathe, throwing my head back. The slow teasing is killing me.

“Fuck baby, your pussy’s so wet,” he moans, pushing my legs farther apart with his. Placing both hands at the top of my inner thighs while sitting up, he begins to thrust faster, his fingers finding my clit again. The sensation of this plus his steady pumping throws me over the edge and I’m grabbing at the sheets around me, ready to burst. I open my eyes and stare into his. Blue eyes gazing down at me, bright and full of want. His tongue runs over his now red lips and he bites the bottom, cheeks flushed and hair a mess of soft curls on top of his head. Geez, he’s so sexy.

He leans forward, placing his weight back onto his elbows and slows his pace, eyes not leaving mine. He kisses me, softly and gently and doesn’t stop. This is different, at least it feels different. Usually, our sex is intense, fast, and rough. He’s taking his time tonight, savouring it – we’re making love. The realization hits me and I pull back to look into his eyes. I place my hand on his chest, tracing the outline of his faded scar from his heart surgery and feel the beat against my palm. His stomach clenches, his eyes shut, and he stops his steady thrusting. I feel him release inside me and he’s moaning softly as he does so. He rests his head on my chest, his breathing hard and his forehead sweaty. I play with the curls at the base of his neck and he relaxes, his arms around me squeezing me tighter.

“I can’t be without you either, Brian,” I whisper. I love this man. Yes, really – I love him.