Twelve :: Stepping Forward

He was still in the stairwell. If he focused hard enough, he was able to hear the muffled voices of others going by the door, but mostly he stared at the opposite wall. His knuckles ached, his head was pounding. For the past half hour he had tried to come up with a solution. Letting his head fall back against the hard surface, he sighed.

Go back to her, the niggling voice in his mind suggested and he sighed. He'd spent so many years running at the first sign of commitment. Was she worth sticking around? He was on his feet before the voice could answer. She'd made a mistake, yes. But he'd made more than his share over the years. How many times had he been forgiven? Rubbing a hand over his head, he sighed and reached to open the door.

Heading for his room, he rounded the corner and came to a full stop when he saw her. He was vaguely aware of Michael and Stephen racing remote-controlled cars down the hallway, but he had eyes only for Sarah. The look on her face caused a pang in his chest. Hearing a motorized whirring, he stepped to one side, eyes never leaving hers as Michael darted past in pursuit of the runaway car. When the noise faded, he finally found the strength to move forward.

She met him halfway, face crashing against his chest. His arms wound aorund her, holding her close and he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Maybe his parents were right, maybe things were moving too fast. Maybe he was in the wrong for not telling her how he defined their relationship. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't risk letting her slip away. Not when she felt so right in his arms. Not when, with just the whisper of his name, she eased the ache in his heart.

Her fingers curled into his shirt. As though afraid he would pull away again. The gesture only made him haul her closer. She raised her head, lips bumping his chin. "Please, don't ever run away from me again," she whispered. "If you do, I'll just have to come after you."

That was a first. No one before her had ever thought him worthy of going after. When things got rough and he got antsy, they had all just let him go without even trying to coax him back. He should have known that Sarah would have come for him.

He captured her lips in a tender kiss, if only to reassure her that he had nothing bad to say. Though, as her hands traveled upwards to rest on his shoulders, he couldn't help but wonder if she had done the same with John. If she had tilted her head for him as she was—

Breaking the kiss, he forced his grip on her to loosen. "I love you," he whispered when she gazed up at him. The words left him as much for reassurance as to keep her from speaking again. "Let's get Mikey and get outta here for awhile."

Sarah looked up as the bathroom door opened. Adjusting the strap of her silk gown over her left shoulder, she smiled upon seeing Randy enter the room. The freshly pressed white dress shirt was unbuttoned at his throat, the cuffs hanging loose around his wrists, and she saw his muted pink and gray tie was draped around his neck. Even though he was barely dressed, she doubted she had seen him look more handsome. No, she corrected herself as he dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder. He was always handsome. But there was something to be said for a man in a dress shirt and slacks. "Is Michael okay?"

"Playing with the Jericho kids as he calls them. Chris said he's fine. Jessica said to tell you not to worry." His fingers smoothed down her back, finding the pull for the hidden zipper. Lips still against her shoulder, he zipped the gown, lightly nuzzling her neck when he finished. "We'll go get him on our way to the ceremony."

"But—"

"He's fine, Sarah." Randy chuckled, taking a step back. "He's not bothering anyone." One hand trailed down her bare arm before clasping hers. He turned her to face him, and she colored under his close perusal of her figure. "You," he murmured, "look gorgeous."

Her color deepened, free hand moving to fiddle with the beading that slashed down to her hip. The soft pink silk gown fell to the floor, its simple lines giving her figure a sleek appearance. The material was gathered along the beaded accent along her ribcage, and there was a bit of a train that she prayed wouldn't get stepped on during the evening. Heart fluttering when his gaze finally met hers, she offered a hopeful smile. "Are you sure?"

"You couldn't look better if you tried," he murmured, raising her hand to his lips. "Do you go to this kind of thing a lot?"

"No..." she trailed, shaking her head. "Nothing on this scale. Balls at the Governor's Mansion, that sort of thing. One dinner at the White House. And of course the debutante ball when I turned sixteen."

"Wait, wait," he laughed, releasing her hand so he could reach for his tie. "You're telling me that the Hall of Fame outranks the White House?"

"It does."

"How?" he challenged, flipping his collar up.

She met his gaze in the mirror. "For one, I'll be with someone I love, not some grouchy, drunken Senator. Two, I'm actually interested in what's going to happen tonight. Here, I'll do that."

He turned, obediently lifting his chin so she could fix his tie. "Why do women learn to do this?"

"So we can lend a hand when our men become helpless." She tightened the Windsor knot before smoothing his collar. "And so we can have an excuse to touch. The same reason we always buy clothes that need another person to man the zipper, I suppose. You help me, I help you?"

"Does this mean I get to help you undress when we get back?" he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

She turned her head at the last second, patting his cheek apologetically. "Lipstick," she whispered. Then, seeing his smile fade she was quick to raise her lips to his. Lipstick could be reapplied. When they parted she had to struggle to reclaim her breath and somehow managed to grab a tissue to wipe the dark crimson from his lips. "And we'll see." Lifting the hem of her gown, she draped the excess skirting over one arm and hurried into the bedroom of his suite, knowing the time to leave was approaching quickly. She cringed upon seeing her things scattered everywhere. When had she become so messy? She stepped into her silver heeled sandals before leaning over to toss a few things into the new lace-covered solid clutch she had purchased for the night. She made a mental note to get her lipstick from the bathroom, and gasped when it appeared in front of her, nearly disappearing in Randy's large hand. "Thank you," she breathed, dropping it into her clutch. "How much time do we have?"

"About ten minutes." Randy slipped his suit jacket from the wooden valet in the corner. She looked over just in time to see him slip his arms into the sleeves, the dark gray with pinstripes stretching over his shoulders. Their eyes met and he shook his head. "No, you're not going to check on Mikey."

Sarah sighed, perching on the edge of the chair next to the desk. She knew there was nothing to worry about. Michael was in good hands and she would see him in moments. But she couldn't help the feeling that she was ignoring her obligation. She was supposed to be taking care of him, not shaking him off on someone else. He had already requested to stay the night with the children he was currently with. And though Chris and Jessica had said they wouldn't mind a bit, she still hesitated. What if something happened? He was still so small, so frail. Unaware of her actions, she began to chew on her thumbnail. It wasn't until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized that she was anxiously tapping her foot. Glancing up at Randy sheepishly, she lowered her hand and offered a gentle shrug. "I just – what is this?"

'This' was a black, slender, flat box. She immediately recognized it as a jewelry box and her lips parted in surprise when he knelt in front of her. He placed it in her hands and smiled. "Open it and see."

Her heart hammered nervously in her chest. He shouldn't be spending money on jewelry. It was more than enough that he took time out of his busy schedle to be with her. What meant even more was the fact he enjoyed sharing their little time together with Michael. But the most meaningful thing of all was the fact that he had forgiven her for what had happened. Blinking as she looked down at the box, she slowly licked her suddenly dry lips. "You didn't have to... I don't deserve..." Each time she began she faltered at the look on his face. Realizing it was futile to resist, she pried open the lid of the box and gasped.

The white gold tennis bracelet gleamed. The diamonds in each link sparkled in the light and Sarah could only stare. She could tell that it was an expensive piece of jewelry, though the box gave no hint as to which company it was from. Which had to mean he'd had it specially ordered. Blinking back tears, she tentatively ran one finger along the length of the bracelet.

"Oh, Randy," she whispered. "It's stunning. It's too much—"

"Hush," he interrupted. He took the box from her, the large fingers that were always so tender against her skin plucking the bracelet from its bed of black velvet. "Hold out your hand." She did so, turning her wrist upwards so he could fasten the clasp. His hand caught hers, raising it to his lips, and she felt giddy as he kissed her knuckles. "It's almost as beautiful as you."

The man certainly had a way with words. "It's gorgeous, Randy." It was. It was simple, elegant, understated. She was so grateful he hadn't chosen something flashy. Having never been one for jewelry outside a pair of earrings or a simple necklace, she knew it woud take a while for her to get used to the weight of the bracelet. "Thank you," she murmured, watching the diamonds sparkle as she reached for him. "Thank you so much."

"We're okay aren't we?" he asked.

"We're okay," she promised. She wanted to tell him they were perfect but knew he didn't strive for perfection. Not that she did, either.

"Good." He rose, pulling her to her feet. Clasping her hand between his, he brushed kisses over the tips of her fingers. "I love you, Sarah Elizabeth Hartley Anderson Pitt."

Staring up at him, she nodded. Then, seeing the flicker of regret in his eyes, she grabbed his arm before he could step away. "Randy…"

"I understand, Sarah, really. When you're ready, you'll say it. I don't want you to say it until you mean it—"

"I love you," she whispered. Fearing he hadn't heard her, she stepped closer to him. "Randy. I do love you. I think I loved you the first time I saw you talking to Mikey. I knew I could fall in love with you when you didn't pressure me about sex." She stepped closer again, needing him to know.

"When did you know for sure?"

"When you stormed out and I thought you may not come back." His arms were around her now, pulling her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, appreciating the added height of the heels she wore. "I realized then that it would kill me if you stayed away."

Randy hummed, kissing her cheek. She could feel his smile, wondered if he would make a sarcastic comment. Waiting for it, she closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful moment that he would surely break at any moment.

Only, he didn't.

"It would have killed me too," he whispered.

A/N: Yes, I realize it has been over a freaking YEAR. I am so sorry. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and nudged me since the last update. I love all of you. :)