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Still not much to dither about, so here is a culled snippet from my latest Flack/Stanhope crack. It's pretty, but after having Flack angst about the distance between them for 14 pages, I thought the tearful reconciliation and confidence came too quickly, so I cut it. What they need is dinner and slow, lingering kisses-you know, a mating dance. I still might cannibalize dialogue and turns of phrase.
Without further ado:
"But you said-," she began.
"Sssh. I was a prick, and I'm sorry, doll."
She blinked at him, her eyes huge and wet inside her face. "Did you really want me to go away?" Miserable and pleading, spidersilk cracks crawling across spun-sugar glass.
He gathered her in his arms, hand curled around her slender, bobbing nape. "No. No," he assured her, and began to rock from toe to heel. "You are the one thing I never want to go away." His chest ached.
She began to shudder in his arms. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she croaked. "And I didn't mean to hover and be a pain in the ass, I swear. By the time, I got there, you were in pre-op, and the doctor wouldn't let me in to see you. Ordinarily, the spouse is allowed, but because of the wheelchair, they couldn't. They said even with a mask, my wheels could carry contaminants that could infect you. I offered to crawl on my hands and knees, but…" A choked sob. I wound up watching you through the glass. I wanted to touch you, to kiss you and tell you I loved you one more time in case…" She was crying openly now, and he could feel her struggling to expel the words that were lodged in her throat. "But they wouldn't let me." It was a wail. "So I swore that if I got you back, I'd never let go. Look how well that turned out," she finished drily, and then she began to cry in earnest.
I offered to crawl on my hands and knees.
Without further ado:
"But you said-," she began.
"Sssh. I was a prick, and I'm sorry, doll."
She blinked at him, her eyes huge and wet inside her face. "Did you really want me to go away?" Miserable and pleading, spidersilk cracks crawling across spun-sugar glass.
He gathered her in his arms, hand curled around her slender, bobbing nape. "No. No," he assured her, and began to rock from toe to heel. "You are the one thing I never want to go away." His chest ached.
She began to shudder in his arms. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she croaked. "And I didn't mean to hover and be a pain in the ass, I swear. By the time, I got there, you were in pre-op, and the doctor wouldn't let me in to see you. Ordinarily, the spouse is allowed, but because of the wheelchair, they couldn't. They said even with a mask, my wheels could carry contaminants that could infect you. I offered to crawl on my hands and knees, but…" A choked sob. I wound up watching you through the glass. I wanted to touch you, to kiss you and tell you I loved you one more time in case…" She was crying openly now, and he could feel her struggling to expel the words that were lodged in her throat. "But they wouldn't let me." It was a wail. "So I swore that if I got you back, I'd never let go. Look how well that turned out," she finished drily, and then she began to cry in earnest.
I offered to crawl on my hands and knees.
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