Linda sat up in bed immediately that morning once she realized there was a low growl next to her. She frantically turned her head to the source of the noise, and her eyes went wide at the sight.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping. Her boyfriend of nearly a year was sleeping in her bed, hugging her pillows, and all while her kids were in the house. She threw off her blankets quickly, fumbling around a bit from her tiredness, and tiptoed to her bathroom.
She shut the door behind her and breathed, holding her forehead and trying to regroup her thoughts. What have I done? What have we done? The thoughts pulsed in her brain, He can't be here! Why did I let him stay that late—the thought ended when she realized the dress she had worn last night thrown carelessly on the bathroom floor. She blinked and sighed in exasperation, Perfect, Linda, you slept with a man while your kids were two doors down. She mentally slapped herself, and walked over not to pick the garment up, but to kick it in frustration.
She crossed her arms and looked into the bathroom mirror above the sink, she was wearing his shirt from last night. She pressed her lips together and examined herself; messy red hair, tired-looking eyes, skin slightly flushed. Yep, all the signs were there. She looked down into the sink allowing what she had done to soak in.
Then suddenly, she realized, He's…he's the first since Phillip…she felt like crying at the memory of her deceased husband.
But the tears did not come.
It was an odd feeling, not being able to cry for the man she loved so dearly. She looked up finally and saw no sadness in her face, but a mere blank expression. She still felt for her children's father deeply, and wanted him to be remembered, yet there was this new man she felt for. This man that was asleep in her bed, snoring as if he was in his own home. She had cared enough about him to spend a night with him, and even to spend countless enjoyable, wonderful, laughable moments with him. She was feeling love again.
She smiled, not at herself, but rather in thankfulness. She was grateful to feel so comfortable with Lawrence, and not let the memories of her previous husband go at the same time. She sighed in great relief, because somehow, things would work out. She turned away from the mirror and looked at the door to the bathroom, the door that would open to her new life.
The door was thrown open and sunlight was already peering into the room. She blinked in the new light, still standing in the doorway of her bathroom. When she looked straight ahead to her bed, she saw Lawrence sitting up with a yawn. He blinked in the light as well, and turned his head to see her. He had an almost child-like blush on her face, "Morning, love," he said a little awkwardly in his British accent.
Linda understood his concern, "You're ok, Lawrence," she said with a comfortable smile, walking over to the bed. She sat on the edge of it with her hands in her lap, as he reached for his glasses by the nightstand to see her properly.
He smiled a little sheepishly, "I suppose I should apologize, shouldn't I?"
She shook her head, "No, you don't need to apologize for anything, dear," she said softly, "I mean, this is fine, this is perfectly fine. 'Cause it's not like we're going to be anything short-term," she rested a hand on his knee in comfort.
Lawrence nodded, still a little sleepy despite the situation.
She giggled, "But I probably should go get Phineas, he's an early riser," she stood up happily, but turned her head back to look at him, "Why don't you go pick up Ferb from you sitter's and we'll all go out for breakfast," she suggested cheerfully.
Lawrence couldn't have wanted anything more, "That sounds lovely," he chirped as she began heading for the door, "And, darling?" he called out.
She had her hand on the doorknob, but turned around in response. Lawrence was wearing his schoolboy blush again, "I like your shirt," he said as if sharing a private joke.
With a playful roll of her eyes, she reached for the robe hanging on the door and exited her bedroom.