Close to Home

Elaine's heels clicked softly against the front step as she leaned forward to unlock her door. The porch light cast a warm amber halo around her, catching the deep green shimmer of her dress as it shifted against her hips. Behind them, Roy's car idled in the driveway, the low hum of the engine filling the quiet suburban evening.

Through the windscreen, he could see Michelle in the passenger seat. She sat upright, hands folded loosely in her lap, her face lit faintly by the dashboard glow.

Elaine pushed her key into the lock but didn't turn it yet. She glanced back at him, her expression gentle but purposeful.

"You remember what you promised me?" she asked softly, her eyes darting to the young woman waiting in the car, then back to him.

Roy exhaled slowly. "I remember."

"I'm going to hold you to it, mister," she said, not unkindly. "She's fragile tonight, Roy. Strong in her own way, but fragile. She needs to feel safe. She needs to feel wanted. She needs you to be her man."

"I know," he said quietly.

Elaine studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face, reading things he wasn't sure he could hide even if he tried.

"You were good with her tonight," she continued. "Very good. And... thank you. For trusting me with her."

Roy shook his head slightly. "No. Thank you. For being..." He gestured vaguely toward the house, the evening, the entire complicated, impossible situation, trying to come up with the words. "You've been incredible. To me. To Michelle. I don't know how I got lucky enough to have either of you in my life."

Elaine smiled, soft and luminous.

"I do," she said. "Because you deserve it."

The words landed on him, the irony not lost. The weight of guilt he had just about buried came to the forefront for a moment, reminding him exactly how much he did not deserve this life, these experiences, this incredible woman. At the same time, though, there she was, standing in front of him, love in her eyes. To Elaine, this was all real. To the whole world it was real. It wasn't as if he could do anything to change it. And there were more truths that he had to admit, beyond feeling like he had taken what didn't belong to him, beyond feeling like an imposter.

He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice, and admitted one of them. "I love you, Elaine. Truly. I need you to know that."

Her eyes lit up as she took in his words. Reaching up, she brushed her fingers along his jaw.

"I know," she said. "I love you too."

Roy leaned in, and their lips met slowly. The kiss deepened almost immediately, familiar and warm and steady, like slipping into a favourite place. Her hands rested lightly against his chest, then slid up around his neck as the kiss lingered, stretching longer than either of them intended.

Eventually she pulled back, resting her forehead briefly against his.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight."

She squeezed his hand once more, then turned and unlocked the door. A moment later she disappeared inside, the door closing softly behind her.

Roy stood there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the painted wood as if part of him wanted to knock again. Then he turned.

Michelle was watching him through the windscreen.

The instant their eyes met, she broke into a bright grin and lifted her hand in an enthusiastic wave. Roy felt his own mouth curve into a matching smile before he could stop it.

He walked back to the car.

He loved Elaine. Deeply. Completely. But tonight... tonight was about Michelle.

He opened the driver's door and slid into his seat. The warmth inside the car wrapped around him immediately, carrying faint traces of Michelle's floral perfume.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Always," she said, her voice light.

Sliding the gear shift into reverse, he pulled out of the driveway and eased onto the street. They drove in comfortable quiet for the first few minutes, the neighbourhood lights drifting past in golden pools. Michelle shifted slightly in her seat, turning toward him.

"That restaurant was incredible," she said. "Like... I kept expecting someone to come over and tell me I was in the wrong place."

Roy chuckled softly. "You belonged there."

"It felt fancy," she said, laughing under her breath. "I don't even know how to hold half those forks properly."

"I don't think anyone does,” he said with a grin. "They're mostly decorative intimidation."

She reached across the console and rested her hand on his forearm, her fingers warm and feather-light against his sleeve.

"Being with you feels like that sometimes," she said.

"Like decorative intimidation?" he asked.

She giggled. "No, silly. Like... glamorous. Like I stepped into someone else's life. Someone cooler. Someone prettier. Someone who gets to go to places like that with a boyfriend who actually cares about her. I keep asking myself: What am I doing with this guy? What did I do to deserve this?"

Roy swallowed, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel, her words hitting a little too close to home. But still, there was something about what she was saying that he felt he had to address.

"You don't need me to make you glamorous, Michelle," he said quietly. "You do that all on your own. You're an incredible young woman. You're beautiful, charming, and kind. Any man who didn't see how lucky they were to be with you would be an idiot."

Michelle smiled, watching him for a moment before leaning back into her seat, her hand still resting lightly against him.

"Then I'm glad I didn't end up with an idiot."

She played with the edge of his sleeve as they drove, occasionally tracing small, absent-minded patterns with her fingertips. Each touch sent tiny, electric flickers through his nerves, impossible to ignore. He tried to focus on the road, on the steady rhythm of streetlights sliding across the windshield, but there was no denying the effect she was having on him.

Soon they reached his building. Their building, he corrected silently as he pulled into his parking spot. The thought brought an unexpected ache. He shut off the engine, and the sudden quiet felt heavier than usual.

Inside, Michelle's suitcase sat empty in the hallway outside his bedroom. Her clothes hung in his closet now, bright splashes of colour among his muted shirts. Her toiletries crowded the bathroom counter. Earlier, watching her unpack, he had felt something shift inside him, something domestic and warm and deeply unfamiliar. It had made the apartment feel less like a place he existed in and more like somewhere someone lived.

And she was easy to live with. Bright. Playful. Full of restless optimism that filled empty spaces he hadn't realised had been echoing for years. The idea of waking up with her there every morning made him feel lighter. No more drudgery of routine, but the excitement of possibility. Even the anxiety of Tom's scheme in the back of his mind had quieted itself with Michelle around.

And at the same time, Roy knew that what he was feeling, what he was wanting, was wrong. Michelle wasn't a plaything, nor was she there to soothe his feelings. She was a living, breathing woman with her own future, her own goals, her own destiny. What the wish had done was insert Roy into the middle of all of those things, interrupting her path, rerouting it to make it align with his. He needed to let her go.

Tonight he would do what he had to do. What he had promised to do. The previous night's failure was a warning to him: There were no half-measures. If he was going to give the gift of freedom to Michelle, he was going to have to go all the way.

And then tomorrow, the wish would move her forward, and she would return to her own life, free of him.

He pushed the thought aside and climbed out of the car.

Michelle was already waiting beside him when he reached the sidewalk. She slipped her hand into his easily, naturally, like it had always belonged there. They walked into the building together.

"Tonight was really perfect," she said as they crossed the lobby. "Elaine is amazing. I get why you two are a thing. I can't believe how nice she is."

"She really is," Roy agreed.

"And you," Michelle added, squeezing his hand, "are pretty amazing too."

Roy smiled faintly but said nothing.

They reached the elevator and pressed the button. The hallway hummed quietly around them.

Michelle shifted closer to him, her shoulder brushing his arm.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Yeah?"

"When we get upstairs, can we, like, just go to bed right away?"

Roy glanced down at her. "Are you tired?"

She shook her head slowly, her eyes meeting his with unmistakable intent.

"No."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft, mechanical ding.