Minnie watches from her bench, impressed both at Harry's physique and ability to beat the shit out of the bag, but also with his patience in teaching Xavier. In fact, she's turned on at the sight of her man punching and kicking, his calves firm, his upper arms solid. No wonder he's so amazing in bed. Of all the workouts Minnie has ever tried, kickboxing has not been one of them, but now she rather wishes she'd learned so she could participate. Maybe she'll ask Harry to teach her.

For Xavier, the workout has been what he needed. Every time he comes into contact with the bag, it's his own face he's picturing. The anger he's felt has centered at his core, and it has become clear that Harry's words in the limo were accurate. The only person he can be angry with is himself. He's the one who fucked up by freaking out about Meg's son.

When he's fully winded and worn down, Xavier hugs the bag, exhausted. Next to him, Harry continues with his powerful hits and kicks. Damn. How did the old man have this much stamina?

==========

I catch Xavier watching me, and I give the bag two more kicks before I back away. "If you want to learn more, we can come back tomorrow. Or next week."

While I can see the teen warring with a snarky answer, I also know that he's considering it. With a single nod, he acquiesces, and I feel like I've won the lottery.

When we pass Ian on our way to the showers, the older man claps me on the shoulder, "If this actor-slash-musician thing doesn't work out for you, Styles, I'll gladly hire you as one of our instructors."

Rolling my eyes, I smile at him while inside my pride blossoms. Minnie sees my smile, and she knows. But it's okay because I can see that she's proud of me too. My pleasure at being complimented by these two people who mean so much to me, on top of Xavier's agreement that he wants to learn more, combine into one of the best feelings I've had in awhile.

After quick showers, the three of us are once more back in the limo, smelly gym clothes in a plastic bag provided by LA.KO on the floor. Xavier is more relaxed now, and when he asks for a tequila, I give him a small glass of it with a caution, "No more at the party, my friend. The publicity you get from being drunk at something like this can never be lived down. We will both stick to sparkling water when we get there."

The smile Minnie gives me in that moment is enough to light up a thousand planets. I am so honored to have made her happy. Pausing, I recall the way she'd seemed to be off her game earlier. Surely she's dealt with hundreds of crises in her career that were as dangerous as this one. Yet tonight she'd looked weary. Almost broken at the thought of having to figure out a solution for this client. Tilting my head, I try to send her a message with my eyes. Either she chooses to ignore me or she hasn't caught the meaning behind my expression.

By the time we arrive, the party is in full swing. This is the perfect way to enter a party, especially when you're the star of the movie. Everyone is thrilled to see you, and they all want to congratulate you. Of the three of us, I'm not sure who really paid attention to the movie at the premiere, but Xavier and I both receive our share of kudos.

As is her usual modus operandi, Minnie slinks away into a corner of the restaurant, nursing a small plate of crudités and a glass of wine. I spend about 45 minutes trying to make my way to her, but various cast and crew members stop me on the way as they congratulate me for my performance. Every time one person moves out of my way, I glimpse her sitting by herself, nursing her wine and watching Xavier. But then someone else pops in front of me before I've made it two feet closer.

Xavier is holding his own, and I'm relieved to see it. Most likely I don't deserve any credit for his current ability to smile and be charming since he has always had the power. But I'm going to pat myself on the back anyway. When we'd left the premiere, there was no way he could have come straight to the party. And yet here he is, chatting with everyone around him as though nothing is bothering him. He's a better actor than I thought.

It's nearly two in the morning before I make it the final distance to Minnie. I think we're both fading pretty quickly, so I give her a signal. She smiles, and we both gesture to the kid. I'm relieved we can take the teenager home first since his place is on the way to Minnie's. Saves me the hassle of inventing an excuse, either for the teen's sake or for my girl's sake. Once Xavier exits the car, and we make plans to workout on Monday morning, I breathe a sigh of relief. It's just me and my lo-- Minnie.

Kicking her shoes off, she puts her feet up on the opposite seat as I wrap my arm around her. There's no question in either of our minds that I'm staying with her tonight. It's a given. No more nonverbal pleading as she stands at the door to her apartment building. No more gazing at her wistfully as she sits in the audience at a talk show. Just pure comfort in knowing what's coming. (Or rather WHO is coming -- snort.)

"Frank! How did Daisy do tonight?" Minnie calls to the doorman as we saunter past, my girl holding her shoes in her hand.

He tips his hat to me before responding, "Ms. Wakefield. Mr. Styles. Daisy was a delight tonight. Hope you don't mind if she stayed down here and kept me company for a bit."

The smile that crosses Minnie's face is pure pleasure. "Not at all, Frank. I'm glad that she had someone to watch over her."

"She's a sweetheart, Ms. Wakefield. Glad to have her as part of our community."

"Thank you," Minnie grins, "I appreciate your time. I'll put a special bonus in this month's check."

"Don't you dare," the large black man admonishes from his seat as we approach the elevator, "You're given me enough of a treat with that enthusiastic mutt."

In the elevator, Minnie leans her back against the side, and I can't stop looking at her. But I don't touch her. Instead, I observe her from head to toe. She's wearing that Versace dress with its lace overlay, and the whole thing makes me rather heated. She fills it well, even though she's a tiny thing. Her shoes in her hand twirl from side to side as she stands in her stockinged feet, her legs crossed over each other as the lift moves to the 12th floor.

With a ding, the doors open, and we both walk out. It's like coming home. Which, of course, it is for her. Daisy scrambles from her bed, running across the wood floors towards us, her three legs pumping fast. She doesn't let that missing leg slow her down one bit. She runs right up to Minnie, jumping on her, and my girl doesn't let the fact that she's wearing a very expensive Versace dress stop her from giving love and pats to this creature.

When Daisy has had all of the loving she wants from her owner, she jumps on me, and I'm so happy to be known to her that I rub her ears and scratch behind her collar. She gives me kisses, and we're all happy.

Finally, the dog calms down and Minnie tells her sternly, "Bed, Daisy," and the little angel hops off to her bed without complaint. And here I was worried that they weren't settling in well together. Seems that was a false assumption on my part. My eyes crinkle when I smile, and I know my dimple is out as I turn to this woman who has changed my life.

She takes my hand, leading me to the bedroom where we act as though this is any normal night. First Minnie strips her clothing in the closet, hanging her dress up. "No Versace on the floor," she calls to me, and I laugh out loud at her mention of the old song. "I mean, Versace is expensive, and I may need to wear this dress for some other occasion! No one pays attention to publicists anyway!"

At that, I stand at the door of the closet, unhooking my cufflinks and unbuttoning my shirt as I watch her remove her bra and stockings. She's beautiful, even though I know she's exhausted. Her hair tonight was styled in ringlets, and my fingers ache to touch them. Turning to me wearing only her panties, she smiles.

"Is that what you're wearing to bed?" she asks, and I give her my best mock look of surprise.

"What? Is this not good enough for your bed, my lady?"

She shrugs as she pulls on a robe before sliding the silk panties off. I get harder watching her, but then she struts by me, the dressing gown open so that everything is on display, and I groan out loud.

I live for you. I long for you.

The water runs, and I know she's removing her makeup, so I quickly slip out of my Gucci suit, hanging it on an extra set of hangers near the door. My shoes are next along with my socks, and it's as I'm taking off my trousers that it occurs to me I don't have any clean clothes. Maybe next time I come over, I should bring a bag of some items to leave here? The thought warms me from the inside out, and I tiptoe out to the vanity where she's applying her moisturizer, wrapping my arms around her waist as I rest my cheek between her shoulder blades.

Rather than stopping her routine, she merely pats my hand as she applies her lotion. With a contented sigh, I release her, stepping to her side to grab my toothbrush from where I left it before we went to New York.

As I brush my teeth, she uses the loo, and it strikes me how domestic we've become so quickly, the likes of which I haven't experienced since Misty. It should scare me. Instead, it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling that flows through my veins. With Misty, the domesticity was present, but the cozy feeling was absent. She never wanted me to see her take off her makeup or observe her in any less than perfect circumstances. It stifled our relationship more than I realized at the time.

After washing her hands, Minnie moves past me, removing her dressing gown and allowing it to slide to the floor as she approaches her side of the bed. (Yes, okay. We have our own sides of the bed now. Didn't I just say we've become quite comfortable together?) Flipping the switch for the light in the bathroom, I follow her, climbing into the other side of the bed, turning off the lamp at my bedside table.

I gather her in my arms, and then it dawns on me that perhaps we don't need to have sex tonight. For the first time since I've met her, I'm actually considering what it would be like if we just cuddled all night long. Holding her. Having her warmth merge with mine.

When she turns to me, her lips pressing to mine, I open to her, allowing her tongue to sweep and tangle with mine. When the kiss ends, she sighs, settling her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her, and whisper quietly, "Would you be okay if....."

I stall, uncertain if I really want to ask what I'm thinking. Cause it's a different playing field for us. But when she stills, and I know that she's worried I'm going to ask for something that might be outside her comfort zone, I know I need to finish my statement, "...we just cuddle tonight?"

Her soft laughter fills me with joy.

"I was hoping you'd be okay with that. I mean, if you want sex, I'm up for it. But I'm truly tired, H. I'd like to just sleep. If that's okay?" She'd started out strong, but her hesitant end to the question makes me wonder if maybe she's a bit insecure about our relationship (if that's what this is).

I press a kiss to her shoulder as I gather her naked body close to me, playing big spoon to her little spoon. "It would be my supreme honor to not fuck you tonight, Lady Minnie," I tell her, and I am slightly tense until she giggles and relaxes into me. I'm not sure who falls asleep first. But it's the most restful sleep I've experienced in months.

============

Xavier had been fine when Olivia and Harry had dropped him off. He'd gone inside and prepared for bed. 'Twas the middle of the night after all. But the longer he lay in his bed, the more thoughts of his sweet Meg swirled around and he couldn't sleep.

It must be nearly five in the morning when he gives up, crawling out of bed to pull on a pair of jeans over his naked bits. Shoes without socks come next and then an old t-shirt. Who cares what he looks like if his sweet Meg rejects him?

His eyes barely open, but his heart fully exposed, Xavier drives to Meg's apartment. She'd always wanted to meet at his place, but that last time after their picnic, she'd allowed him to drive her to her complex. This morning, before the sun has fully risen, he parks outside her apartment, hoping he can figure out which one is hers. His anxiety is lessened when he finds a list of tenants and their apartment numbers. "M Bauer - 1506." He waits until someone comes out of the door to her building, letting himself in and taking the elevator to the 15th floor.

Sitting outside her door, he rests his head against the metal, determined to convince her of his feelings when she opens the door. Instead, he falls asleep.

When Meg awakens in the morning, she decides to go out for breakfast as a treat for not freaking out and racing to the after party last night. She misses Xavier so much. The way he always smiled at her. The way he caressed her hand whenever she passed over his coffee. Shaking her head, she bundles up Titus who cries at being awakened so early. When she opens the door to head to her car, determined that chocolate chip pancakes with extra chocolate chips can fix all of her problems, she's astonished when Xavier's head bangs on the floor of her apartment as the door is flung open wide.

"ZAAAAAVVVVVERRRRRRRR!" Titus squeals, pointing at the man on the ground who is starting to wake up after the abrupt bonking of his head on the tile entryway. "ZAVER MY FRIEND!" Titus yells.