Page 130 of Strictly the Worst

I can’t help it, I start to laugh through the tears. “You bought me tampons?”

“I’m trying to be practical.”

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anybody’s ever bought me,” I tell him. I’m not lying. Flowers are easy. But walking into a pharmacy and perusing the shelves in the period aisle?

If I wasn’t already certain I was in love with him before, this would seal it.

“I love you,” I tell him.

“You haven’t seen the rest of what I bought yet.” But there’s a smile on his face. “And by the way, I’m so in love with you.”

I start crying again. “I’m sorry.”

“Never be sorry for showing emotion.” He pulls me close, kisses my forehead.

“I want to have children with you,” I blurt out. Because I’m sure of it. I want it all.

He kisses my jaw, my cheek, then my lips.

“Ditto.”

I’ve never felt safer in my life. Or more loved. As soon as we walk into his apartment he makes me take the painkillers then helps me change into one of his t-shirts, while he makes me a hot water bottle and gives me a choice from the five different chocolate bars he’s bought.

And then he lectures me about making a gyno appointment. I promise to do it on Monday. And he tells me again that whatever I want – kids or no kids – he’s fine with that.

I believe him, too. But now I’m thinking about it, I’m more certain that I want to try for at least one baby with him. Something to talk about with my doctor I guess.

I turn to look at him. “I love you.” Now that I’ve said it once I can’t stop saying it. “So much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses my neck. “And I’m sorry about my mom. She isn’t usually like that. I should have prepared you for them all a little better. Maybe introduced you two somewhere smaller.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to choose between us,” I tell him.

“I don’t feel like that. And there’s no choice anyway.” He kisses me softly. “I don’t want to be without you. I already told you how all in I am. I don’t give a damn how she feels about that.”

The painkillers are starting to work. My abdominal pains are receding. And the anxiety is, too. I make a note to talk about that with the doctor. “Thank you for being so kind to me,” I tell him.

“I always want to be kind to you,” he tells me. “We’re a team.”

My chest tightens. This man is everything. I can’t believe I used to think he was arrogant. He’s not. He’s beautiful and he’s loyal and I want to spend the rest of my life showing him how much I appreciate that.

But I also know he loves his family.

“We can try again with her,” I tell him. I’m not going to let her reaction to me spoil things. We’ve come too far for that.

“There’s no way you have to see her again if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I say. Because I’ve realized something. I’m not scared of her. But I understand her.

I understand that his mom is the scared one. Afraid of change. Of somebody hurting her son. Or even worse, afraid of losing him. Especially after she almost lost him all those years ago when she made the worst decision she ever could.

But she’s still his mom. And he loves her. So I’ll give her a second chance.

“Now can we go to bed?” he asks me, tangling his fingers in my hair as our mouths softly meet. “Because I need to be horizontal with you.”

“I’m on my period.”

“I know. That’s why I’ll be keeping it PG.”

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