Page 90 of His Bittersweet Regret

“Well, how have things been going?”

I stared at my best friend, not really knowing how to answer that. The truth was, it had been going fine, great even, but it also felt surreal. Like we somehow skipped steps and became more adult people than we used to be overnight. We were ourselves, but wiser somehow.

“Things are great. Slightly different than before.”

“That has to be a good thing,” she admitted.

“It is. There’s just this unrealness to it all. And before you say anything, I’m aware I probably made up a word there, but I can’t think of anything else that compares.”

“I think you just keep waiting for the bottom to drop out again,” my bestie suggested.

“That’s probably it.”

“Well, then maybe it’s high time you started embracing your new reality a bit more.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have paperwork stating that the house is now yours. It can’t be taken away from you. Acknowledge that, so you can get comfortable and turn it into the home you always wanted, not something Marsh’s mom designed.”

“Beth, he used my ideas when he got his mother’s help. Things we had talked about before, they were all there in that house.”

“Sure, but Marsh was basing the house off of ideas you had before he left you. You both need to realize, and come to grips with the fact, that you aren’t necessarily the same people anymore. You’re a little bit darker now than you ever were. That’s bound to reflect in the choices you would make now, versus the ones you made then.”

“You’re right. The house seems a little too light and airy for me,” I finally admitted. “I’ve been thinking about getting some darker colored throw pillows to add a bit more color and tone down the overwhelming brightness.”

“You should do that and stop holding back.”

“I think I need to take your advice for more than the house. That is just a replaceable thing. Marsh is not. I think that’s what really has been missing, is that I’ve been holding back a bit where he’s concerned. It’s scary to think that it might all happen again.”

“Okay, well, stop imaging those scenarios!” Bethany insisted with a wide grin on her face. “You know that you have some stability in your life, and security that the house can’t be taken from you, it’s paid for too. That has to count for something, right? I think we need to get you drunk after work tonight. Let go of those inhibitions, and just dive in headfirst with Marsh.”

“I never thought you would be okay with us getting back together.”

She shrugged. “I was never okay with you separating to begin with. I’ve always known the two of you were meant to be. Marsh just had too many people in his head, for far too long, and got confused. Besides, I think you also needed to see that you could survive without him.”

“Well, shit.”

“Well, shit, indeed!” She chuckled and then pulled out a flier that had been ripped off some telephone pole or bulletin board. “What do you say about another open mic night?”

I rolled my eyes. “The last one didn’t exactly go well.”

“Actually, I think the last one went exactly how it was supposed to go. You might even say it was life changing,” Bethany teased. “Look at where you’re living now, and you’re happier, even if things seem unreal for a little while. You have your son at home every night and the love of your life to fall into bed with. Bonus, because you both have a deeper understanding of exactly what you have, and I don’t think either of you will do anything to purposely jeopardize that again in the future.”

“That’s probably true. Fine! Open mic night it is.”

~*~

Later that night, under the heated lights on the stage, I sang my heart out about love, loss, and redemption. Once again, I was met with a standing ovation and a very emotional boyfriend, who opted to watch and wait from the side stage where the curtain could hide most of what he was feeling from the audience.

“That was beautiful, Opal. Fucking stunning and right from the heart,” Marsh gushed at me when I wound up in his arms immediately after leaving the stage.

“Thank you. I’m sorry some of it hurts still,” I told him.

“Nah, don’t apologize. It’s part of what we went through, and a reminder to never take any of it for granted again.”

“A wise woman just told me something similar,” I teased.

“Ms. Morgan?” Someone called out from just behind where we stood. I turned to see a gorgeous man, a little taller than Marsh, and maybe five or so years older than us, standing in a distinguished suit that did all the right things for him. Bethany showed up at that exact moment and threw her arms around me, nearly bowling me over into the well-dressed stranger.

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