Page 127 of Breathe Again

He continued. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of you, right now, standing in front of me.”

“Hi, Zee,” I murmured softly, meeting his eyes, and offering him a small smile.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at me, his chocolate eyes shiny. “Hi, baby.”

I circled a wide arc around him, trying to read his face, not seeing anything there that hinted at any displeasure with me. I sat in the chair tucked right up beside Marissa, kitty corner to his place on the couch. We held each other's eyes.

“You want to sit with me?” He held out his arm in invitation.

I squirmed and looked away for a moment. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t want to sit with him either. He dropped his arm, and I looked back at him. There was nothing but reassurance in his gaze.

“Not yet. That’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

Surprised, I asked, “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and rubbed hard. “I haven’t been there for you, Mara, not like I should have been. It won’t happen again.” His expression stripped of all artifice, his pain laid bare, he whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

My eyes overflowed, I hesitantly admitted, “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

He shook his head resolutely. “All I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted is you. I haven’t been a good friend to you, but Mara, I never stopped wanting you or loving you. I made mistakes, got my priorities skewed.” He looked hard at me. “It won’t happen again.”

I covered my face with my hands, hiding my shame. He may be able to make promises for better behavior, but what if I couldn’t? I attempted to stop the flow of my tears.

“Zee, I don’t know if I can be right, ever. I just don’t know. This thing in me, it’s big and I’m so tired...”

I wiped my cheeks and he leaned toward me from his place on the couch, his elbows resting on his opened thighs, his linked hands hanging in between.

“We don’t need to have all the answers right now. Please, just come home with me. Nothing else, I’ll ask you for nothing else right now, just come home with me.”

I realized suddenly how trapped he was, as trapped as I was, by all the wrong that was me, all that Olivia needed, by my upbringing and my skewed views, my jealousy, my insecurity, my constant need for reassurance. I hated it for him.

I cried harder, spoke through my tears, “We’re trapped, we’re both trapped.”

“I’m not,” he spoke low and fervently, almost angrily, shifting closer from his place on the couch but still not touching me. “I am not trapped. I am exactly where I want to be. Beside you.”

He stood and held out his hands and I launched myself into his arms, burrowing into his chest to get closer to him. He folded himself all around me, his face tucked into the side of mine.

“I’ve got you this time, gorgeous. I promise you; I’ve got you this time.”

God, his smell, his arms, the stubble on his face against mine, I was never happier than when I was close to him. He was home, to me.

Marissa cleared her throat and began to speak but Zale interrupted, “Just give her another minute, please. She’s pulling herself together.”

He knew me. He knew me and he saw me. I took in a shuddering breath and pulled away slowly, almost apologetically. I needed space.

“Will you sit with me on the couch?”

I nodded and sat a foot away from him on the couch. He splayed his hand on the cushion between us and I placed mine beside his, our fingers reaching and just barely touching. We kept that small contact throughout the rest of the appointment.

We outlined plans for continued therapy, and the time came for him to leave, if only for a few hours. He would be back to pick me up after my afternoon appointment with Marissa. He smiled for the first time since he’d gotten there.

“I’m so glad you’re coming home, Mara.”

I must have looked doubtful. “It’s not going to be easy, Zee, I’m unable to be like I was before, holding everything in and holding everything together. I’m pretty broken right now. I don’t have great control over my emotions or my reactions right now.”

He covered my hand with his and squeezed. “It’s better this way. Sometimes things need to break to be put back together properly. We’ll be more beautiful for the breaking. Like one of those broken vases your sister loves so much.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I agreed. We stood up and I immediately turned into his arms. He held me tight, his face pressed against the top of my head.

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