Page 70 of Breathe Again

I smiled up at him. “Yes, baby, I’m good.”

He dropped a quick, hard kiss on my mouth then scanned the papers on the table. Surprise registered on his gorgeous face.

“Why do they get the unredacted version?” He pinched my chin between his thumb and his fist. “Hmm, we’ll have to talk about this.”

There was a certain note in his voice that made me wish bedtime were a lot closer than it was.

“I look forward to it,” I teased back.

“You know you guys are like my parents, right? So, eww… yet, at the same time, I’m thinking, go, Zee?” Willa’s face scrunched in confusion, and we all laughed, except for Zale, he gave her the eye crinkle.

After they left, after I made dinner, after we ate, and we were sitting quietly on the couch bookending Olivia, I picked up my tablet.

I went on Amazon Kindle and got the eBook version of the workbook.

I looked at Olivia.

I looked at Zale.

I got to work.

Nowhere Else I’d Rather Be

Zale

She chose Stratford for their night away. Only an hour and a half away, the perfect drive time, just long enough to drink a coffee, talk, and enjoy the changing scenery. She loved driving through Cambridge. Correction, she loved being driven through Cambridge. Anytime she drove she battled nerves, concentrating so hard she didn’t see much more than the white and yellow lane lines on the road. For his work he’d had to drive all overSouthern Ontario, driving didn’t faze him, but he was always a little more focused when he had precious cargo in the car with him.

No show tickets this time, they planned to take a walk through the downtown, the theatre district, and along the river. Thankfully, the weather was brisk but clear and sunny. Walking along the river was first on the agenda, after which they headed out for lunch at The Planet Diner which served the vegan fare that Mara loved. Their motto claimed it as place where herbivores can bring their carnivores. They were not wrong.

Stomachs well-satisfied, they explored the interwoven streets, stopping to browse through the gift shops, laughing when his glasses fogged up from the rapid change in temperature while they perused the shelves of the bookstore and the theatre shop, buying a large, stuffed swan for Olivia, then finally stopping for a break at Coffee Culture.

The smell of fresh coffee and baking was the smell of his childhood home, as well as his home with Mara. Mara cooked and baked from scratch, and the smell of home cooking filled their house often. Smelled like love to him because it was love.

Mara was nervous. He was fairly sure coffee was not going to help, he also knew without enough caffeine she was prone to migraines, and he didn’t want to risk that on this occasion. He wanted her to have a good day, he wanted to have a productive talk, and he wanted to give her a good night, one that he’d enjoy as well. They slipped into a semiprivate booth, and he endeavored to calm her.

“You look pretty, Mara.”

She looked startled, then shy at the compliment. She should be used to receiving compliments from him. He frowned, thought, ‘I’m obviously not doing my job if this is the reaction I’m getting. She should be pleased, not surprised.’

“Thank you, honey.”

Guileless gaze, sweet, shy smile, the same that captivated him years ago.

“You want to tell me what the plan is?”

He was referring to the counselling appointment she’d had, and the research she’d been doing into her condition.

She trained her gaze on her bracelet, the one he bought her, the one she spun when she was nervous, like she was doing at that moment.

“I feel bad, Zee, I feel bad for burdening you with this.”

“Mara,” he started carefully, “putting a label on something doesn’t make it different or new.” He paused to scan her reaction. “I love you. I know what you are, how you are, and who you are. I know all this stuff. I’ve lived it with you. It’s not new to me. I get that it’s a shock to you, but it’s old news to me. It makes no difference.” He leaned toward her over the table, thinking, for once, please, God, let her hear him. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”

Her face registered hope and doubt in equal measure. Now this, this made him sad. This was the pain and grief that he carried, to have all this love for her and her unable to receive it. She did not see herself as loveable, therefore she could not imagine being so loved. She was starving. Steak, mashed potatoes with butter, and steamed veggies were being offered to her on a silver tray, and she couldn’t even smell it.

“I think we’re entering another storm,” she began.

He hoped she was wrong.

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