Page 106 of What's Left of Us

“Twelve of anything,” I tell her, pulling out a credit card. “It’s my anniversary.”

Her sigh is loud and disapproving, but she doesn’t turn me away. “What is your wife’s favorite flower?”

I go to answer but realize I don’t know. “I…”

The disapproval thickens in her eyes. “Men,” she chides with a tsk, filling a vase with water and getting to work.

Ten minutes later, I walk out with an assortment of carnations and some sort of greenery for filler that I’d never be able to identify unless she told me.

When I slip into the apartment forty minutes later, all the lights are off except the lone lamp in the bedroom. I poke my head in to see Georgia reading the same book she’s been working on for the past week. The bookmark has barely moved from the page it was on the last time I saw her with it. Am I the reason she’s distracted?

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing I say, catching her attention. Her eyes drift from the book to me, then to the flowers I hold out. “Happy anniversary, Peaches.”

Slowly, her book lowers as she stares at the various shades of pink and white petals I extend out to her.

“I know it’s late, and I should have been home sooner, but I’ll make it up to you.” Setting the vase down on her nightstand, I reach for her hand and interweave our fingers. “Anything you want to do tomorrow, we can. I’ll take you to the bookstore and buy whatever books you want.”

Her face flushes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do,” I insist, caressing her jaw. “I’ve been working nonstop, and you never complain. I owe it to you for how supportive you’ve been.”

She starts shaking her head. “Linc…”

I press a kiss against her cheek and lean my forehead against hers. “I know you don’t think our anniversary matters, but it does. Being with me isn’t easy, but I appreciate how much you put up with just so I can work toward building a better life with you.”

Her eyes stay locked on my hand on top of hers before briefly darting to the flowers. “I…”

“I love you, Georgia.”

My words recapture her focus, her eyes widening as they dart to my face.

I nod, kissing her temple, then her cheek, then her mouth. “I mean it.”

She blinks slowly, absorbing the words that I’ve never said until now. Two years. I’ve shown her a million times and almost admitted it to her on more than one occasion. But she never looked ready.

And maybe part of me was nervous that she never would be. But the more I thought about what Conklin said about her choosing me, the more I remember that she didn’t have to be here.

I never forced her into anything.

She could have walked away.

But she’s here.

Her lips part, but only the smallest exhale escapes them.

The smile I offer her is warm. “You don’t have to say it back. Not yet. I just wanted you to know. Take your time.”

Her throat bobs. “I…I don’t know what love is, Lincoln. I’m not sure I’ve ever really witnessed it. Not since my mother died.”

Her eyes dart to the flowers, and she pales, as if remembering something.

Moving a piece of her newly blond hair away from her face, I tuck it behind her ear. “I don’t think it’s just one thing. Love is a compilation of a lot of little things that mean something to people. One day, I hope to show you exactly what it feels like because it’s…” A warmth settles into my chest. “It’s a damn good feeling.”

She gapes at me, then her eyes go back to the flowers for a third time. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

I ignore the fact I’m still in my regular clothes as I slide into bed beside her and tug her into my body. “I’ll make sure you get used to it then.”

We lie in silence as sleep calls to me. She curls into my arms, but her body is stiff. Eventually, I drift off.

---