Page 96 of All The Happily Ever Afters

Years ago, at the Golden Coast, he held my hand on our honeymoon and told me he’d love me forever. I love this man with everything in me, but I don’t know how much longer we can survive this.

“I have to. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to.”

My throat’s tight when I nod in understanding.

It’s a Saturday and I’m in nothing but a robe, while he’s fully dressed in a slate gray suit. I want to sleep in and kiss him and love him, to feel him in ways I’ve desperately been missing. And he says he has to go to work.

“Will you be home for dinner?” I question, finding it hard to keep his questioning gaze.

“Of course,” his answer comes out with a careful cadence. Like he knows something’s wrong. “You okay?” he questions.

“I miss you,” I admit my voice cracking; but he already knows I miss him. It’s gotten harder to be away from him, not easier.

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight,” he offers. “A date night. Like we used to do.”

Hope flutters in my chest, and a smile slips onto my lips until he adds, “I just have a few things to wrap up.”

Late nights and constant work comes with who Tristan is. He’s always been this way.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” I answer, closing the distance, getting up on my tip toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

I don’t expect his hand to splay on my lower back, keeping me pinned to him or for him to deepen the kiss. But, oh how I love it. His teeth scrape gently against my bottom lip until I part my lips for me, granting him entry. The warmth spreads through me, from my tippy toes all the way up to my cheeks where I can feel a blush blooming.

When he breaks the kiss, he whispers in the way air between us, “Love you for always.”

I love him for always too. That’s why this hurts so much. It wouldn’t, if I didn’t love him the way I do.

ANA

College is supposed to be where you sow your wild oats, or at least that’s what my grandmother used to say. Back then, when I first laid eyes on Tristan at a pub on main street at the university, I thought he’d be a fun time.

And I thought that’s all it would ever be.

We burned hot together. The casual glances that held on a little too long, the small touches with the passing drinks as a football game played in the background that neither one of us seemed to care about although the rest of the bar roared with excitement or disappointment every other play.

He was tall, dark and handsome. I was wearing my tightest jeans and a flowy top that gave away a little too much cleavage. I thought the moment he leaned down to kiss me, his lips tasting of pale ale and all male, my hand gripping his bicep through a polo, that we’d have a wild night together. One to remember.

I didn’t expect him to call me the next day and tell me he was taking me out that weekend. He didn’t even ask me. He later told me, he was terrified I’d say no if he asked. So he took a risk.

That night I wore a red dress, red is supposed to give you more confidence. And a matching shade of red on my lips forlipstick courage. Complete with my best black heels and a little clutch.

That was the first night he told me I looked beautiful.

A week later was the first morning he made pancakes before I woke up and told me I wasn’t allowed to sneak out in the morning like I had been.

A week after that, he told me he had feelings. Seeing each other every few days, turned into every other, which turned into us spending fairly equal time, always together, at each other’s place.

A month went by before I told him I loved him and he told me he knew, before admitting he loved me too.

I remember it all. Every moment we had. First kiss, first night, first date, first everything.

Each one felt like I wasn’t worthy. It’s scary to fall in love.

He’s the one who said, “I love you for always first.”

In the kitchen, at our first apartment together, he brushed his nose against mine while we were making dinner together and he said it.

I believed him because it felt like it was meant to be. Like we were simply made for each other.

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