Page 109 of Winning the Nightcap

I would have been afraid to hear the answer from anyone other than Aiden. I wouldn’t have asked in fear that the answer would be no, so sure that I couldn’t make anyone happy. But with Aiden, I don’t have to question if he’s happy being with me. He shows me all the time. When I ask him if he’s happy, I just want to know that he’s okay.

He slides his palm around the side of my neck, his thumb resting along the edge of my jaw. “I used to think I was happy. I tried to bury the shit I never wanted to deal with so deep even I didn’t know it was rotting away somewhere in there. Now that I’m trying to work on myself, digging that all up and clearing it all out feels overwhelming sometimes. Mom’s illness is still difficult for me to handle. But Bec, you make all of that easier. You make me want more. You give me hope that today will be better than yesterday, and even if it’s hard,having you with me makes it easier. I’m so fucking happy with you. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

* * *

When Aiden asked me to take a walk with him after we had dinner at one of our favorite spots downtown, I didn’t expect to find myself outside of the art museum.

“What are we doing here, Aiden?”

“Didn’t you say you try to come here at least once a month?” he asks. He walks backward toward the building, pulling me along in front of him to get closer to the chalkboard wall.

“Someone was paying attention.”

“I wonder if you’ll be able to find what I wrote,” he says.

“You already answered? When?”

“When I got back two weeks ago. Before I came to talk to you and bring you home,” he says.

“You wrote your answer two weeks ago, and waited until now to bring me? Let’s see it.”

“See if you can spot it yourself.”

I smile, loving to hear the playfulness in his tone. Life has felt so serious lately, I love when we get moments like this to enjoy being together and having fun without responsibilities or expectations.

The prompt at the top of the chalkboard wall reads,I’m finally going to…written in swirling calligraphy. The artist who wrote the prompt used a stunning blend of blue, green, and purple hues in the text and the area surrounding it. I begin to read the phrases strangers left behind, and as always, it evokes a sense of belonging within me.

I’m finally going to call my sister. I’m finally going to quit my job. I’m finally going to take that vacation. I’m finally going to break up with him. I’m finally going to write a song. I’m finally going to have a place to callhome. I’m finally going to move on. I’m finally going to live for myself. I’m finally going to ask them out. I’m finally going to…

Hearing the voices of so many people feeling, desiring, and overcoming similar things encapsulates what it means to be perfectly imperfect. That our lives could look so different from the outside, but inside…what we feel is etched into our collective humanity, a beautiful goddamn mess.

I scan the wall but don’t see anything thatfeelslike Aiden.

“I can’t find it. Are you sure it didn’t get erased?” I ask.

“I’m sure,” he says confidently.

I walk closer to the wall then turn back to face him.

“Am I getting warm?”

“Freezing.” He chuckles.

I take a gigantic step to the side. “And now?”

“Warmer…” He smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Another step.

“Warmer…”

Another.

“On fire. Smoking hot,” he says.

I look at the board behind me, planning to give the area a quick scan to see if I can find something written in his handwriting. But there it is. Right in front of me.

I’m finally going to tell her I love her.

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