Page 28 of HoHoHo for You

Tell him you’ll do it. Play along. Pretend to do it. Just leave the important parts out. He can’t knowallof it, see how it consumes you. He’ll leave…

I stared at him, the words on the tip of my tongue. But just as loudly in my head waseverythingthis man had given up to be here with me right now. Every time he’d put aside his own needs to take care of mine. Every time he’d protected me, even when it put him at risk.

That time healmost went to prison for me…

“Sam…” I couldn’t lie to him. I couldn’t tell him I’d do it thennot really do it.

“Please, babe. Let me show you I can take it.”

“You don’t want to deal with the shit—”

“Bridget,” the tone of his voice bordered on sharp. His brows pinched and his eyes were sadandaccusing. “What have I ever done to make you think I’d give up? Or leave? Seriously.”

Oh God.

“But—”

“No buts. Look at me. I love you. I meant those vows—every word. I will tear this world down for you if that’s what it takes. Just… show me. Let me see it. Really see it. Please…Please.”

It felt like picking up a gun and putting it to my chest and pulling the trigger, but I did it. I nodded. And when he squeezed my hands, I swallowed hard and nodded again.

“Okay,” I rasped. “I’ll try.”

Sam slumped and reached for me, but it was like my skin was too tight. I had to pull out of the embrace. I was shaking.

“Tell me what you need?” he whispered, stroking my hair.

I swallowed a roil of nausea and shrugged. “Just… solitude,” I said as honestly as I could. “I need to… to be alone and not… not have to talk.”

His eyes saddened, but he nodded.

I stared down at the bed for a second, struggling to breathe. Was I really going to do this? For real? Then I looked up at him and the way he looked at me, and I never wanted to lose that.

“Talk to God for me,” I breathed.

“Always,” he breathed back.

Then I picked up the box with the snacks, threw the journal and pens into it, then carried it out to the deck.

The deck had one of those big, circle chairs with a thick pad that curled around you. It was my favorite place to sit in the evenings as the sky turned pink. So I carried the box out there and put it on the table, took out the journal, one of the pens, and the bag of pretzels.

Then I sat down, chewing my lip and opened the journal, staring at the blank page.

My foot jiggled and my skin started to itch. I wanted to slam that book closed and scream at him that he couldn’t do this to me, couldn’t make me do this. But as adrenaline flooded my system and I turned like I’d yell at him, I caught myself.

Sam was the best thing that had ever happened to me. And he was right.

I was caged.

If I told him no, he’d hug me, and hold me, and make love to me, and he wouldn’t get mad. I knew that.

I also knew it would be like a little festering sore between us.

Because he had already proven he was willing to doanythingfor me. And I wasn’t willing to dothisto help myself?

“I’m scared,” I breathed, not really sure who I was talking to, squeezing the pen between my fingers.

But I had to do it. I knew it. He was right. It was time.

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