Page 41 of Better as It

I glance toward the row of trees at the edge of the cemetery.

“If it were you, if you were here, what would you tell me to do?”

I close my eyes and imagine his voice. Not angry. Just that low, certain tone he used when he knew I wasn’t taking care of myself.

You love who shows up. You stay soft. You don’t hide. And you don’t run from the ones who would bleed for you.

When I stand, the wind picks up and carries away the last of my tears.

“I’m going to move in with him,” I whisper. “Not because it’s easy. Not because I’ve stopped loving you. But because it’s what I’d want you to do for me if the roles were reversed.”

I touch the stone one last time. “Thank you for loving me while you could.”

And then I walk away, the sun warm on my back, my heart cracked wide but open again.

Two Months Later

I step inside with a box under one arm, my other hand resting on my lower back. My feet are throbbing, my ankles look like they belong to someone ten months pregnant, not seven, and I’m sweating in places no one should sweat in October.

“Home sweet home,” I mutter.

Justin is behind me with two more boxes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sure you don’t want me to carry that one too?”

“I need to feel like I’m contributing.”

“You’re growing a human. That’s contribution enough.”

I roll my eyes but don’t argue.

We’ve been prepping for this day since I said yes.

Justin didn’t ask questions. Just kissed my forehead and got to work.

Now, the house smells like paint and new beginnings. The nursery’s still just an empty room with a rocking chair and a couple of picture books, but it’s ours. The dual suites give me space when I need it, but lately... I’ve been drifting more and more into his.

Like tonight.

Later, after most of the boxes are stacked and the sun starts to drop behind the treetops, I collapse onto the couch and peel off my socks.

“My feet hate me.”

Justin drops beside me, lifting one of my legs into his lap. “Want me to work my magic?”

“You say that like you’ve got credentials.”

“I’ve got hands. And sympathy.”

He begins to rub my arch, slow and firm. I groan. Not a polite groan either, no it’s a full-blownGod bless you, mankind of groan.

Justin chuckles. “That good?”

“I might marry you out of foot related gratitude.”

“Noted.” He smirks.

He moves to my other foot, and I close my eyes, head tipping back. “You okay?” I ask softly, voice slurring from how relaxed I feel.

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice is quieter than usual. “Today’s good.”

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