Page 75 of Until Tomorrow
“I rode a motorcycle tonight,” she told me sleepily, cutting through the intense feelings weaving through my chest. I pressed my lips together to keep from chuckling. There was a sentence I never thought I’d hear. “And I accidentally stole a leather jacket.”
I wasn’t about to touch the theft part of that statement.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” I whispered as I brushed my fingers through her soft hair.
“You didn’t,” she replied. “I’ve been in and out of it. How was your night?”
“I went on a date with Loren and ate six cookies.”
“That’s so many…” That little giggle she let out was adorable.
“I kissed him,” I continued, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.Should I tell her?We’d agreed to share intimate details only if both of us were comfortable. I waited for her to object, but she didn’t. “I liked it… a lot. And I’d like to go out with him again and kiss him again. I don’t… I don’t quite know how to define my sexuality at all, and it drives me insane. I don’t feel attraction the way you do or Elliot or a lot of people, and it bothers me. More than I want to admit out loud because I don’t feel… normal. I don’t question it—at least not so much right now—but I don’t… I know I’m not straight.”
I sucked in a deep breath after rushing through saying everything. The last few sentences came out jumbled. For as little as I questioned it, it was still overwhelming to say out loud.Even if only to Eva.
“You had a big night,” Eva said. “How do you feel?”
“Relieved?”Why was I asking her?“Maybe… I feel… a little more at ease, I think. I don’t have to wonder if all of this was some big mistake. I feel a little more confident knowing that it’s not.”
“It’s never a mistake figuring yourself out, sweetheart,” she assured me, her tone gentle. “It’s important.”
“He said something tonight that I can’t get out of my head,” I continued. “I told him everything lately feels a bit like a midlife crisis, and he said that a midlife crisis is nothing more than realizing you aren’t happy and wanting to do something about it.”
“I can see what he means.”
“Are we happy, Eva?” I asked quietly.
“I’m happy with you,” she hurried to say, which worried me that I’d given her the wrong impression. I wasn’t questioning if our marriage was solid. Not even remotely.
“But arewehappy with this life?” I repeated. “Or did we just fall into what felt comfortable instead of chasing what makes us happy?”
“Oh…” She fell silent as the question sat heavily between us.
“I’m happy with you, Eva,” I said just so she heard me say the words out loud. After asking her for a divorce, I knew how that question could’ve come across wrong. The last thing I wanted was for her to doubt my conviction in us. “I just… I just don’t know if we did the wrong thing, you know? Did we give up everything about ourselves for what we have? My job, our money, our social status… I don’t know if we did the right thing.”
I couldn’t verbalize what I wanted to say. We’d spent years doing the same thing day in and day out. It was routine. It was all we knew. We’d been happy. At least, I’d convinced myself we were happy.
But now?I didn’t know. That little voice in the back of my head said otherwise. And as the weeks passed, that voice grew louder and louder. It was hard to ignore, but I wasn’t even sure I wanted to anymore.What if it was right?What if we weren’t as happy as we thought?
“Do you want to cuddle?” Eva asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“God, yes,” I replied a little too quickly. I was desperate for some kind of comfort.
Pillows were tossed around, and the blankets were rearranged as we met somewhere in the middle of the bed. Her head tucked under my chin as her ear pressed over my heartbeat, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly. That tiny content sigh she let out was soothing, and it was as if she needed this too.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” I admitted.How sad was that?Somewhere along the way, we’d lost the little things like cuddling in bed and holding hands. Was that normal? Did all couples really grow so accustomed to each other that they grew distant without realizing it?
“Me too,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
“Get some sleep, honey,” I said. I pulled the blankets up to her chin and closed my eyes. I counted each breath as I inhaled deeply, letting that delicate aroma of wildflowers and honey lull me to sleep.
True to her word, my wife stole a leather jacket, but that wasn’t the oddest thing in our dining room when I finally pulled myself out of bed. The stack of crappy bar napkins was.
How long had it been since Eva drew?And I meant, honestlydrewsomething. I wasn’t dumb enough to think the graphic design job did anything for her creatively—not like this.
I spread out the napkins, taking in each incredible drawing. It was easy to see where she began—the lines were simple and minimalistic, as if she lacked the confidence to do them. But with every napkin, her art grew bolder and more detailed. The intricacies of what she created were mind-blowing in a way I couldn’t begin to describe.How had I forgotten that my wife was so talented?
The bedroom door creaked open, and Eva came wandering out. I smiled at the sight of her. Mussed up hair, my t-shirt clinging to her hips, and an imprint of her pillow on the side of her face. She was gorgeous.
