Page 55 of The Next Of Us
Bending his neck, he curled his big body around mine.“What are you sorry for, baby?I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“No,” I shook my head but refused to release him.In any case, I was too ashamed to meet his eyes.“I know you’re struggling.I shouldn’t have walked out.I won’t do it again.We’ll figure it out together.”
His chest expanded so deeply it lifted me to my toes.“Thank you.”For several moments, he held my tight to his chest, his steady breathing regulating mine.He continued, “I went to Mom and Max’s place.We had a great talk.And we’ve got a plan.”
I involuntarily stiffened in his arms.
He squeezed me tighter.“Don’t go there, I’m not making plans for us with Mom and Max, I went to Max for advice and made plans with him for moving forward with the practice.Then Mom made us breakfast.She doesn’t even know what’s going on yet.I wanted to talk to you first.”Dipping his knees, he picked me up against his chest and rocked us back and forth.“I missed you last night.”
I closed my eyes.“I missed you, too.Let’s not do that again.”
“Agreed.”Setting me down on my feet, he grasped my upper arms and pushed me back half a step.His hazel eyes dark and serious, he murmured, “Make us some hot chocolate while I take my coat off and turn on the fireplace?”
I looked up into his uncharacteristically serious face.As handsome as he was, I didn’t like to see him so serious all the time.
So tired.
More than ever, I wanted him to make whatever changes were necessary to be the version of himself that existed up at the cabin on Moose Lake.But that change had to come from him.
“And then we’ll talk?”
He cupped his hands around my jaw and pressed his mouth to my forehead.“Then we’ll talk.”
A strange concoction of hope and anxiety brewed in my stomach as I puttered around the kitchen gathering supplies to make hot chocolate.We hadn’t used the powder stuff in years, not since my other mother-in-law, a brilliant chocolatier, taught me how she made it.
With the cocoa and milk warming on the stove, I selected the two mugs I hand-carried back from Portugal so long ago.By the time I tipped the hot mix into the mugs and added a splash of vanilla, Aaron stood at the sink washing his hands.
Everywhere I looked, were reminders of us.
Snagging the tea towel off the handle of the stove, he dried his hands and raised his eyebrows at me.“Ready?”
I nodded and followed him into the family room, handed him his hot cocoa, and curled up in the corner of the couch facing him.To give myself something to do while I waited for him to speak, I hugged my mug and blew gently across the steaming surface.
“It’s going to take time,” he began hesitantly.“Six to twelve months.”
I dropped my lids over my eyes to hide my disappointment.
Did you expect it to be easy?
Knowing how he’d been struggling, I should have expected this would be a slow and difficult process.I inhaled slowly to steady my heartbeat.
We’d been through so much together; this would not be the thing to break us.
Worse case scenario, we revisit our situation in a year.Until then, I’d do everything I could to support him.
“We’ve decided to hire two therapists for the practice.”
Hope shot clear through me as my eyes lifted to meet his.“Two?”
Two more therapists would mean he’d work less hours.
Two would mean less pressure on him.
Two would mean we’d have more time together.
Time to dream.
Time to plan.
