Page 23 of Indescribable

“I know you don’t,” I tell him, giving him a smile. “But I need more water and to use the bathroom anyway.”

We agrees so we hit pause on the show, do our business, and return to the couch, resuming our positions with my feet in his lap but remind him he doesn’t need to massage my feet.

We watch two more episodes, already falling deep into the show.

“I can’t believe I haven’t watched this show yet,” he says randomly.

“Same. I wish we hadn’t started it. I won’t get anything done.”

He shoots me a dirty look. “You’d better not Netflix cheat on me. You’re only allowed to watch it with me.”

“Netflix cheat?” I ask, my lips twitching in humor.

He grabs the remote and hits pause. “When you watch a show with someone and they watch it without you. It’s a terrible sin. Don’t fall victim.”

“That sounds like a serious transgression.”

He nods, his eyes still on me. “It is. If one person watches without the other, then they’re not on the same episode and can’t have normal discussions about it. Then the person who Netflix cheated has to sit there and pretend they didn’t already see the entire episode and act shocked at the appropriate times. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone. Totally not worth it.”

There’s some really weird logic to this that I can’t deny so I hold up a pinky and we pinky swear on it. The ultimate promise from the time we were old enough to understand what a pinky promise was.

“It’s settled then,” he says and looks at his phone. “I’d better go. I have some early meetings tomorrow and need my beauty sleep.”

I look at the time and realize it’s almost midnight. If I want to have a chance at getting words in tomorrow, I need to get to sleep, too.

We clean up our cups and the bag of Doritos I got out of the cupboard a few episodes ago. I can’t deny the deliciousness of Doritos, even if my waistline hates them. But every bite is worth it.

We stand by the door and for the first time, I feel unsure of how to tell him goodbye.

I should have known I didn’t even need to worry about it for those few seconds because unlike me, Brock is always so sure.

He grabs my hand, leans down, and kisses my forehead. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time tonight.”

“Anytime. Thanks for bringing me a burger.”

He gives me a hard look. “Don’t forget to eat tomorrow.”

“I’ll do my best.”

With a soft shake of his head, he opens the door. “See ya.”

“Drive safe.”

“Always.”

And then he’s gone. And I’m alone. But I don’t feel alone.

Strange that for over a year, even with Wyatt living here, I felt alone. Or maybe lonely is the better word. Even before our separation, I felt it. I heard that was normal when going through infertility treatments, though. To feel alone in the fight.

But right now, looking around my home, I don’t feel alone or lonely.

Happy.

Hopeful.

Surrounded by friends who love me like family.

I’m also giddy. Because Corbin and I are ditching town to get pampered for a few days.

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