Page 83 of Only You and Me

His booming voice rings out. “Angel! I was thinking we’d see you soon.”

“Hi Chuck. Good to see you.”

He walks up to me, and I give him a side hug, being that I’m not much of a hugger. When I introduce him to Ben and Jack, Ben immediately puts out his hand to shake Chuck’s, and my heart melts a little.

I’ve always known Ben to be compassionate, but there are many people who would hesitate to touch my unkempt friend with his dirty clothes and greasy hair, especially given Chuck’s size. With Ben, there’s not a hint of discomfort or judgment and when Jack follows suit, a lump fills my throat.

Chuck is the unofficial leader of this small community, so when he introduces me, the new residents visibly relax. I explain they can bring their worn-out sleeping mats to the truck to dispose of and pick up a new one, as well as goodie bags. Eight of the ten people follow us out to the truck, the other two, an older couple, her hunched over with what I suspect is bad arthritis and him limping, would struggle with the trip to the vehicles and back. Before I can say anything to them, Jack steps forward and tells them they can wait here. We’ll bring them mats and bags.

Over the next hour, I watch as my friends and family shower the group with kindness. Shayna and Emily are fan favorites as they hand out the goodie bags and bagged lunches. The men stay and eat while my energetic younger sister and her best friend chat away with the guys as if they’ve known each other forever.

Annie, ever the ER nurse, along with Fitz, uses the first aid kit I always bring along to clean and bandage a few minor cuts. Finn and Jack carry mats, lunches, and goodie bags to the couple who stayed back at the encampment while I hand out new mats and Ben stuffs the old mats into contractor garbage bags I brought. He’s wearing the medical gloves I always bring along. Even so, how many men would jump right in and take the job of handling the dirty, and sometimes soiled, trash of a homeless encampment?

It’s right then and there, in the middle of all the activity going on around us, that I stop lying to myself and admit I love my husband.

I love Ben.

* * *

BEN

There’s nothing like an afternoon nap after an early morning. Especially when Trina’s lying next to me.

I watch her as she sleeps with her face free of tension and her breaths full and even. I’m in awe of this woman. Sure, I always have been, but God, today I saw even more depth to her character. Every time I think I can’t feel more love for her than I do, she burrows further into my heart.

She might play the role of a grump sometimes, which I suspect is a defense mechanism, but it’s far from who she really is. The more of herself she lets me see—and love—the less often that grumpy facade appears.

I’m done for. She’s it for me and I want to tell her, but there’s this fear poking at my heart, reminding me we’re past the sixty days she gave me to see if this works. If I tell her how I feel and she doesn’t feel the same, then this might end. Thinking about that makes my chest constrict, but not telling her isn’t really an option.

Trina’s sleepy sapphire-colored eyes flutter open. “Why are you staring at me?” Her voice is sultry even without trying.

I smile at her as I tenderly brush some stray hair off her face. “Just am.”

“Thank you for today,” she whispers. “It meant a lot to me that everyone was there helping, but you… you were so amazing.”

“Whatever.” I chuckle softly. “Says the woman who makes the mats, organizes the drop off, and never ceases to surprise me just when I think I know everything about her.”

Now that she’s awake, I slip my hand onto her hip, the need to touch her too intense to ignore.

“Tell me more things you know about me.” She says it as a statement, but her voice reflects it’s really an ask. An ask that makes her vulnerable and I’ll never not give her what she asks for when she opens herself up to me like this.

“I know you love pasta, but you favor rigatoni noodles over all others.” A sweet chuckle escapes her and it’s a beautiful sound. “I know you’re tone deaf with a horrible singing voice,”—I yelp when she gently pinches my side in protest—“but that doesn’t stop you from singing in the shower.” I smile at her and trace small circles on the smooth skin of her hip with my thumb. I love seeing her so relaxed, especially with all the tension and stress she’s been carrying lately. “You love milk chocolate, can take it or leave it with white chocolate, but you hate dark chocolate even though it’s healthier. I know you’re one of the most compassionate and giving people I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a lot of stuff. But my singing voice is not bad.” She wiggles in the bed to move her body closer to me.

“Do you want to hear one more thing I know?” I hold her gaze as I ask.

She nods, her eyes focused on me.

“I know that I’m proud of you and that I’m happy we accidentally got married.” I move my hand off her hip and cup her cheek. My heart thumps hard and fast inside my chest. “And I know I love you.” Her eyes widen like saucers and her pupils dilate. “I’ve always loved you, Trina. But these last few months it’s morphed into a deeper love, the kind of love a man feels for his wife.”

She doesn’t pull away—so that’s a win—but she seems stunned silent, her mouth hanging open. Though my heart cracks a little, I lean forward and plant a tender kiss on her forehead.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know.”I pull her closer and roll onto my back.

She wraps an arm around my chest and rests her head there.

It’s not what I hoped would happen—well, at least all of what I hoped—but she’s still here with me, in my arms and not bolting for the door at my confession, and that’s something.

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