“Sorry, dude. We can figure out a schedule for our sprint sessions this weekend.”
“It’s fine, Hen. You sound different already,” he tells me. “Happier.”
“I am.”
“It’s noticeable, even just over the phone.”
All I can do is smile as he tells me that. I know he was skeptical when I told him I was giving Amelia a second chance, but I’m glad I have him. He’s a wonderful friend.
“Thanks, Mitch.”
“Have a good morning, buddy,” he says as he hangs up. I turn my attention back to Amelia, who’s staring at me.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“I’m mad at you,” she tells me with a tired smirk.
“Already? Wow, that has to be a record.”
“I was going to wake up before you and make you breakfast in bed with whatever I could find in your kitchen, but my plan was thwarted.”
“I’m sorry, Mills,” I say as I press a kiss to her head. “Why don’t we make something together?”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “But this isn't how I wanted to start our new chapter.”
“How did you sleep?”
“The best I have in years,” she whispers to me. “And it’s all because of you.”
I throw the covers off us and grab my shirt, walking around to where she sits in bed, putting it around her and buttoning it up. She stares back at me, her beautiful eyes shining in the low light of my bedroom.
“You know, I thought our new chapter started pretty well,” I joke as she whacks me with a pillow.
“Shut up,” she says with a laugh, the sound filtering through my ears and flooding my body.
“Come on, beautiful,” I say as I grab her hand and lead her into my kitchen. “Let's get you some coffee.”
“You always know the way to my heart, Hen.” She smiles as she sits on my counter.
“Always have and always will.” Once we’re caffeinated, I start to make some pancakes while Ames turns the playlist on from last night and connects it to my speaker, the music quietly playing in the background.
I was always worried my story would end with me being unhappy for the rest of my life. I know there’s a phrase that says the good guys get to be happy, but I always had a hard time believing that. I thought I was doomed to some existence where the happiness I was meant to find was simply through my books. I always worried I’d be too busy making fictional characters happy, and I’d never achieve it.
But as I watch Amelia float around my kitchen wearing my shirt, a huge smile on both of our faces, I realize happiness isn't a stranger to me anymore.
In fact, it’s my companion as I enter this new phase of my life with her by my side.
“I’ll set the table,” she says as she grabs plates and silverware.
“Thank you.”
I plate the pancakes and grab some fruit, throwing it into a bowl before I meet her at the table. Sitting down next to her, I’m unable to stop myself from grabbing her hand and kissing her.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she says as I grab her a pancake. “It’s not bad, don’t worry. I just didn't get to say it last night.”
“Well, we were busy doing other things, so that’s okay.”
Her cheeks turn red at the memory of last night. “I know communication is the most important thing going forward, at least for me it is. My mind works a lot differently than most, and it’s been less than a year of me having a diagnosis. I'm still figuring out what works best for me, so there might be some trial and error until I solidify a routine.”