Page 110 of Married to Number 22
Like she had. Like my mom had. Like every woman in my family had.
I always thought the endings were a tragedy, that damned curse was a millstone I couldn’t shed, but the real tragedy was thinking that a life well-lived isn’t worth it just because the ending didn’t turn out as planned.
It was easier to think that I didn’tdeservea happy ending.
Wasn’t worthy of it because?—
Why?
My family’s curse?
My father’s words?
My brother’s bullying?
Or fear and my own insecurities?
Because Aiden…he’s different.
He’smine.
Maybe this marriage won’t work out, maybe I’ll end up alone in a year or five or ten, but I’m not going to let this gift go—not going to squander the gift ofhim,of living a life that’s bright and exciting, vast and challenging, just because I’m scared to fail, scared to be hurt, scared to be alone.
When I was learning to skate, I was afraid to fall.
But I pushed through the bruised knees to excel.
When I was learning to jump, I worried about the landings.
But what I remember the most now is the exultation of completing my first axel.
When I was falling for Aiden as a teenager, I feared I’d hold him back from his dreams.
But the moment I saw him again on TV I was so damned proud of all he accomplished.
When I was caring for Grams, I was scared that every moment with her would be the last.
But each story, each hug, each time I held her hand was a gift.
And when I lost her, almost lost her house, thought that my program at Smythe would never happen…I wasn’t fearful.
Instead, I was determined.
To make her memory count.
To figure out how to keep her house.
To find a way to gain control of those shares and make my program happen.
Determined enough to track Aiden down and marry him.
And with all that determination under my belt, me keeping him at a distance—physical or emotional or otherwise—in order to keep my heart safe, barely even crossed my mind.
Because he’s Aiden.
The man holding me tightly in his arms and laughing with me over hot chocolate. The man coming to my rescue and consistently putting himself between me and my father, my brother. The man who kissed me gently and passionately in equal measure, who learned my body and has never failed to put my pleasure first. The man who brought me a karaoke-loving hockey player and a pair of billionaires with golden hearts…and the man who’s holding me again now, his eyes gentle and patient.
Waiting for me to look at him.
