Page 114 of Six Month Wife
“Thank you for doing that,” she says softly. “I don’t know what that means, but I don't need to know all of it to know that was a big thing. And I want you to know I appreciate it, no matter what happens. I appreciate you.”
She takes a step closer. Just one. But it’s enough to crack something wide open between us.
“You’ve done a lot for me,” she says. “More than I expected. More than I deserved.”
“Don’t say that,” I murmur.
“It’s true,” she says. “And I’m not trying to get out of anything by saying it. I just…” She trails off, then glances down at the phone still in her hand. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”
“Like what?”
“Messy. Twisted. Public.” She lifts her chin again. “I hated knowing you saw those photos and thought I picked someone else.”
“I did,” I admit. “For about half an hour, and it wrecked me.”
Her breath hitches.
“Because I didn’t pick someone else,” she says. “I pick you, I keep picking you, even when I didn’t mean to.”
That does something to me. My chest aches, and my hands twitch with the need to touch her.
I close the distance.
I don’t kiss her right away. I rest my hand on her hip, fingers skimming the waistband of her jeans.
Her eyes flutter shut like that alone undoes her.
“You pick me?” I ask. “Then what now?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “But I don’t want to be mad at you anymore. I don’t want to push you away or be afraid of this.”
I brush a strand of hair back from her face. Let my hand linger.
“You don’t have to be.”
“Okay,” she says, almost too quiet to hear.
The air tightens. It's thick with everything we’re not saying.
I pull her in, and she comes. Her forehead tips forward until it rests against my chin. And like that, we’re breathing the same air again.
I rub my hand up her back, her braid under my palm, and her fingers curl into the front of my shirt.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For fighting for me.”
“I'll always fight for you.”
She looks up then, her mouth parted and eyes dark. It would be so easy to kiss her.
I choose not to, because I want her to know this isn't about sex. My thumb brushes her bottom lip like a promise.
“I thought I lost you today,” I admit.
“I thought I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t.”
“I could still,” she whispers. "I seem to be good at pushing you away when we are getting somewhere.
