Page 112 of Wild Then Wed
“What about you?” she asks, her eyes flicking up to mine. “Have you ever been in love?”
The piece of cheesecake I just swallowed suddenly feels a hell of a lot bigger on the way down.
I look away for a second. Not because I’m hiding—just…trying to get my footing. There’s always a pause before I talkabout her. Some internal shift. The way your body braces right before it remembers how much something used to hurt.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I have.”
Wren doesn’t say anything. She’s good at that. Not rushing people. Letting silence do what it needs to.
She tips her head slightly. “What’s it like? Being in love?”
“I think being in love feels like…” I pause and frown a little, lost in thought. “You know when you’re half-asleep and your body just knows the person next to you is safe? Like, before your brain even catches up, you’ve already relaxed a little?”
She looks over at me, but I’m not really waiting for a response.
“It’s that. But also…wanting to know how they take their eggs. And what songs they skip on the radio. And the weird stuff, like how they react when they lose their keys or how they say goodbye when they’re in a rush.”
She stays quiet, which makes it easier to keep going.
“It’s wanting to know what their Tuesday looked like,” I say. “Not because it’s anything special. Just because it’s theirs. It’s when you’re with them and everything feels warmer and closer and somehow…brighter? But also, if they’re not around, you start missing them in a really specific way.”
I shrug. “It’s wanting to see all of it, I guess. The nice parts and the messy ones. Not because you’re trying to fix them or anything. Just because…you don’t want to miss it.”
She’s quiet, still. So I keep going.
“And it’s also terrifying,” I add. “Because once you’ve had that—once you’ve seen how full life can feel with someone—you know exactly what it would cost you to lose it.”
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move.
“That’s what love felt like to me,” I say. “Big. Quiet. Like coming home in the dark and someone’s already left a light on for you.”
Wren swallows slowly, her fork still hovering near her plate. Her voice is quieter when it comes out. “That sounds really…beautiful.”
I glance at her. “It is.”
I shift a little, just enough to be a little closer to her. “Look, I may not be an expert when it comes to my future wife just yet…” —that earns a quick smile from her— “…but I know this: one day, you’re gonna find someone who’s worth the risk. And when you do, you’re not gonna hold back.”
She tilts her head, watching me.
“Because it’s not who you are. You don’t do anything halfway,” I say. “You feel everything at its fullest, even when you try not to. And when it’s the right person? You’ll love them like hell, Wren.”
She smiles again. Just a little. “Maybe.”
I look at her. Really look.
She doesn’t look away.
Her eyes are the same crystal blue—sharp and bright and deep. Ringed in indigo, like someone outlined them in ink. There’s a whole world in them. One she probably doesn’t let many people in to see.
And her freckles…Jesus. They’re everywhere. Across her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. A map. I wonder how many there are. Probably too many to count.
I want to try anyway.
Her cardigan has slipped off one shoulder, low and casual, like it does that on its own without her noticing. Her collarbone angles sharply beneath her skin, delicate in a way that makes me feel everything too much. Her neck—long, pale, exposed in the flicker of firelight—pulls my gaze without permission.
There’s a current between us now. Thick and still. Not loud.
But real. Heavy.
