Page 117 of Lucky Laces
And I’m more scared of her reaction in this moment thananyof that.
Because this is important, and it means a lot, and?—
“Honey,” she whispers, striding back out into the hallway.“Come here.”
I just…I can’t make my feet move.
Luckily, she doesn’t force me to.
Instead, she walks over to me, wrapping her hand around mine, and drawing me forward.Drawing me into the kitchen.
Drawing me into the scene I set up.
It has all the usual suspects—candles, the crockpot full of a delicious-smelling meal, a large bouquet of flowers, her favorite dessert from Molly’s in the robin’s egg blue box on the counter.But it’s the board with the printouts I’ve been working with that has my stomach knotting.
Because it’s important she see it.
That she know she helped create it.
A combination of low tech tools—translucent sticky tabs on the paper, a square ruler with a clear window in it, pages printed in special fonts, and high tech—my therapist making a verbal recording of the drills, voiceover of reports.
Put together?
I’m making progress.
That’s the cherry on top of all this.
“Is this—?”she asks.
I nod.“It’s not perfect, and I still have a long way to go.But DeeDee—I can read the reports, I can understand the videos, and I think I can make my way through the drills without faltering.And…hell, I’m actually excited about learning in a way?—”
My voice cracks and her hand tightens around mine.
“In a way I’ve never been before.”I tug, drawing her into the circle of my arms.“Because of you.”
Her exhale is shaky.“You’re the one doing all the work, honey.”
I touch her cheek, hold her gaze, needing her to understand how big this is for me.“Thank you.”
“Baby—”
I press my lips to hers.“Thank you,” I repeat.
Another shaky exhale has my heart squeezing, but my determination to take our evening toward a less emotional direction takes over and I heft her up onto to the counter.
“Now,” I say, handing her the box.“You’re going to eat dessert first while I?—”
“No, honey,” she says, setting the box aside.
I blink.“I know this”—I sweep a hand out—“is a lot, but I just wanted?—”
She opens her legs, wraps them around my hips, pulling me toward her.“I know what you wanted, and I need you to know how much it means to me.”Her eyes go damp.“Sharing that”—a nod to the board—“the candles—and I’m glad to see they’re battery-operated?—”
I touch her cheek.“We live in a fire-prone area, sweetheart?—”
“I know.Same as I know you considered exactly that when you put them out.”I open my mouth, shut it.Because she’s right.And anyway, she’s still talking.“What I’m saying is you care.And—” Her hands settle on my shoulders and she leans in, pressing her forehead against mine.“You think about the small details and you look out for me and your heart is so damned beautiful that seeing these glimpses of it almost hurts, it’s so gorgeous.”
“DeeDee baby?—”
