Page 63 of Yours, Now and Always
He says this gently. My demon brain hears it like a war cry.
I lift my brows. Say nothing. Just stare.
Gage exhales.
“This is how divorce starts,” I say solemnly.
He crosses the room, cups my jaw, and kisses me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched. Like he’d still die for me even while I’m pelting him with outrageous accusations.
“You’re not divorcing me today,” he says when he’s finished with my mouth.
“You don’t know that. Imight.”
“Fine.” His fingers tighten on my chin. His eyes lock on mine, dark and determined. “Then I’ll win you back. With the right fucking milk. And every goddamn thing you ever need.”
I hate him.
God, I love him.
And that’s the problem.
Because I’m sweaty, cramping, caffeine-deprived, one rogue pair of underwear away from a breakdown, and he’s just...standing there being perfect. Completely unfazed by the nuclear-level energy I’m radiating.
I don’t actually want him to snap. I don’t want him to fight with me.
But some traitorous part of me wishes he’d give mesomething—an eye roll, a sigh, a crack in that calm—just enough to make this feel less one-sided. To make me feel like I’m not the only one being pulled under by this feeling.
But no. He’s here, doing everything right, making it impossible to keep picking a fight IknowI don’t actually want.
I blow out a breath. “You’re really annoying, you know that.”
His mouth curves. Then he brushes his lips over mine one last time before going back to packing his stuff. And I turn back to the drawer, still hunting for underwear I probably hallucinated packing in the first place.
I’m grateful for the distraction when my phone rings a few moments later, until I see the name on the screen.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, already bracing for impact.
“Darling,” she begins, all efficiency. “Your father and I are running late. We’d hoped to be there by eleven, but something came up that couldn’t be avoided.”
My stomach sinks.
Something else took priority. On their daughter’s wedding day. I shouldn’t be surprised, because why would today be different to any other time in my life.
“How late?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
She doesn’t answer that. Just breezes right past it. “Oh, we’ll be there before the ceremony starts. Don’t worry about that.”
That’s not what I asked. But I don’t push.
I could. I’m allowed. But I’ve lived a lifetime in that gap between what I needed and what I got and learned at an early age not to push. And some patterns don’t change easily. Besides, pushing won’t change the outcome. They’ll arrive when they arrive. And I’m not here to beg.
“Okay. We’ll see you when you get here.”
I hang up and lower the phone slowly, my chest tight.
It stings. Even now, after all the therapy and the rewiring and the good days and the boundaries. It still fucking stings.
Gage watches me for maybe half a second before he moves. He rounds the bed and stops in front of me. “They’re running late,” he says quietly, looking for confirmation.
