Page 45 of Husband of the Year
I hang my coat up, place my keys in the ceramic bowl, and pick him up. His little motor immediately revs up as he buries his head in the crook of my neck.
“I missed you too, buddy.” My lips brush the top of his head and I take a seat on the sofa to give him a proper cuddle.
“It’s just us the rest of the weekend.” He flops over, presenting his belly.
“Illona’s with her mother. Olan’s in Chicago. Boys’ weekend.” He slams his head into my lap, and I take my cue and begin petting under his chin.
Glancing around our kitchen and living area, I’m once again reminded of how far I’ve come since meeting Olan. Not just by moving out to the island, but also as a person. My anxiety will never disappear, but I’m learning strategies for managing it. Meditation. Deep breathing. Sometimes meditation feels like my brain’s way of hosting a never-ending infomercial for problems I’d rather ignore, but Olan insists it just takes practice.
Living with Olan has grounded me in a way I never thought possible. His calmness is so infectious it seeps right through my bubble of worry.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I hold Gonzo in place with one hand while retrieving it with the other.
Vincent: How’s bachelor life treating you?
Marvin: Hanging in there. I babysat Maria last night. It was… interesting.
Vincent: I can only imagine the messes.
Marvin: Mostly lots of jumping.
Vincent: Call me if you get bored.
Marvin: Will do. Thanks.
My chest expands with a deep inhale. I’m so grateful for Vincent’s friendship. He’s busy with Kent, Lia, and his LEGO builds—he’s working on a replica of the Sydney Opera House that takes up most of their dining room table—but he always finds time to check in. Truly a sweet friend.
“Well, Gonzo. It’s only eleven, but I say we put on our pajamas and get into bed. Sound good?”
He headbutts my chest, smashing the top of his head into me.
“I thought so.”
With Gonzo cradled in my arms, we head upstairs to start our weekend of cuddling and watching brainless television.
Gaga’s staccato vocals wake me from a deep sleep, and I grab for my phone in a stupor. How long was I out for? Was it fifteen minutes, orthree hours. I’m not really sure. Squinting, my eyes quickly focus on the beautiful photo illuminating the screen. I took it while he wasn’t watching, reading a nonfiction book about the universe. Or the ocean. Something sciency. He was studying a diagram or working out the mysteries of the universe, and the way the sunlight streamed in and hit his face took my breath away.
It’s Olan. Finally.
I prop my pillow and sit up, willing myself awake.
“Olan?”
“There’s my sweet guy.” Olan’s deep tone acts like a shot of mood booster, instantly making my body a smidge lighter. “I’ve missed your voice. And you.”
“Olan. I miss you too. So much.” I try my hardest to sound alert and not like I’ve just been woken from a twenty-year slumber.
“Were you asleep?”
And I’ve failed miserably.
“Just a catnap. Literally. Gonzo insisted.” Hearing his name, Gonzo crawls onto my lap and nudges my fingers, holding the phone. “He misses you too.”
“Please give him a big kiss on the head from me.”
I crane my neck, holding Gonzo in place with my free hand, and smother the top of his head with my lips.
“There. Done. How are things there?” It takes every ounce of restraint to not scream,And when are you coming home?
