It feels like we’ve been kissing for at least a few lifetimes at this point, maybe longer, but I have to get home.
“Come back to my house. I need to show you something.”
The last few days I’ve gone back and forth on how to show Tyler the family portrait I painted, and today feels like the right time. He’s handed over so much of his heart. Now he deserves to see a glimpse into mine. How, even when I was pushing, I still clung to him with both hands.
We drive separately to my house, and each time we’re at a stop sign, I wave at him from my rearview mirror and blow him a kiss. I’m being absolutely ridiculous and I don’t even care. Tyler loves me and he’s not going anywhere. And what’s even better? I believe it. That right there is the best part of all of this.
He parks beside me in the driveway, and when he gets to me, we lace our fingers together and walk into my house just like that. Abby’s on the couch and she turns when we enter, looking pleased as punch when her eyes land on our locked hands.
Inside, we kick off our shoes and out of nowhere I'm overcome with frisson, emotion so powerful like champagne, bubbling up. My breaths come quick and a shiver races down my spine. Suddenly I know why I’ve focused so much on his shoes with ours.
“Your shoes…” I mumble, letting my words trail off.
Tyler looks from me to our shoes, puzzled.
“All this time, when I’ve seen your shoes here, I’ve had some unnamable feeling. It was the shoes.”
“Jo, I still don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Looking up at him, not caring if Abby can hear us or not, my words pour out, from my heart to his ears.
“There’s four pairs now. And they’re all a little scuffed, a little lived in. Some are a little worse for wear. But they’re lined up side by side.”
Dawning realization crosses Tyler’s face, and I forge on.
“All I want is for someone to hold space for my family, not with grand gestures or anything big. But joining in with our mess, right here at the threshold. Smack dab in the middle of our beautiful, messy life. Right here with us.”
Abby sits watching the whole thing, and filled with emotion and punch drunk in love, I yell for Jay to join us in the living room.
“Jaybird, I need you!”
Seconds later he comes bounding into the room, and I pull everyone in for a group hug. Jay still stinks, and he tries to wrangle free, but I hold tight to my little family, knowing the four of us will be alright.
When I finally let go, I lead Tyler to my art room, where the painting still sits right where I left it. The day after I painted it, I did turn it backward in case the kids got nosy and poked around. Before I turn it for him to see, I explain how it came to be.
“Even when I was pushing you away, I was still consumed by you. One night I sat here, not even aware of what I was painting. I let my hands lead the way like they knew what my heart wanted. When I finished, I stepped back to take a look, and seeing this gutted me, Tyler. Because deep down I knew I was wrong. You belonged right here with us.”
I turn the painting and take a step back, standing beside Tyler while he surveys my work. He’s quiet for so long, I think he might hate it, but then I hear a sound I haven’t yet heard fromhim. He’s crying. I look up to see tears falling and I wrap my arms around him, letting him cry into my hair.
“Thank you for this, Jo. I—” His voice breaks. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
We hold on tight to one another until Jay’s voice drifts from his room.
“Tyler, come here! I got a new skin for my character.”
Before Tyler joins him, he places the sweetest of kisses to my lips and whispers, “I love you.”
Some might find our daily routine boring, like Groundhog Day repeating itself, but I find the rhythm of it soothing. My life isn’t glamorous, but it’s real. And with Tyler here to bear witness to it, everything feels right.
After dinner, when it’s just Tyler and me in the kitchen and I’m standing with my back to him at the sink, I think back to our night together all those years ago and smile to myself. What a long arduous road it was finding our way back to each other.
“Tyler?”
“Hmm?” he hums.
“Never have I ever wanted to be someone’s wife more than yours.”
I turn to face him, and he’s wearing a look of awe. He studies me, at length.
