When did the voice in my head get softer?
When did it stop barking at me?
When did I stop believing it altogether?
I didn't even notice it fading.
I didn't even noticemecoming back.
A tear slips out before I can stop it.
"Oh..." I whisper again, but this time it's full of breath and shock and something like joy. "Zach... I didn't even realize."
He pulls me back into his arms, holding me so tightly it almost hurts—but in the best, safest way.
"That's why I'm proud," he murmurs into my hair. "Because you didn't have to fight with yourself to buy a damn dessert. You just let yourself have something you wanted."
His arms squeeze around me.
"And baby... that's huge."
I close my eyes, swallow the ache in my chest, and let myself melt into him.
Because for the first time in a long time...
I'm proud of me, too.
A laugh-sob slips out of me, messy and breathy, and before I know it I'm smiling through the tears gathering in my lashes.
God, it's probably a tiny thing to anyone else.
But to me? To him?
Tous?
It's huge.
I sniff hard, wipe under my eye, and mumble into his chest, "It's just too bad we can't eat it now." My voice comes out watery and small. "It was supposed to be comfort food... to cheer you up."
Zach pulls back just enough to see my face—his hands still warm and steady on my waist. His eyes soften in that way he only ever looks at me.
"I already got all the comfort I need," he says quietly, like it's the easiest truth in the world.
My heart does a ridiculous flip.
He doesn't look at the melted Italian ice. He looksright at me.
Like I'm the thing that matters. Like I'm the thing that helped him breathe again.
Heat crawls up my cheeks. I try to play it off, peeking up at him through my lashes.
"Well... good. Make the most of your comfort then."
His lips twitch—then he leans in and kisses me.
It starts soft. Just a gentle press of warm lips and shaky breath. But then I kiss him back—arms sliding around his neck—and it's like something breaks open between us.
The kiss deepens, slow but hungry, like he's pouring every ounce of grief and relief and gratitude into me.
