Bryce listened as the water started running. The sound pulled him straight back to that morning in Vegas—the moment he realized they were married. For a second, he stood frozen in the memory, the weight of it settling over him. Would it always be like this? Would he always flash back to that morning whenever he heard her in the shower? He shook the thought away and strode into the kitchen, setting up a pot of coffee.
As the machine gurgled to life, he wandered into the living room, charmed by how cozy it felt. The exterior of Beth’s apartment building might have been outdated and a little rough around the edges, but inside, it was warm, welcoming—full ofher personal touches. The walls were lined with photos, little glimpses of her life frozen in time. He took his time studying them, noticing how, even in the candid shots, there was something peaceful about her. She never sought attention, never tried to stand out, yet she always did.
His eyes landed on the centerpiece above the couch—a large photo board filled with snapshots haphazardly pinned in place. Dozens of memories layered over one another. Grinning, Bryce pulled his wallet from his pocket and slid out a small photo. He hesitated for only a second before tucking it in the board.
It was a photo from their wedding night.
The ceremony itself was still a blur—too much alcohol—but there were pieces of the night he remembered clearly. Their walk back to the hotel. Beth practically buzzing with excitement when she saw the Bellagio Fountain. She had spun in circles, laughing, arms outstretched as if she could take in the whole moment and hold onto it forever. Then she danced—really danced—on her toes, moving like a ballerina graceful, free, joyful. Surprisingly skilled.
Bryce had tried to take a selfie with her twirling behind him, but someone must have taken pity on him because a stranger offered to take their picture instead. Looking back, it had probably been a stupid idea to hand his phone to someone on the Strip, but the risk had paid off. He ended up with some amazing photos of the night.
He kept two printed photos in his wallet. One—the one he had just pinned up—captured Beth mid-spin, pure happiness lighting up her face. The other was his favorite. Her in his arms, eyes bright, her guard completely down. As for him—he looked like a man in love.
The realization settled over him like a slow-moving tide.
Beth always seemed cautious, even in moments of happiness, like she was afraid to lose control.
Sure, she laughed, she had fun, but there was always something she held back, like a part of her never fully relaxed. He didn’t know if it was just with him or with everyone. Seeing her with her family and with Kim told him it was with everyone except her people. He prayed that one day, she would let the walls fall away—not because of alcohol, but because she trusted him enough to be completely herself.
His gaze drifted around the room again. Soft blankets were neatly folded on the overstuffed couch. A crocheted throw covered one of the armchairs. It was the opposite of his sleek, modern loft. He wondered what Beth would do with his place if she ever moved in. He wanted to see that—to watch her infiltrate his home the way she was infiltrating his heart.
After last weekend, after the conversations and the days spent with her family and at her church, he thought their relationship had turned a corner. He assumed things would naturally progress, but the week had slipped through his fingers. Between long shifts, crazy schedules, and exhaustion, their marriage had been put on the back burner. He had made a pointto call or text her every day, checking in. Beth still wasn’t comfortable initiating contact.
He noticed it in small ways.
Last Sunday, when he picked her up for church, Lynn had tagged along, claiming she’d missed out on getting to be the annoying little sister during Beth’s dating years because ‘Beth had been such a Sister Maria.’ Lynn had a knack for twisting iconic characters and famous names into insults, a self-proclaimed “equal-opportunity mocker.” Bryce had to admit, she was good at it.
The scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen, but exhaustion was already weighing him down. He ran a hand along the back of the couch, then let himself sink into it.
For a moment, he let himself remember what it felt like to hold Beth today. It hadn’t been the moment he imagined—an exhausted, emotional embrace in the middle of a hectic day—but it had been real. The most physical contact they’d had since Vegas. He would take it.
His eyelids grew heavy.
The coffee finished brewing, but Bryce never made it back to the kitchen. He was already asleep.
Beth felt a hundred times better after her shower, but she still opted for pajamas. Following the smell of coffee, she steppedinto the kitchen and paused when she didn’t see Bryce anywhere.
“He left,” she sighed, her heart sinking. She hadn’t exactly made him feel welcome.
“At least he left coffee. Silver linings.”
She took a moment to look for a coffee mug that matched her mood: ‘The Depths of Despair.’
She selected the Anne Shirley mug she brought back as a souvenir from Prince Edward Island.
Sipping as she walked into the living room, she stopped short, almost spilling her coffee.
There he was.
All six-foot-two of him, stretched out on her too-small couch, fast asleep.
A smile tugged at her lips as she absently touched the bandage along her hairline.
Instead of waking him, she turned back to her room, grabbed her Bible and notebook, and settled into the chair across from him. She loved every moment of doing her Bible study across from her napping husband.
It was the kind of quiet, intimate moment she had always longed for.
The kind that made her feel like a wife.
