I nodded slowly. “You know… I don’t think I’ve ever had a true partner.”
“That doesn’t surprise me with your toad of a husband,” he said, laughing.
“Right?”
“It’s funny because in the first part of the marriage, I thought I did. But looking back…” I shook my head. “I was always compensating and explaining, and apologizing for taking up space when it didn’t align with his needs. I wouldn’t even be able to count the times that I felt an overwhelming need to make myself smaller so he could shine.”
“That’s not partnership,” he said quietly. “That’s the exact opposite.”
“I know,” I said. “I didn’t then.”
He brushed his hand along mine. “You don’t apologize now.”
I smiled faintly. “I’ve noticed that about myself.”
“And you don’t shrink,” he added. “And I hope you never do.”
“I think since I’ve gotten older, I realized that it’s okay to be good at things and it’s okay to be a little rusty. I don’t need to be perfect. I just need to be…”
“You’re perfectly imperfect to me. You know when to decide, when to listen, and you act.”
“If that’s the sense you’ve been getting, that’s good because I’ve been making it up as I go.”
“Everyone is,” he said. “The difference is that you don’t pretend otherwise.”
I laughed softly. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
“It is to me,” he replied.
I glanced up, caught the look in his eyes, and felt that familiar warmth spread through my chest again.
“You’re trouble,” I said lightly.
He grinned. “I’ve been told.”
“And you’re enjoying this far too much,” I added.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe I just like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Here,” he said simply. “Present. Not bracing for impact.”
“That’s dangerous,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”
I bumped his shoulder lightly. “Don’t get cocky.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, then added softly, “Not with you.”
“I don’t know what comes next.”
He nodded. “Neither do I.”
“But,” I continued, “I know that when you’re around, it feels… steadier.”
“That’s not an accident.”
