“Well…” I pause, letting myself really consider the answer. “Not really. Abby, sometimes.”
“I don’t mean childcare, Chloe. I’m asking about people going out of their way for you. You act like you have to apologize for taking up space.” Once again, there’s not an ounce of judgment on his face or in his voice. And I shiver when he tucks a stray hand behind my ear. “You act like it’s an inconvenience tocareabout you.”
Maybe because I’ve always felt like an inconvenience. Like I took up the wrong amount of space. Words leave marks, and my ex branded me.
It’s embarrassing how easily he sees this.
I don’t try to be this way, and it’s certainly not how I want to be. But I’ve fought to get where I am, tooth and nail, despite being tossed aside like a bad fashion choice.
It irks me that I let someone who made it clear a long time ago that I didn’t matter dictate how I perceive myself. He’s the only one who ever made me feel like I need something to prove.
My parents can be overprotective, but they’ve never made me feel like I can’t handle my own life. They just don’t want me tohaveto. They’re from a generation where family takes care of family.
But I want to stand on my own. I need to.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”
“That right there.” He reaches for my hand, holding it like this is something we do all the time. His thumb toys with my rings. “You’re apologizing when you haven’t even done anything wrong.”
I almost apologize again.
His light, careful touch sends a wave of tiny explosions through my body as he continues.
“You’re my wife now,” he says, quiet but sure, “And my wife is the light of this home. No apologies. No excuses. You’re not a burden to anyone here—you’re ajoy. You matter.”
Those words again.
His thumb stills, and I look up to find him watching me.
“Thank you again for the room,” I whisper. “I’m still sorry for kicking you out of it. It’s like living in a hotel. I’ve never lived anywhere this nice.”
Someday I’ll tell him about the cramped apartments, the occasional rented rooms. And the bouncing back and forth between places to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.
I’m not the girl he dated.
Somehow, I don’t think it would change his mind anyway.
“Thank you for everything you did earlier,” he rasps. “Today is hard. Tomorrow may be harder.”
“It may also surprise you.”
“Maybe.” He nods thoughtfully. “Do you have a few minutes? I thought we might press pause on all the ‘hard’ stuff, and be still.”
I glance at the PJs I set out and the cute holiday romcom I’ve promised Abby I’d read ten times now. It’s a flimsy excuse to say no.
When I look back into his eyes, his serious mood is gone, and there’s a playful look I’ve only seen once since this all started. Which means he’s up to shenanigans.
I don’t know if I have the energy for that after today. But it sure beats the broken man I held in the kitchen a few hours ago.
“Aiden, it’s late…”
“Humor me.” His voice drops. “I want to show you something.”
“Fine,” I say, with more humor than bite. “It’ll all be waiting when I get back.”
He chuckles. “Bundle up.”
“What?” I blanche at him.
