I turned in his arms, searching his face. “Gunnar, what are we doing? I mean, us. Here. How do we navigate this?”
His expression softened. “Well, you’re my love, and I’m yours, so we’ll figure out what we want that to be. One day at a time, Z.”
His words were supposed to soothe me, but they didn’t. One day at a time was fine for a vacation fling. Now I fixated on him calling me his love, not his partner or girlfriend. Just love. What did that mean? What did I mean to him? I tried to remember all the things we’d said to each other in Sweden, but now that hardly seemed real.
Still, instead of asking him, I tried to sort it out on my own. Who I was…what I was… But my mind grew more tangled, and I battled back tears. Maybe returning to Houston was a mistake.
It was a mistake. I didn’t want to be here, not even for the Gunnar the Goalie event I’d been instrumental in setting up. None of this mattered, not really.
I wanted to be back in our bubble in Sweden, where none of this world could touch us.
Gunnar
Later that evening, Zaila curled into the corner of my couch. The loose sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt slipped off her shoulder as she brought her knees to her chest. In that moment, she appeared fragile. I hadn’t pushed her to talk on the drive back from the airport, but I disliked the shadows forming under her eyes, the way she stared into the middle distance like she was next to her mother’s grave again.
Returning to Houston had been a mistake. Zaila needed more time. Or maybe I’d just needed more time with her.
“You ate almost nothing at dinner,” I said as I settled on the cushion next to her.
“I wasn’t hungry,” she murmured.
“I know. I’ve watched you pick at your meals for days, remember?” I slid closer to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and tucking her against my side, my cheek resting on the crown of her head. “You don’t have to be okay, Zaila. Not with me.”
Her throat worked. “Everyone keeps telling me to be strong, that I am strong. That life will even out and go back to normal.”
“That’s last part is bull.” My voice was sharp, but I kept my touch gentle as I rubbed my thumb along the soft skin of her neck. “You don’t have to be anything you’re not ready to be. And It’s okay if it takes you months to be ready to be anything but here.”
For a moment, she didn’t respond, and then the dam broke as sobs lifted her shoulders and tears wet my shirt.
“She was all I had,” Zaila whispered. “And now she’s gone, and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Work feels pointless. I feel pointless. Just…flapping in the wind. I’m alone, Gunnar. It’s so scary.”
As I held her, I thought of Karl, of the days after the accident when I’d walked around like a ghost in my own skin. “I remember that feeling,” I told her. “You probably always will, too. But, you, Zaila Monroe, are not pointless. You make people’s lives brighter every day. Mine included. Even while you’re grieving your parents, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. I don’t think you understand how much you matter to me.”
Her head jerked up, eyes wide and wet. “Oh. Oh, that’s so… You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”
I sighed. “When Karl died, I shut down. I didn’t let anyone in. It took years—meeting you even—to help me remember how to breathe. How to smile. To tell those dumb, horrible jokes that make me laugh even as my throat tightens because I’ll always miss him. But it’s okay now, because those corny one-liners make you smile.”
I pulled her into my chest as her tears fell again. We sat for a long time, the only sound the hum of the fridge and her quiet sniffles. Lifting her head, her eyes red-rimmed but with fewer shadows, she finally whispered, “Do you ever think about what comes next? Not just work. I mean us.”
I stilled. No one asked me questions like that. I’d been so careful not to jinx whatever this was, not to name it too soon. “Yes,” I admitted. “I do. Every day. I thought I’d made that clear when I told you I was going to announce our relationship.”
She tilted her head back to search my face. “And you’re still going to do that?”
“Absolutely.”
“This house,” she whispered. “Does it ever feel like…ours?”
The question was so quiet I almost missed it. I cupped her face. “It could be. If you want it to be. Or I’ll buy you another. Something you can enjoy decorating or renovating—make it your own.”
Her breath hitched. “You’d do that for me?”
I skimmed my palm over her head, enjoying the silkiness of her tresses. “I’d do just about anything for you.”
She straddled my lap. “Take me upstairs. To bed.”
“Are you sure that’s what you need?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “And what I want. I need to feel alive, in this moment.” She bit her lip, her dark brows tugging over her nose. “When you love me, it’s like…like we’re creating connections, these lines that hold us together. I…I love being tethered to you, Gunnar.”
