I relax into him, resting my head on his chest as his arms engulf me.
“Me, on the other hand,” he says. “Disrespectful since birth, I fear. Something your parents are going to have to get used to.”
A puff of air leaves my mouth, followed by a giggle.
His arms squeeze, light but present, and I melt into them.
“What did they say earlier,” he asks gently. “Give it to me, that I may undo the damage they’ve so carelessly dealt.”
My nose wrinkles. “I really am okay,” I assure him. “I was being a bit dramatic.”
“Feelings are dramatic,” he says. “And regardless of if you’re okayright now, you weren’t when I fetched you from your room, and you won’t be in the future when the hurt worms its way back into your psyche in a low moment. Let me shield you up, my darling wife. It would be my honor.”
Could he be more perfect, actually? I thought I knew the answer, but every moment I’m in his presence, he proves me wrong.
“They’ve been worried about me,” I tell him. “And they’re not wrong to worry, if I’m honest. From their point of view, I left the house in an emotional state, stopped answering my phone, thenpopped back up to tell them I’m halfway across the state and also, by the way, married.” I wince. “They were probably a lot nicer than they should have been.”
His hand splays flat on my lower back, and I focus on it instead of the stinging in my nose.
“As a certified expert on all things Sarelia Elowen Prim, I interpret this to mean that they were worried in a big way and put the full burden of that worry directly on your shoulders. Yes?”
I frown. “The burden of the worrybelongson my shoulders. I’m the one who caused it.”
His fingertips dig into my back, then relax. “No.”
My eyebrows furrow. “No?”
“No. The worry of a parent should not ever fall under the responsibilities of the child. Their emotional regulation isneveryour burden to bear.”
“I’m an adult,” I remind him. “Not a child. And my actions have consequences for more than just me. It was selfish of me to not consider that.”
“I don’t mean child in the sense of youth. I mean it in the relational sense. They are parent, and you are child. There are inherent boundaries within that relationship which dictate that the weight of their negative emotions is their burden to bear, not yours. You are not their friend, or their therapist, or their scapegoat for avoiding the hard work of feeling their feelings. You are their daughter, their child, their gift. And you should be treated as such regardless of how selfish or selfless you’re behaving. And I want to make it abundantly clear that I do not believe that your behaviors can even be neatly tucked away under the umbrella of selfishness. Leaving their home and coming to me is no more selfish than it is disrespectful. Is it worrisome? Yes. Should you be punished for their worry, though? As a grown woman capable of making herown informed decisions? Absolutely not. We can and should appreciate the love and care behind their worry, but it is stilltheirworry, which could be cleared up quite easily by trusting you.”
The beating of my heart thuds in my head as my throat constricts. I force hoarse words through it when I say, “Were you a therapist in a past life or something?”
He snorts. “In this life, sort of. My sole patient is Heidi.”
Ah. “That makes sense. You’re very wise. Shouldn’t let it go to waste.”
His breath ruffles my hair. “I wasn’t always, but I went through a good deal of therapy after leaving my parents’ home. They’re a lot like your parents. They love me, and they want the best for me, but we diverge on what that ‘best’ actually is. I spent my late teens and early twenties learning how to navigate my relationship with them with loveandboundaries.”
“And now you pass on your wisdom to me.”
He kisses the top of my head. “And now I pass on my wisdom to you.”
I listen to his heart beat while I think about all he’s said. Knowing I am an intelligent, responsible, trustworthy adult is one thing. Having someone else confirm it is an entirely different thing—uncomfortable in the good way.
“Why two weeks?” I ask after an eternity or so of inner work on my part and cuddling on Archie’s.
“Hm?”
Scratch that,nappingon Archie’s.
My eyes crinkle. “Why have my parents’ visit in two weeks? Why not sooner so we can get it over with?”
He yawns, pulling me fully on top of him. “We have to get rid of Ted first.”
“Ted?”
