Until he didn’t feel it hardly at all anymore.
Until he could look at a photo of his father and only feel grief rather than guilt.
Until he stopped worrying so much about dying.
Three months and twelve days ago, he ripped that dark drawing of the specter of his pain out of his sketchbook and burned it.
When he did, he felt lighter than he had in years.
As soon as the edges of the paper curled into ash, he pulled out his phone and booked two first-class international plane tickets in the spring.
It was time.
Audrey was hisbest friend.
She was more than the love of his life.
She was more than his soulmate.
She was his own heart, plucked straight through his rib cage and made flesh. More than his better half, she was his better whole. She was his family, and he was hers.
And he wanted to make an even larger one with her.
It was two months since he started wondering what it might be like if maybe the house wasn’t quite so quiet anymore. What it might be like if they added someone else to the mix.
It was two months since he wondered what Audrey thought about starting a family. He knew she wanted kids—they’d talked about it, but only in the abstract, the theoretical. Now he wondered about the practical. Maybe biological. Maybe adopted. It didn’t matter.
He could wait.
But he wondered.
And first things first:
He wanted it official.
It was one day since they’d left New York. Audrey came downstairs yesterday morning at 8:30 like she always did on weekdays, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Theo’s cheek while he made her lunch before she headed over to the espresso machine.
He loved cooking for her. Lately, he’d been making little Japanese-inspired bento boxes. He especially liked making those because they required knife skills—and his hand hardly shook at all these days. Audrey was the envy of her coworkers for them, especially for the pictures he drew and the notes he wrote on her napkins.
What he put on there was always a surprise.
It wasn’t always for other eyes.
Theo liked the idea of being a househusband. It suited him. He’d much rather stay home and work in his studio than work somewhere else with other people, and he liked taking care of his wi—girlfriend.
…girlfriend.
That word was too small for what they had.
It didn’t fit anymore.
Time for a change.
He looked up from the sandwich he was cutting and glanced over his shoulder. “Everyone knows you’re leaving early today, right? Wesley and I will be there in the Bentley at three.”
The espresso machine whirred, and he watched quietly while Audrey frothed the milk and rotated her wrist, expertly mixing it into the crema of both of their flat whites, floating a quick little concentric pattern in the foam. She swept the last of the milk through the middle of it and flicked her wrist with a flourish at the end, transforming the foam of his into a series of layered hearts before setting it down next to him. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head in thanks.
“How could I forget? I’ve beendyingto leave all week.” Then, a scowl. “I can’t believe you won’t tell me where we’re going. I had to get apassport, but you won’t tell me for which continent?! And you won’t even let me pack my own suitcase? How long are you going to keep me in the dark?”
