"Every time. You should write something.”
“I wrote that.”
“I mean more. Like a book.”
I scrunched my nose at him. “That’s a lot. I don’t know.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Umm, I could write something and it sucks and everyone hates it.” He chuckled, and I frowned at him. ‘That’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing because you’re right. I’m laughing because it’s cute you doubt yourself when you’ve only ever been great.”
I smothered a smile as my heart filled with warmth. “You have to say that. You’re my husband.”
“You should believe me. You’re my wife.” I pursed my lips in a smile as I locked my hands behind his neck. He brought his face close to mine. “And I’vealwaysbeen right.” I laughed at that. His soft lips pressed against mine and my heart lit up.
“You could do it, Syd,” he breathed. “I have no doubt in my mind.”
And he didn’t, did he?
E always believed in me. He always believed inus. He knew we’d be here while I spent seven years avoiding my heart, too afraid of what would happen if I gave it away, ignoring the fact that I already had. He knew I was too scared to lose the only other person I’d ever needed in life if it all came crashing down, as I believed it would—because it was all I’d ever seen.
He knew I had convinced myself our love wasn’t real. That it was just lust. Just the call of the forbidden fruit. And he knew I thought it was the one thing that would drag medown and ruin me if I let it. So, I told myself I couldn’t give in.
But it wasn’t what would ruin me. It was what would give me life.
And I would have seen it sooner if I hadn’t taken all the wrong roads.
Some of these events could have made me bitter—could have madehimbitter. But they didn’t. And really, they shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be mad at the roads that led you where you were meant to be. Some roads you don’t see because you can’t yet. They’re hidden behind the brush—the muck and mire of the life you’re meant to leave. Some you see and don’t take, because the fear of going down the road less traveled is too great a risk to take. And some roads you get completely lost on—you don’t recognize anything, your compass breaks, and even home becomes a distant memory.
But that’s the journey.
It’s all part of the beautiful, crazy, gut-punch, gut-wrenching, twisted story you were meant to write. It’s everything to lose and nothing to risk. And it’s always worth the fall.
This life—this love—it was never in the cards for me. Not the way I saw life, at least. At best, I was supposed to become a teenage single mother, struggling and miserable as she blamed her hard life on everyone but herself. A “victim of circumstance,” just like my mother claimed to be. That was what I knew. That’s what I expected. That’s what I thought would be my future, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. It’s why I worked so hard to make the perfect life I knew nothing about. To find the perfect guy and build theperfect world. To create a version of happiness that was safe enough to believe in. Safe enough not to get hurt by.
But E saw something different in me. He saw all I was before I knew I was anything at all. And he never let it go.
When he saw me, he saw his future. His wife. The mother of his children. He saw a girl worth loving, not discarding for not being good enough. I never had to be anyone else when I was with E. He saw everything in me and loved me for all of it. He saw all my flaws, my sharp tongue and witty sarcasm and thought I was brilliant and strong, not bitchy or masculine.
When he saw me, he saw something precious to cherish, to love, and hold forever. He saw all the things in me I never saw in myself, and the way he loved me—it was everything I always needed. It was the freedom to sail away into the happiness I had always been meant for, and never would have known without him.
E kept up his encouragement to write something more, and his words played over and over in my head like a new favorite song when you’re trying to learn the lyrics. When I slept, they were in my dreams. When I woke, they were my first thought. When I was cutting our daughter’s sandwich into four perfectly sized triangles, they were the tune I hummed.
It took me weeks to gain the courage to dust off my old MacBook. And once I did, I spent three more weeks stealing glances at it as I walked past day after day.
E caught me leaning against the island one morning, staring longingly at the old machine. He wrapped his arms around me, his lips kissing my hair, and I closed my eyes and leaned back into his warm, familiar embrace. He kissedmy neck and then my cheek before his mouth came to my ear.
“You can keep staring at it all you want, but the words are in here.” He pointed at my chest.
I turned, looking up at him, and he took me by the chin and kissed my lips softly. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and he kissed me again. “I love you.”
“I loveyou,” I replied, stealing one more kiss.
“Have a good day!” I yelled as he walked out the door. He yelled it back, and then he was gone. It was just me and my thoughts. And an old computer I had long forgotten the feel of.
I paced most of that morning, squeezing in my workout—that didn’t include running—somewhere in between. Then I paced some more.
