The smell of coffee brewing hits me right before I walk out of Brandon’s room—well, now my room as well—and when I get to the source of the scent, I lean against the doorjamb and watch him work his magic in the kitchen.
“Did you get your fill?” he asks without turning around.
I smile and push off the doorjamb. “Never.”
He slides my coffee over to me, and I gratefully take it with a soft smile as I lean my hip against the counter andwatch him. When I did my first ever full run-through of a song on the piano without tripping over the ivory and black keys, I felt like all of the countless hours, working my fingers to impossible lengths to hit the notes, and enduring the numbness on the bench was worth it. I was so overwhelmed that I felt like I could simultaneously cry and run a marathon. That’s how I feel as I watch Brandon fix our breakfast. Although the tears would be tears of joy. But like the new fracture we’ve caused in our families is worth it to be together.
“What are your plans for New Year's Eve?”
I take a sip of my perfectly done coffee and sigh with bliss. “Well, I work the opening shift, which means we’re mainly prepping for the night crowd.”
“Does it get busy there?” Brandon asks, moving our plated food to the center island.
I kiss him on the cheek before taking a forkful of the cheesy scrambled eggs and humming with delight and smiling at the joy on Brandon’s face. “You’ll have to come during playoffs. That’s a whole different type of busy. New Year's Eve is more classy-busy, if a TapHouse can even be considered classy.”
“Lots of fancy dates?”
“Eh, more like guys trying to get lucky that night by ordering the most expensive meals we have reserved for holidays.”
Brandon laughs at the image and finishes up his breakfast bowl. “Have you seen any proposals?”
“Ugh, too many. Valentine’s Day is the worst when it comes to that. But we did have an impromptu wedding when the couple's venue flooded.”
“You wouldn’t want to be proposed to on that day?” he asks tentatively.
My heart skips at the mere talk of a proposal. “No. I’m more of a sentimental and private person. Sure, big proposals are great—when the other person knows that the answer is a yes. Holidays should be for holidays. Can you imagine someone proposing on a holiday and getting rejected?”
“Fair point,” he says and collects our plates to load into the dishwasher.
The thought of getting married seemed like some unattainable fruit. And after seeing the ups and downs of Liam and Kamryn’s relationship secondhand, I always thought love was meant to be messy and toxic. But being with Brandon, I’ve been fortunate to experience the opposite. I smile more with him than I have in the past two years. The weight of my depression doesn’t cripple me as much as it did a year ago. Of course, I have days when my mood is fully gray and it’s because of my depression that I never thought I’d find someone who accepted that with me.
But Brandon does.
25
BRANDON
“Happy birthday, Em,” I speak into my phone when she picks up.
“Thanks, B.”
“How does it feel? Another year older?” I ask as I look out the window of my office. The gray February skies have taken over Philly. It’s that time of the year when the forecast calls for snow or rain. I’d prefer the snow so I can bury myself in my home office.
I hear the quiet hum of her cat, Biscuit, purring on the other end. “It’s bittersweet.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Every year that I get older is a year further from James. He died at twenty-six, so he’ll forever be frozen in that state.
“I thought getting older would bring more clarity.”
“But…?”
“But I’m just more confused than ever,” she admits with certainty.
“What are you confused about?”
“Everything. It’s hard to imagine that I could be married or have a kid. And, now I’m starting from scratch.”
