“Ellie?” I put my hand on nape of her neck and rub my thumb back and forth over her skin. “You don’t like it?” I frown disappointed.
Like she snaps out of a trance she looks up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I can’t tell if they’re happy or sad, but by the looks of it, it may be the latter.
“Oh no,” she sniffles. “I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Then what’s wrong?” I hear the distress in my own voice.
“Nothing. Everything,” she contradicts herself.
“Well, which is it?” I search her face. “Baby, you can talk to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out.
“For what?” My heart stops.
“I keep trying to convince myself I’m stronger than what happened, but I just keep getting sucked down. It’s like I can’t breathe and I can’t fight.” She starts to cry. I pull her against me and let her sob into my chest. “I don’t want to be broken, but I think that I am.”
Thank god, finally she speaks!
I stroke her hair and hold her close.
“Ellie, if there’s one thing I’ve learned being with you, things that are broken can always be fixed. They can be made stronger. You make me stronger, and I’m the most broken person I know.”
She lifts her head and looks at me with soaking wet eyes.
“How am I going to get stronger?”
I smile down at her. “You’re going to fight. And I’m going to help you. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s fight.”
I hug her and she squeaks in pain, but she holds on to me, inhaling me like I’m air, like I’m the oxygen she needs to breathe.” Use me, Ellie. I told you before—get mad, scream, hit me, beat me, torture me if you want. I’ll endure it all if it will help you get better.”
She sighs heavily, “I think all I really need is for you to lay with me.”
I chuckle. That’s exactly what she said to me the first night in Bora Bora. The same words that opened the doorway for our relationship to heal. I’m hopeful for the first time in over a week.
“Whatever you need, Ellie.” I reassure her.
“I have exactly what I need.” She draws in a small shaky breath and gazes up at me. “You.”
One year later
“TIME TO WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD!”Tara jumps on me.
“Umph.” I jolt awake.
“Someone has to get beautiful for her wedding day,” she sings, her blue eyes bright, platinum-blonde hair even brighter. She used to wake me up the same way when we were kids.
“Nice to see nothing has changed.” I try to push her off me.
“You missed me, admit.”
“I’ll admit I missed pulling your hair when you annoyed me.” I yank on her long strands.
“Ouch!” she laughs.
“Serves you right! Disturbing the bride’s beauty sleep.”
“You’re going to need way more than eight hours to help you with your beauty.”
