“Okay.” I study him, wondering why I didn’t plan out how to say this to him.I practice ordering fast food before I get to the window, but I didn’t practice telling my husband that I love him?“I love you.”
The words power into the world and then drip one by one to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he says, bringing his hands back to my hips. “What did you say?”
His playfulness is gone, and in its place is a soberness that causes me to still. My breathing’s shallow, and he cocks his head to the side.
“I said,” I say, smiling softly. “I love you, Hartley.”
He swallows, his eyes never leaving mine. I’m not sure if he’s in shock or just doesn’t know what to say.
“I haven’t told you that because I didn’t know how,” I say. “I started to tell you a thousand times, but each time, the words got stuck in my throat. It made me feel like an asshole because you’re so amazing and I couldn’t say it.”
“Mira …”
I touch his lips with my finger. “Let me finish, please.”
He kisses the pad, then wraps his hand around mine, lacing our fingers together.
“This is me. All of me. And I’m giving all of me to you,” I say. “No running. Ever. The only direction I’ll ever run is into your arms.”
He cups my face and brings his mouth to mine. This kiss is different from any kiss before it. It’s not for an audience like at our wedding. It’s not to get to sex like a lot of the time. And it’s not him telling me that he loves me.
It’s him accepting my love.
Tears cloud my eyes when I open them and look at his handsome face.
“Don’t cry,” he says, wiping my eyes with his thumbs.
“They’re happy tears.”
“I still don’t like them.” He kisses my nose. “I’ve waited my whole life to hear you say you love me again. I started to believe that it would never happen.”
“What would you have done if it didn’t?”
He grins. “I’d have loved you anyway.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head between his collar and jaw.
He holds me tight, drawing designs on my back with his fingertip. It’s the balm for my wounds. His touch, his steadiness, slowly mends my heart. And the best part about it is that I don’thave to explain it all to him. He knows. He’s kind of like Lolly in that way. They always know.
Maybe that’s not all that strange. Maybe I just have to trust the people I love a little more.
The house is quiet—something that I’ve had to get used to after the noisy Kentucky apartment. And outside the windows, it’s dark. The quiet would’ve driven me bonkers a few months ago. It would’ve given me too much space to think. But now I understand that just because you can’t hear anything besides the frogs in the distance, that doesn’t mean everything is still. There are memories and laughter trapped in these walls—scents of apple pie and secrets between brothers held in this home. And that’s comforting. Amazing, really. I used to not understand that, but now I do.
I want to go back and spend some time in Lolly’s attic. Maybe even poke around Mom’s room a little bit. But even more, I can’t wait to make memories with Hartley here. In our home.
“Gray and Astrid move back tomorrow,” he says. “I told Gray that I’d come over and help him unload their stuff. You good with that?”
I smile against him. “That’s funny because I told Astrid that I would help her unpack.”
“We’re just one big happy family,” he says, chuckling.
I sit up. “I want to ask you to do two things for me.”
“You can ask me for anything.”
“First, I’d like to frame or do something with the lucky coin and then hang it over our front door.”
