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It was that night, with Lo sprawled half-asleep in his bed, that I asked him if he was a virgin. I wanted him to tell me no. To ease my shame. “I’m waiting,” he mumbled sleepily. My eyebrows furrowed. “For marriage?” But he fell asleep before he could answer, but I think I knew it anyway. He was waiting for me.
“I’m remarrying you, Lil. Fuck, I’d remarry you a hundred times until it stuck.” I pinch my eyes again. “Yeah?” “Yeah.”
“You don’t make me miserable. You make me want to live. And I want to live with you.”
“He’s one of my triggers to drink, but I didn’t need rehab to figure that out.” My chest constricts. “Am I…” What if I’m a trigger. Oh God. “No, Lil,” he tells me with a short laugh. “You’re the opposite. You’re my stability…my home.”
“I love you,” he says again, “and no other man will ever say those words and mean them the way I do.”
Pain, happiness, joy and hurt ricochet from each path taken and from each memory uncovered. One decision can change my life forever.
