A man. A flawed man. This man. A man with baggage, a heartbreaking past, and the fear of not being good enough. A man who waits for me to finish cutting my food and orders extra of the dishes I like. A man who holds my hand while I confront my demons, rubbing my back and whispering kind, empowering words in my ear. A man who fights for me, stands up for me, but also backs down when I’m ready to tackle a problem on my own. A man who keeps the coffee cups I deliver, prickly facade cracking with every witty, funny insult I toss his way. A man who has started to smile more, scowl less, and open
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