Here to Stay by Suanne Laqueur

stared up at the tall trees, and before his eyes they morphed into the image of the cathedral he always imagined in his heart. The structure of his love, now covered in scaffolding, yet beneath it he could see arches and scrolls and stained glass. A restoration in progress. A lifetime project.
    What are you going to do? Tear it down? Or build it in? The night you came running back to her, you told her the past was going to be part of it all. You weren’t going to pretend it never happened.
    He exhaled, running his hands through his hair. “I know.”
    She made peace with the past. Including David. She finished that business. You’re just starting. So turn around. Go back. Explain the letter made you emotional. The old you ran off to have a fit in the woods. The new you is coming back to have a conversation. This is a huge improvement, dude.
    “Thank you.”
    She loves you.
    “She fucked up and she loves me.”
    You fucked up, too, and you can’t breathe without her.
    He took his phone out and texted her: I went a little further than I expected. I’m turning around now.
    K, she replied.
    He stared at the single, terse letter. Waited for more but she had none.
    I love you, he typed with cold, cautious fingers.
    Just come home.
    He shook his head. “Might be a loud conversation, dude,” he said. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and took off running through the woods.

“I FULLY APPRECIATE HOW that letter could have thrown you off,” Daisy said. “I completely understand you needing to step out and collect your thoughts. And you may joke about leaving your keys on the piano, but those keys fucking matter to me. Those keys tell me you’re coming back.”
    “I know and—“
    “No. You don’t know. You don’t know what I went through when—“
    “I see the scars of what you went through every damn day,” he said. “I’ve counted them. I can find them in my sleep. Every time I look at your body I’m reminded of what I did. Maybe I don’t know everything about what you went through, but I don’t know nothing.”
    The stove hissed like an angry cat as the soup boiled up and bubbled over the edge of the pot. Daisy seized a dishtowel and dragged the pan off the burner, muttering, “And now my fucking soup is burning.”
    Reaching for a wooden spoon, she tipped the crock of utensils over. Erik righted it just in time. He crouched to pick up spatulas and spoons while his back molars ground together.
    “I’m getting chilled off,” he said. “Can I jump in the shower five minutes?”
    “No,” she said.
    “Jesus Christ, Dais.”
    “I don’t like when you disappear,” she said, banging the spoon on the rim of the pot. “It upsets me.”
    “I’m not disappearing, I’m going upstairs,”
    “Hey,” she cried, pointing the spoon at him like she was going to skewer him with it. “You fucking know what I mean. And if you say you know what I went through then you know why I’m in the middle of an anxiety attack right now and I need to talk to you.” She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes and drew a breath. “I need you right now.”
    “Okay, calm down,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t tell me to calm down like I’m some overwrought bimbo looking for attention.”
    He took a breath of his own. “I’m sorry,” he said again, slower. “What can I do? What’s making you anxious?”
    Her shoulders shivered. “It’s a kneejerk reaction. I admit it’s not rational but it’s there. You deserted me. With good reason—I cheated on you, I disappointed you, I let you down. And you disappeared. Now, tonight, you pretended you weren’t upset by David’s letter when clearly you were. You slammed out of here in a moody sulk and it set me off.”
    “I told you as I was going what I was doing. What was in my head or not in my head. I went for a run and then turned around. Last time I left for twelve years. This time I left for an hour. Can I get a little credit here?”
    A smile made