reaction.
Ethan’s home was stately with a modern twist. It was different than I imagined it would be. He had a powerful air of confidence about him that I envisioned would carry over into his home. His private space, however, was warm and possibly even family-friendly. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t stop from wondering what it would be like to raise our child in that home. I could almost see him running around the couch and laughing. I closed my eyes to push back the tears. I would never get to hear that laughter.
“Privy, are you okay? Are you having a memory?” he asked and tugged me against him. “Babe, talk to me.”
“I was just thinking about what it would be like to call a place like this home . . .”
“That one is easy . . . move in and make it your home.” He pulled me tighter into him and set his chin on the crown of my head. “I’ve always liked you here. Waking up next to you, I truly believe I’ve missed that the most.”
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls gladly take my place,” I said, and pushed my hands under the back of his t-shirt to stroke the hard muscles of his bare back.
He shoved my shoulders back and squeezed them. Looking me square in the eye, he said, “You’re the only one I’d welcome into my home . . . ever. No one else but you, babe.” He tilted my face up to place a kiss on the tip of my nose.
It was hard to believe I was the only one, but knowing I was one of the few to have had that experience with him affected me even more. Even Baby E turned a couple of flips in my stomach as if he could sense he was home with his daddy.
“It feels right having you here.”
“I like being here with you. I just can’t help but wonder how I got so lucky.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek and whispered, “Does it matter?”
I shook my head and buried my head onto his chest. He cupped my hand in his and pulled.
“Come here. I want you to see something,” he said and headed down the hallway. We walked into his bedroom. I didn’t get a good look at the space because the only light came from a small lamp on his polished bedside table and an angled picture light. I turned back to him and caught his gaze that was focused on the wall illuminated by the picture light. I looked back and was startled when I saw it . . . a huge composite of blown-up pictures of us. I stumbled closer to it. There was a selfie of us kissing in bed . . . a picture of me sitting on the hood of an old sports car . . . a picture of us lying down in a field of the greenest grass . . . a picture of us sitting on the couch at my apartment.
The center and biggest picture was the image of me laying down in what I assumed was his bed. I noticed my bare shoulders, sure the rest of me would have been naked too. The picture showed an expression on my face I didn’t recognize. My eyes sparkled. I was content and extremely happy. It hit me that this was all so easy because we had a bond that was unexplainable but real. I loved him then. The wreck might have stolen my memories but not my feelings.
I was touched by the proof that he obviously truly loved me just as deeply. I tugged on my t-shirt when I got a glimmer of hope that we could possibly be a family.
“After you left, I spent three days getting drunk. I’d never in my life been so empty. You took my heart and soul with you when you walked out that door. I was a shell that couldn’t even fake the emotions of living anymore. I was scanning over all the pictures I had of you in my phone when I realized I had a reason to live. You were my reason. I had to get up each day and carry on if I hoped to ever get you back. I emailed my favorite pictures to a photographer friend of mine and had her make the collage. I also sobered up and sent you the first of many flowers.”
Ethan’s home was stately with a modern twist. It was different than I imagined it would be. He had a powerful air of confidence about him that I envisioned would carry over into his home. His private space, however, was warm and possibly even family-friendly. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t stop from wondering what it would be like to raise our child in that home. I could almost see him running around the couch and laughing. I closed my eyes to push back the tears. I would never get to hear that laughter.
“Privy, are you okay? Are you having a memory?” he asked and tugged me against him. “Babe, talk to me.”
“I was just thinking about what it would be like to call a place like this home . . .”
“That one is easy . . . move in and make it your home.” He pulled me tighter into him and set his chin on the crown of my head. “I’ve always liked you here. Waking up next to you, I truly believe I’ve missed that the most.”
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls gladly take my place,” I said, and pushed my hands under the back of his t-shirt to stroke the hard muscles of his bare back.
He shoved my shoulders back and squeezed them. Looking me square in the eye, he said, “You’re the only one I’d welcome into my home . . . ever. No one else but you, babe.” He tilted my face up to place a kiss on the tip of my nose.
It was hard to believe I was the only one, but knowing I was one of the few to have had that experience with him affected me even more. Even Baby E turned a couple of flips in my stomach as if he could sense he was home with his daddy.
“It feels right having you here.”
“I like being here with you. I just can’t help but wonder how I got so lucky.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek and whispered, “Does it matter?”
I shook my head and buried my head onto his chest. He cupped my hand in his and pulled.
“Come here. I want you to see something,” he said and headed down the hallway. We walked into his bedroom. I didn’t get a good look at the space because the only light came from a small lamp on his polished bedside table and an angled picture light. I turned back to him and caught his gaze that was focused on the wall illuminated by the picture light. I looked back and was startled when I saw it . . . a huge composite of blown-up pictures of us. I stumbled closer to it. There was a selfie of us kissing in bed . . . a picture of me sitting on the hood of an old sports car . . . a picture of us lying down in a field of the greenest grass . . . a picture of us sitting on the couch at my apartment.
The center and biggest picture was the image of me laying down in what I assumed was his bed. I noticed my bare shoulders, sure the rest of me would have been naked too. The picture showed an expression on my face I didn’t recognize. My eyes sparkled. I was content and extremely happy. It hit me that this was all so easy because we had a bond that was unexplainable but real. I loved him then. The wreck might have stolen my memories but not my feelings.
I was touched by the proof that he obviously truly loved me just as deeply. I tugged on my t-shirt when I got a glimmer of hope that we could possibly be a family.
“After you left, I spent three days getting drunk. I’d never in my life been so empty. You took my heart and soul with you when you walked out that door. I was a shell that couldn’t even fake the emotions of living anymore. I was scanning over all the pictures I had of you in my phone when I realized I had a reason to live. You were my reason. I had to get up each day and carry on if I hoped to ever get you back. I emailed my favorite pictures to a photographer friend of mine and had her make the collage. I also sobered up and sent you the first of many flowers.”
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