Текст книги "The Ever After of Ella and Micha"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
The Ever After of Ella and Micha
The Secret (Sorensen) – 4
by
Jessica Sorensen
To my readers, this one’s for you.
Acknowledgments
A huge thanks to my agent, Erica Silverman, and my editor, Amy Pierpont. I’m forever grateful for all your help and input.
To my family, thank you supporting me and my dream. You guys have been wonderful.
And to everyone who reads this book, an endless amount of thank-yous.
Chapter 1
Micha
I’m trying not to think of all the messed-up reasons why Ella wouldn’t show up to our wedding, but it’s fucking hard. After everything we’ve been through, she didn’t even call or leave me a note. My thoughts keep drifting back to the day after we kissed on the bridge and afterward how she told me that she loved me. I’d gone over to her house the next morning, ready to talk about it—talk about us—hoping she hadn’t changed her mind overnight, after she’d sobered up.
When I climbed up that tree and ducked into her room, all I found was an empty bed. She was gone and that was worse than just dealing with an Ella in denial over her feelings for me. I knew she loved me even if she wouldn’t admit it, and I could handle that if it meant she was still in my life. But having her gone, missing from my life, having no idea where she was, was like losing my arm—or my heart. And right now, I feel like I’m verging on that that place again.
The cab driver is moving at a snail’s pace down the road that leads to the secluded neighborhood Ella and I have been living in and it’s driving me crazy. He actually looked at Lila, Ethan, and me like we were the ones who were insane when we’d hopped into the cab and I told him to drive as fast as possible, not worrying about the speed limit.
“Can’t you drive any faster at all?” I ask, thrumming my fingers on top of my legs. “We’re barely moving.”
He shoots me a dirty look through the rearview mirror. “I’m driving the speed limit.”
“You say that like it’s okay,” I say, leaning forward toward the plastic window dividing the front of the cab from the back.
“Micha, relax.” Lila touches my arm, trying to calm me down. Her blond hair and red dress are damp from her jump with Ethan off a cliff into the ocean. They were having fun while we waited for Ella to show up. We all should be having fun. But now I’m being stood up.
Stood up. Shit.
I slam my palm against the plastic, losing my cool, something I rarely do, but all I keeping thinking about is that she ran. Again. “I swear to God, you need to press down on that gas pedal or else—”
“Micha,” Lila hisses, her blue eyes firm on me as she grabs my arm and jerks it away from the plastic window while the cab driver narrows his eyes. “That’s not helping.”
I rake my fingers through my hair and then undo the top button of my shirt because it’s suffocating me. Lila hits redial on her phone, trying to call Ella for the hundredth time, but it goes straight to her voicemail. Ethan’s hardly said anything, but I know what he’s thinking—that I should have expected this. Except that’s the thing he doesn’t get. Yes, Ella does this kind of stuff a lot but it’s because she’s either scared or confused or hating herself. It’s what she’s done since we were kids. I know this, just like I know that no matter what, we’ll end up together.
Finally, the cabbie pulls up in front of the small single-story house I’ve shared with Ella since earlier this year. I don’t even bother waiting for the car to come to a complete stop before I shove open the door. I toss a few bills through the slot in the window and stumble over my boots as I step out onto the curb. Ethan shouts at me to settle the hell down, but I shrug him off and jog across the lawn, stomping over the flowers tracing the path to the front door.
I remember when we first came to look at the house. My mom knew a Realtor in San Diego and she said she could hook us up with a cute house we could rent for dirt cheap, due to the fact that the owner was an old woman who bought it back when houses were affordable. Ella and I had taken our time wandering around looking at the small bedrooms, the narrow but decent kitchen, and the wide backyard. I could tell Ella was pretending that she was uninterested, but I could see it in her eyes that she loved the house.
“So what do you think?” I’d asked, nudging her with my shoulder as she stared at the yellow shutters decorating the front of the house.
She’d nonchalantly shrugged, but bit her lip, which meant she was trying to suppress her enthusiasm. “It looks like a house.”
I moved up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, stifling a smile as I dipped my mouth toward her ear. “A house you could see yourself living in?”
She dithered and then amusement laced her voice. “Well, me yes, but you I’m not so sure. Maybe we’ll have to find another place for you. Or better yet, you could always live in the garage.”
I pinched her ass and it made her squeal. “Don’t pretend like you’re not picturing all the many places in it that I could fuck you,” I whispered hotly in her ear.
She shuddered and I knew right then that it would be our first home. We moved in a week later and everything has been going good for the last sixth months. I’ve been working on recording an album in a small studio near here, playing in concerts with a lot of musicians who are similar to me, playing anywhere we can just to get the chance to play while Ella works at an art gallery and goes to school, wearing my engagement ring on her finger. She seemed happy and even content when we decided it was time to actually have the wedding. I’ll admit I would have rather had it back home where my mom could come to it, but Ella and I decided we’d have the wedding here, just she and I, and tell everyone later because it seemed to make Ella more at ease about the idea of getting married. It wasn’t really a big deal to me, not to have anyone there but Ella, me, Ethan, Lila, and the minister. I mean, I haven’t talked to my dad since I gave him my blood and marrow, so I wouldn’t have even invited him to begin with. But I know my mom’s going to flip when she finds out we got married without her… or she would have flipped anyway. Now I’m not so sure there’s even going to be a wedding.
Shaking the damn thought from my head, I make my way to the house. I unlock the front door and hurry inside, scanning the living room for a sign that Ella’s bailed. Everything looks normal, but then again, when she ran the first time, she barely took any of her stuff.
I go to the back door and check out the grassy yard and deck, but both are empty. My hope is dissipating as I walk past the empty bathroom and into our bedroom, pressure in my chest building at the thought that she’s gone. She left me. Shit. But when I push the door open, I jump back, shocked by the sight of her. She’s sitting on the bed, overwhelmingly gorgeous in a white-and-black wedding dress, her legs pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees, her auburn hair pinned up in tangled curls. The bottom of the dress is pulled up over her feet, revealing that she’s wearing black combat boots, not heels like a lot of girls would. It almost makes me smile because I couldn’t picture her looking more perfect and more like herself if I tried.
But when she looks up at me, her big green eyes filled with so much sadness, it rips the approaching smile off my face. I don’t say anything as I make my way to the unmade bed, maneuvering over the pile of discarded clothes, sketchings, and my guitar, and then I sit down beside her. Reaching forward, I sweep strands of her auburn hair out of her eyes and tuck them behind her ear, then trace a line with my finger up and down her cheekbone. I wait for her to speak first, because I don’t know enough about what’s going on in her head to know what the right thing to say is.
We sit for what feels like forever, staring at each other, and the longer it goes on the more nervous I get about what she’s going to say when she finally does speak. I hear Ethan and Lila walk up to the door, talking under their breath, but the sounds of their voices quickly fade as they leave right away, like they sense that we need to be alone.
“I’m so sorry,” Ella says, finally breaking the silence. She lets out a deep sigh as she peers up at me through her eyelashes, biting her bottom lip.
I fight the urge to close my eyes against the sting in my heart. “What happened? I thought…” I cup her cheek with my hand, telling my unsteady voice to shut the hell up. “I thought we both wanted this.”
Her bottom lip springs free as she releases it, and then she lifts her chin off her knees and sits up. “We did… I do… It’s just…” She releases a frustrated breath and flops her hands against the mattress.
Pressure releases in my chest and confusion takes its place. “I don’t get it… You didn’t show up and you wouldn’t answer your phone… I thought you…” I have to battle to stay composed because it’s one of my biggest fears: that she’ll run and leave me. It’s probably pathetic, but I can’t help it. I don’t need anyone else bailing out on my life, especially not Ella.
“I’m so sorry, Micha,” she utters with wide eyes. “But I couldn’t talk to you until I thought of the right thing to say.”
“Talk to me about what?” My voice cracks with fear and I clear it.
“Talk to you about the wedding.” She looks around like she’s hunting for an escape route, but ultimately her eyes land back on me. “I talked to your mom the other day—she called me asking if I knew anything that you wanted for your birthday, and she also wanted to know if we were coming home for Christmas.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Okay, that’s nice I guess… but what does that have to do with skipping out on our wedding?”
She gives a disheartened sigh. “She asked if we’d set a date yet for the wedding yet. I didn’t know you hadn’t told her we were just going to get married here, without anyone.”
My fingers stiffen on her cheek. “Did you tell her we were?”
“You know I’m a pro at lying.”
I snort a laugh. “Not really, but we can pretend for now.”
She shakes her head, her lips twitching to smile. “Stop making jokes. I’m trying to be genuinely serious and honest right now.”
“You… serious and honest?” I question with doubt, grinning amusedly at her. “Really?”
“I know. It’s weird.” She pauses, her chest nearly busting out of the top of her dress with each ragged breath. “I think…” She shifts her body, tucking her legs underneath her as she gets to her knees. “It’s just that…” Her eyelashes flutter as she stares at the sunlight through the window. “I don’t even know how to say this,” she mutters.
I scoot forward on the bed, shoving the bulky material of her dress out of the way and getting close to her. “Pretty girl, whatever it is, you can say it. You can say anything to me. You know that.” I just hope to God it’s not what I’m thinking. That she’s changed her mind. That she doesn’t want to get married.
She tilts her head and our gazes meet. “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier for me to say it. You know it’s hard for me to say how I’m feeling.”
I stroke the inside of her wrist with my thumb. “I know, but I’m always here for you.” I’m trying to remain calm, but it’s hard. She’s scaring the shit out of me, especially since I have no idea what the hell she’s trying to say. I thought we had all this behind us. The day she put that ring on her other finger was the happiest day of my life and I thought I’d have many more happy moments with her to come, but now I’m worried I jumped to conclusions.
“And it’s really hard for me to admit what I want sometimes,” she continues, squeezing her eyes shut.
“I know it is,” I say. “But like I said, you can tell me anything, even if it’s bad.”
Her eyelids lift up, her pupils shrinking as they hit the light. “I know and I think… I think we should just…” Her hand trembles in mine as her words rush out of her. “I think we should go home and have a normal wedding with our families.” She presses her lips together and holds her breath.
I remain motionless, fighting to keep my laughter in, because I know it’s going to piss her off, but eventually it gets to me and it slips out. “Oh my God.” I nearly choke, wrapping my arm around my stomach. “I can’t believe that’s what this is all about.”
“Micha.” She pinches my chest through my shirt. “Stop laughing. I’m being serious.”
“Oh, I know you are.” I continue to laugh and the longer it goes on, the more irritated she gets, until finally she gathers her dress and scoots toward the edge of the bed to leave. I quickly circle my arms around her waist and draw her back down on the bed. She flops onto the mattress and I fold my body over hers, fighting through the bulky fabric to get close to her. As I press up against her, she tries to squirm out from under me, pressing her hands against my chest, but I pin her arms to the side of her head.
“It’s not funny, Micha,” she says hotly, but I can tell she’s working really hard to stay angry with me. “I was trying to tell you how I feel and you laughed at me.”
“I know I did and I’m sorry.” I suppress my laughter the best I can. “But you’re too fucking adorable for your own good.”
She scowls. “I’m not adorable and you know it.”
“When you tell me things like you want to have a wedding with our families and are nervous about it, you’re fucking adorable.” I dip my head down and gently kiss her cheek. “I love you and we can get married wherever, however, and whenever you want, just as long as we get married and you never ever stand me up again.”
She pouts out her glossy bottom lip. “I’m sorry about that. I just panicked.”
I nip at her bottom lip because it’s too delicious to resist. “Next time, please just talk to me. Or at least send me a text.” I kiss her again, then put a small amount of space between our bodies so I can look her in the eye. “A simple S.O.S or something.”
“Deal,” she says, but still seems anxious.
I hesitate. “Are you sure that’s all that this is about?”
She swiftly nods. “Of course.”
There’s something in her green eyes I don’t like, a familiar look that used to dwell there when we were growing up. Sadness, combined with fear and worry. I open my mouth to press her about it, but she arches her back and brings her mouth to mine. I distractedly kiss her, slipping my tongue deep into her mouth as all thoughts of abandonment and fear momentarily fade away.
I’m pretty sure it’s the best ending to getting stood up on my wedding day. If only I could convince myself that there will be no more bumps in the road, but I worry about the look in her eyes and going home to get married. I’m worried about Ella. Even though things have been really good between her and her father and brother, sometimes during her phone conversations with them, one of them ends up bringing up the past and I know it upsets her. They’re not trying to be hurtful. In fact, I have to give her father props for how much he’s changed, although it still pisses me off that he ever let things get that bad. Let his daughter feel the blame for her mother’s death to the point where she thought about taking her own life.
But he’s been better about stuff and I remind myself that if Ella can have a nice version of her dad now, then she should have it. And she’s been doing well, too, but she sometimes still struggles with depression and her fear of commitment. And I worry that it’s the fear of commitment that is behind what just happened. That she’s just stalling because she’s not ready to marry me. And that maybe she really doesn’t want to marry me.
Chapter 2
Ella
I’m trying to stay as calm as possible over the fact that I’m about to permanently seal my future, admit that I actually have a future, and give part of me to someone else. I’ve never been a fan of thinking far into the future, of thinking about what will happen when I get older, where I’ll be. I avoid these kinds of thoughts mainly out of fear of what I’ll see—who I’ll become—and most of the time I just don’t think I really deserve a future. But I don’t want to be that girl who’s so terrified of her past, who she is and the things she’s done, that she can’t move ahead in life. I don’t want to be stuck motionless in a world crammed with self-loathing. I want to be strong, be someone who’s worthy of love, who does things for the people they love.
I thought I’d arrived at that place, but then the box showed up in the mail yesterday, sitting on my doorstep like an omen, from some guy named Gary Flemmerton, a name I don’t recognize, but what I did recognize was what was in the box—stuff that belonged to my mother. My thoughts got jumbled. I ended up doing something stupid. I stood Micha up at our wedding, not because I don’t love him. I do. So, so much. But I’m confused. About the box. About what’s inside it—the journal my mother wrote, her drawings, photos of her. It was her life, stuffed in a box, revealing things I never knew about her, like things that she drew or wrote.
I should be happy I got to discover some of her past. But for some reason discovering this just painfully brought up the past and it made me question my future. I started thinking about where I was going in life. Where will I be in five years? Will I be mentally healthy? Where will Micha and I be in our lives? Will we still live in San Diego? Will he still be playing music? Will I be working in an art gallery or selling my art? Will he still love me? Will we be happy? Will we have kids? The last thought is scary. I’ve never pictured myself as a mom and the only memories I have of my mom are the ones where I’m taking care of her. I don’t want to do that to my own kids, make it so they take care of me.
On top of the panic over my future, I started feeling guilty that we were having a wedding without Micha’s mom at it. I could picture her getting upset, especially since she was the one who pushed us to get engaged. Micha would end up feeling bad, because that’s what he does when someone feels hurt. Plus, there’s this one other thing… something that I know sounds crazy, but I sort of want my mom nearby but the only way it’s possible is to have the wedding in Star Grove where she’s buried.
My mind was made up by the time Micha came back to the house but seeing him sort of unwound all the confused knots inside me. I’m still trying to sort through my thoughts, but I decide to take it one step at a time. After I get out of my dress and put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I start packing up my stuff to go back home to Star Grove to have our wedding. I put the box with the journal into a large duffel bag to read later when I think I can handle it, along with my mother’s sketchings and the wedding band I bought Micha.
“I think we should get married on Christmas,” Micha announces as he exits the closet with a bag in his hand. He took his tux off and put it in the black bag so we can drop it off at the rental store. He now has on a pair of faded jeans, a black T-shirt, his black leather watch, and boots. As sexy as he looked in the tux, I prefer him this way because he looks like my Micha. “It’s the perfect day,” he adds, setting the black bag down on the bed.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say, pressing the fluffy wedding dress into the bag while trying to zip it up. It’s actually Lila’s dress. She leant it to me after we snuck into her parents’ house and took it out of her closet. I also got to meet her mother during our little trip and the woman seems like a real bitch. I remembered the time Lila showed up at my house crying and it all started to make sense why she showed up that night at my house in Star Grove over a year ago in tears. But it’s been a few days and she’ll barely talk about it and I’m not the kind of person to force people to have heart-to-hearts. “But do we really want to share our anniversary day with another holiday?” I ask
“I like that you’re thinking in advance.” Micha drops his duffel bag on our bed and prods me with his elbow to move out of the way. Seconds later, he has the bag zipped up and the dress securely inside it. “But still, Christmas also marks the anniversary of when we got engaged.” He looks down at the ring on my finger. “It’ll be one year since I gave you that.”
I lift my hand up in front of me and the black stone glimmers in the light, which highlights the scratches, marks, and dings. The beauty. Perfection. The meaning. “I like the idea of a Christmas wedding I guess, just as long as we don’t have to have tacky Christmas decorations, like Santa’s and reindeer or something.”
“You can have whatever kind of decorations that you want,” he says as he drapes the black bag with the tux over his shoulder and then collects our bags. “Just as long as you’ll marry me.”
“You’re too easy on me.” I lower my hand to my side and smile, even though my nerves make my stomach roll. “But it’s a deal. A Christmas-day wedding with no Christmas decorations.”
He looks happy as he embraces and kisses me and then we go outside into the cool ocean air and put our bags next to Micha’s 1969 Chevelle SS. He then runs back inside to get his keys because he left them on the counter. I stare at the inflatable Santa across the street waving at me, or maybe it’s just the wind blowing him around. There’s hardly a breeze here though, and nothing compared to the winter wonderland I’m willingly about to go back to. Star Grove. My hometown. The place where I broke apart and was put together again. The place that holds so many memories, both good and bad. I hope it’s worth it. I hope nothing bad happens. I hope this trip will finally hold only good.
For some reason, I’m doubtful and the longer I stand there in the driveway, staring at the Santa, the more anxious I get. Finally Micha comes out of the house with Lila right behind him, heaving her suitcase down the steps and up the path. Micha kisses me when he reaches me, then unlocks the trunk and sets Lila’s suitcase inside.
“Are you going to ask your dad to walk you down the aisle?” Lila asks cheerfully as I hand Micha my suitcase.
Micha looks at me curiously, waiting to hear my answer as he drops my bag into the trunk.
“There’s not going to be an aisle.” And I don’t want my dad to walk me down it. Yeah, I don’t mind him at the wedding, but I don’t want him to be the person who guides me to the finish line when he wasn’t that great for most of the journey.
Lila places her hands on her hips and narrows her blue eyes at me. “Oh, there’s going to be an aisle. You’ll see.”
Micha laughs as he tosses Lila’s suitcase into the trunk. “I think she means business, pretty girl.”
I’m about to tell him to shut up when Ethan exits the house with his bag in his hand, squinting against the sunlight. “Are you two sure you don’t want to just drive down to Vegas and elope?” he gripes as he approaches us, then chucks Micha his duffel bag. “I really don’t want to see my mom or dad or Star Grove—I’ve been enjoying my space from both.”
“Baby, come on. Let them be. They deserve a beautiful wedding not an elopement in a tacky fake church.” Lila glides her hand up the front of his chest, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses his neck. Then she whispers something in his ear as she plays with his hair.
I’ll admit they make a cute couple, especially now that Lila has this whole grunge thing going. Her blond hair is chin length and streaked with black that matches Ethan’s hair. She’s wearing jeans and a tank top that aren’t name brand like everything she used to wear when we were living together. Her style goes well with Ethan’s laidback look: his plaid shirt and faded jeans and a pair of sneakers that he’s probably owned since he was sixteen. And Lila’s average height allows her to nestle her head against Ethan’s chest comfortably. Looking at them with the sunlight and my house in the backdrop, I find myself wishing I had time to draw them.
After a lot of kissing and whispering in Ethan’s ear, Lila convinces him to stop complaining and he begrudgingly agrees that Vegas is a ridiculous idea and that Micha and I should get married in Star Grove.
“A week is not a lot of time to prepare a wedding,” Lila declares, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes. “Not a real one with decorations, flowers, dresses, tuxes, and guests. God, I wish we had more time to plan this.”
“And I wish you wouldn’t take any time to plan it,” I say, and when she frowns I sigh. “Sorry, I’m just not into wedding stuff.” I round the car to the passenger side of the Chevelle, trailing my finger across a few dings and chips in the black paint that were put there when Micha intentionally crashed it into the snow bank.
Micha opens the driver door and steps back so Ethan can climb into the backseat. “It doesn’t matter what kind of wedding we have,” he says, “just as long as Ella’s there with me. In fact, we don’t even need dresses and tuxes. We could even be naked and standing in my backyard and I’d be okay.” He winks at me over the roof of the car. “As long as we’re together, I’ll be happy and being naked would just be an added bonus.”
This makes Lila giggle as she ducks her head and hops into the backseat with Ethan. I push the seat back, get in the car, and shut the door, then pull the visor down to block the sunlight.
Micha adjusts the driver’s seat before he closes the door and starts the engine. “So is everyone ready for this?” He looks around at the three of us, but when his eyes finally land on me I know he only really cares about my answer.
It takes me a second to answer and he notices my hesitation and his expression starts to fall. But even though my throat feels dry I manage to say, “Of course.” My voice trembles a little.
“Okay then.” Giving me a small but slightly forced smile, he backs down the driveway and drives toward the highway, toward home where all of this started. Where Micha and I first met, first talked, first played, kissed, fooled around, danced, said I love you.
Where Micha and I began.
* * *
We drive down the dark, desolate highway for hours, the moon a bright orb against the black sky and the trees on the side of the road only outlines. Music is playing from the speakers and Ethan is snoring in the backseat with his head against the headrest while Lila leans against him. I have my sketchpad opened on my lap and a pencil in my hand.
I’m supposed to be working on my portfolio over Christmas break for graduation in May. I’m not even sure exactly what I’m going to do when I graduate with my associate degree, but it’ll have something to do with art. Honestly, if I had my way, I’d spend all day with Micha, listening to him sing, while I draw things that mean something to me—things that move me. I wouldn’t want to draw so I could sell my art. Yes, it would be an added bonus, but doing it as a job would take some of my passion for creating away.
Right now all the pages in my sketchbook are blank or have unfinished pictures on them because I wasn’t feeling it and stopped. It’s supposed to be full of pieces that mean something to me, that will make people experience emotion, tell a passionate story from the heart. I can’t seem to find my angle and everything I start ends up feeling forced.
I wonder if my mom had this problem.
“So I’m trying to decide whether to tell my mom or not that we almost went through with a wedding without her,” Micha says, slipping his fingers through mine, and the contact jerks me from my thoughts and I gasp, startling him and myself.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You seem distracted.”
“Yeah I’m fine… and I vote no.” I set my pencil down and close my untouched sketchbook, since it’s too dark to draw anyway, and put it down on the floor beside my feet. I rub my tired eyes, then slant my head to the side and watch the stars in the sky stream by in various illuminating colors, trying not to think about the journal tucked away in my bag in the trunk. My mom’s journal and drawings. My mother who won’t be at my wedding. I want to scream at myself because it shouldn’t be such a big deal. She was hardly around when I was alive so what does it matter? Yet for some reason it does.
“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Micha glances at me and there’s a tease in his tone. “Are you afraid she’s going to get upset?” He releases my hand to sweep strands of his blond hair out of his aqua eyes that are so strikingly beautiful even the darkness can’t conceal it.
“I’m never afraid,” I assure him as he returns his fingers to mine, bringing me instantaneous warmth. “I’m just worried she’s going to get upset and cry and then things are going to get awkward.”
He chuckles softly, and then delicately kisses my knuckles, causing my heart to flutter. “So you’re only worried about things getting awkward, huh?” The ring looped through his bottom lip grazes my skin as he moves his mouth away, and then he puts his hand to the shifter with our fingers still entwined. “There’s nothing else bothering you at all? Like the fact that you’re going to have to stand up in front of a group of people and tell them why you love me?”
I gape at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Our wedding vows,” he says. “Did you forget?”
I look at the window to hide my guilty face. With the box arriving on my doorstep yesterday and the panic of actually getting married, I’d completely forgotten about the vows. Micha had thought it’d be a great idea to write our own vows and I’d agreed because it was only going to be him and me, Lila, Ethan, and a minister. I knew there was no way I could write anything as poetic as Micha would. The boy is amazing with lyrics and letters and words in general. Me, not so much, especially when it comes to writing about the heavy stuff like my feelings. I really suck at self-expression, unless it’s through art. I wonder if I could get away with just holding up a few drawings of him?
“You did forget, didn’t you?” Micha starts laughing again, looking so happy it hurts my heart, because I should be that happy. And I am, for the most part, but there’s still stuff bothering me, like the journal, the vows, my future, what the hell I want to become of my life.
I smash my lips together and meet his gaze. “I might have let it slip my mind, but not because I don’t love you.”
