Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
I blink in the darkness and say nothing. But I’m feeling a lot right now. A whole lot.
“When we wake up in the morning, I want to go to Tillamook,” he says.
I startle.
“To pick up the Christmas tree. Can we do that? Come back here and decorate it?”
I blink in the darkness in shock at how out of left field that statement seems.
“A Christmas tree?” I ask.
“I haven’t wanted a Christmas tree since I was a kid,” he says. ”Never got much of anything, especially after Nan died, so never looked forward to any of it. Found it depressing to be honest, then got older and just didn’t give a fuck. This year, I give a fuck. I want to put up a Christmas tree with you. Watch all your favorite movies like we did at Halloween. Can we do that tomorrow?”
“I don’t… know.”
“We’ll just go, get the tree you had your eye on, and bring it back. I’ll run in and grab the boxes of decorations from your old apartment and take five minutes to do what I’ve gotta do; you don’t have to set foot inside.”
“Killian.”
“I’ll tear that place down if you never want to set foot in it again. Build us something else. Or sell it and buy us a beach house somewhere else. Think about it. But can we get a tree from there like you wanted when I first showed it to you?”
I moisten my lips and sigh.
He kisses me. “Let’s do the Christmas tree thing tomorrow. Have a nice weekend together. Or try. We’ll figure the other shit out Monday. The camp thing. Your employment lawyer thing. All the rest?”
“I’ll figure out the lawyer thing, Killian. By myself.”
His body shakes with silent laughter as he buries his nose in my throat. “You’re fucking hilarious,” he says.
I don’t laugh. Because I don’t quite know how to feel. I only know that being in my husband’s arms in the middle of the night while he laughs at my efforts to throw attitude and pleads with me to make Christmas memories together while his lips and hands roam me … it matters.
As I lie in the dark, processing the things he’s said about me and Ray, about my life with him, about my stubbornness and loyalty to Ray, I don’t know for sure… but I think maybe it’s the start of looking at what’s happened a little differently. The information about what he endured as a kid, as a teenager facing his mother’s killer? Is my opinion changing?
I don’t know.
Maybe.
“Baby?” he says after a little while.
“Yeah?”
“I married you on the anniversary of her death.”
I go stiff.
“I wanted that day to stop being so ugly. So… you know. Woke up that day deciding it was time to turn the page and felt like I had the ability to maybe finally do that, because I was finding myself in love for the first time in my life. So I took you to Vegas and talked you into becoming my wife. Now I’ve got that instead of the pain I’ve felt on that day for the past decade.”
I reach up and cup his cheek with my hand, feeling emotion clog my throat.
He kisses my palm and then pulls me closer.
And I somehow avoid the overwhelming urge to bawl my eyes out at what he’s endured. All he’s overcome. And the fact that I know he’s still in pain, still suffering. Instead, I fall asleep in his arms.
31
Killian
She stares at the beach house as if it’s about to bite her. Like it’s an insect about to start crawling in her direction with bared fangs. I’m frankly surprised it didn’t take any coercion this morning to get her here.
When I woke up today I was alone in bed and I felt a stab of panic until I found her. She was already dressed and staring out the window by the balcony, in the same place she sat last night.
When I approached, sliding my hands under her arms and holding her belly while kissing the top of her head, she didn’t stiffen. She didn’t sink into me, but it was still progress in my mind.
“Snow didn’t stay,” I say.
“I’m ready when you are,” she said, sipping tea.
“For?”
“To go get that tree,” she answered.
“I’ll be ready in fifteen,” I replied and kissed her neck. “Thanks, baby.”
It had been a quiet ride, almost no conversation. It began with her turning on a Christmas music station as we pulled out of the garage. Twenty minutes in, she requested a stop at a coffee shop for a bathroom and food break. She asked me if I wanted food or coffee. No puking yet today and she ate a muffin and drank an orange juice after that stop. She seemed reflective and in her head, but didn’t pull away when I put my hand on her knee after we ate.