Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I try not to let it bother me that my parents still want so little to do with me. Even if they wanted more of a relationship with me, Trevor doesn’t want them anywhere near our kids. Anywhere near our lives. I ran into my parents at a recent fund-raiser for one of Haven’s charitable organizations. The air iced over between us, neither acknowledging me. For just a moment, I wanted to drop the social mores, ignore all the watching eyes and ask them if they ever loved me, if they ever believed in me. Or had even one proud moment? But I didn’t because I’m afraid I already know the answer, and I can’t let it matter to me anymore.
Trevor somehow manages to gather me into their little circle, pulling me close even with two children wriggling in his arms.
“Thank you for these little blessings.” His eyes are suddenly serious, and I get it. I think about our life sometimes and am absolutely humbled by how good it is. Not the money or the things or the fame I still have despite my efforts to shake it, but each other. Our children. The chance to do good for the things we’re passionate about. Mostly thankful for each other.
“I think we kinda made those blessings together,” I say lightly, trying to lighten the moment. “This whole life we made together.”
“And none of it works without you, Sof.” His eyes burn on me, heating my cheeks in that way only he ever manages. “Nothing works without you. You’re my fire. You know that, right?”
I can’t speak for the tears clogging my throat as his words sink in. I absorb them, letting them water all the spots left dry by doubt and condemnation. All the places barren from years of shame and inadequacy. For a moment, I’m so grateful I finally proved that I’m good enough. Trevor stares at me so long, so hard, his love is unavoidable, a tangible thing that wraps around me as surely as his strong arms. I think, in some ways, he’s seen me, he’s loved me, almost from the beginning, and I never had anything to prove to him at all.
Maybe everything I had to prove was to myself.