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“No, I mean, do we need to use one?”
“Oh.” My chest went tight. “No. I can’t think of any reason we should.”
He nodded, smoothed a hand down my cheek, peered into my eyes and kissed me again. “I love you, Peter.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll be right back.” He moved off the bed and over to the stereo system he’d put in before he’d left for Florida. Pressing play on the CD player, the sweet, almost saccharine, opening notes of our song came on.
“It’s like a story of love,” I sang softly, reaching for him.
“Only you,” Daniel whispered, crawling toward me over the mattress.
No one else had ever touched us like this. We’d never shared this level of trust with another soul. It was powerful and beautiful, and we whispered promises as we moved together with nothing between us.
Only us.
***
The next dayDaniel and I took Milky Way on a walk through the green space opposite the house, and then I headed back home to check in with my parents and to grab more of my things.
Being with Daniel so openly and honestly the night before left us both resistant to being apart for long. We were eager to start a new life together. I was young, I knew, and so was he, but we were ready to dive deeper into adulthood. Living together seemed like the best next step to advancing our relationship and our lives.
Sitting at the kitchen table with Mom and Dad, I fessed up to planning to more-or-less live with Daniel during the upcoming semester. “His place is closer to school. You’re welcome to come see it and visit anytime. It’s really nice.”
“How does he afford this house?”
“He bought it with his portion of the inheritance from his dad and the sale of his dad’s business and the house. He’s got a decent amount put aside to get through school.”
“And after that he’ll be a nurse?” Mom said.
“That’s his goal. Yeah.”
Her attitude toward Daniel continued to be tepid. She agreed he was a good guy, that I seemed happy, and that he didn’t cause me pain like Adam had. But she still seemed to think I needed someone more artistic to be satisfied. I had no idea why she couldn’t let that idea go, especially given that she and Dad were happy together, and Dad wasn’t an artist of any kind. A dreamer, maybe, but not an artist or a writer.
“What about you?” she pressed. “How will you afford to keep up your share of expenses?”
“I can take on more shifts at the library,” I said. “And I don’t eat that much. Between what I make at work, and what Daniel has saved, I think we should be fine.”
“What if there’s an emergency?”
“That’s what we’re for,” Dad said. “To help out if he needs us while he’s getting on his feet as an adult.”
Mom sighed, her shoulders curving.
“It’s not that different than if I were moving into the dorms. I’ll still come home to visit.”
Her eyes were damp as she pulled at her string cheese distractedly. “But you won’t even need to come home to do laundry,” she whispered. “I’m sure he has a washer and dryer.”
“I can bring laundry home if that’s important to you, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes and tossed a bit of string cheese at me.
Dad sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a big step, Petey-boy, but you know you can always come back if things don’t work out.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Well, we knew this day would come, Jessica,” Dad said, taking her hand. “It’s part of the parenting gig.”
