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“How do we do that?” he asks, a raw sadness lacing his tone that makes my heart turn syrupy. He was holding back from me today. Worried and hiding it for my sake.
I breathe in. “Well, like today. I don’t want you to be afraid of asking me to pull away from my work if you need me around for something.”
“Only if you promise to be honest with me when it’s something you can’t get away from. I don’t want to have that whisper in the back of my head, always wondering if you’re sacrificing something you love for me.”
“I can do that.”
Some of the structure in his shoulders relaxes. He tilts his head, eyes slanting to the box. “Okay, now I need to know why the hell you have a breakup box with you, because I feel my blood pressure rising each second I have to share a room with it.” This little brown box is a living, breathing monster to him.
I grab his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. I stand and face the box as he wraps his arms around my abdomen. I want to moan from how good it feels to be reunited with him in this small way. To have the fake smiles and terrible tension gone.
He leans over my shoulder to see inside the box, but I slam the top folds down so he doesn’t ruin the reveal. And okay, maybe I am being a little extra with the theatrics but I don’t care. Derek likes my extra-ness.
“This is not a breakup box.Thisis me realizing that you were completely honest and vulnerable with me on the honeymoon, but I’ve been holding back from you.Thisis me leveling the honesty playing field.”
He kisses the side of my face. “Okay, let me see all your kinky sex toys.”
My laugh cracks the air before my heart leaps into my throat. My tongue feels dry as a paper towel at the thought of emptying all my secrets. He squeezes me lightly in encouragement, the veins in his forearms growing even more pronounced. With one deep breath, I peel open the box.
There’s a shift in the air as I pull out the first item. Derek’s body straightens a little behind me with recognition.
It’s an old jersey, worn and faded—numbers cracking. I lay it on the bed.
“Is that…the same jersey you wore to my games in college?” His voice is gritty with emotion.
“The very same one.” I say. The sparkle glue I used to outline hisnumber is still clinging beautifully to it.
Before I lose the nerve, I pull out the next one, a jersey with his number from his first season when he played with the Colorado Trailblazers before he was traded to the Sharks. At the sight of it, I feel Derek’s chest fill with a deep breath. I throw it on the other, forming a little pile and dig in the box for more.
Derek is silent and statue-still behind me as I reveal the older jersey style from Derek’s first year with the Sharks—his number as well. And then two more follow from where the jerseys updated through the years. Each time I told myself I wouldn’t buy a new one—that I needed to let these feelings fade and burn them all in a heap. But something in me couldn’t let go. Some part of me knew deep down that I shouldn’t. We’d find our way back to each other.
When I reach the bottom of the box, I twist around in Derek’s arms so I can look him in the eyes. In his eyes that look suspiciously misty-blue. “I watched every single game you played with Colorado. I’ve also gone to every home game you’ve played for the Sharks. Not because I loved the Sharks—because I loved you.Every. Single. Day.” I wet my lips and he watches. Emotion tugging his brows together at the sound of the wordlove.The Big Important Word we’ve yet to say to each other since finding our way into each other’s arms again.
“And now—prepare yourself for my speech. It’s a good one. I’ve been making notes.”
He grins. “Is each bullet point a different color?”
“Heartfelt is purple. Relationship history is red. Everything pertaining to you is cornflower blue.”
His thumb tracks a circle on my back. “I’m ready.”
I adjust my shoulders, trying to remember my topic sentence. “My whole life I’ve felt like nothing but a stepping-stone for people. Whether it’s that I’m too much for them or too little, I’m not sure. All I know is that friends only stick with me until they find the better, less obnoxious version of me. The one who doesn’t have weird catchphrases and compulsively organizes their linen closet.”And pantry.It’s a big one for me. “Even my dad continues to try out fatherhood on me until he gets a new stepchild and then dumps me to the side.” I breathe through a rush of emotions. “And my last ex-boyfriend, Ben, he couldn’t stand how incapable I was of sitting quietly in a room. He was always commenting on how much attention I brought everywhere we went. And after I passed out at the sight of his blood, he told me this was just too much for him and ended it.”
Derek looks like he’d like to tear a mountain in half, but I continue. “I was so afraid back in college that I’d give you everything and in the end, I’d be your stepping-stone too. So part of me broke up with you to beat you to the punch. But I’m not afraid anymore, and I want you to know that I’m so completely in love with you.” His hold around my waist tightens and I’ve never had a more captive audience. “I don’t want an out. I want this—me and you—for real if you’re up for it.”
Derek’s blue eyes are dark right now. A blue cornflower dropped in the belly of the ocean. His hands find my face and he cradles it. “You are not and could never be a stepping-stone, Nora.” His lips slip into mine and even from this small touch I want to groan my delight. He pulls away too soon, but his words make up for it. “You’re a gemstone. Rare and unique and vibrant. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to have you in their life.”
A garden of joy blooms in my chest—warm and full of color as Derek lays me back on the bed so my ankles are hanging off the edge.He only gives me half his weight as he leans over me and traces a finger down the curve of my neck and over my collarbones.
“If it wasn’t obvious before, I love you too. I love you more than you love cereal on ice cream and more than the sun loves to fry your pretty skin.” His eyes crease in the corners. “You deserve the whole world, and I’d try to give it to you, but I think you’ll enjoy fighting for it yourself more.”
I want to wrap myself completely around him and squeeze like a python. “You’re not wrong. But if I get tired or dehydrated runningThe Great Race,can I request assistance from the sidelines?”
“Of course. I’ll bring electrolytes.” He’s a softie.
“What if I want you to piggyback me over the finish line because my legs are too cramped?”
“I can do that.” His lips find my jaw.
