This time when I laugh, it doesn’t hurt my head.
If I thought too hard about what I’m doing right now—cuddling in my bed with my ex-boyfriend on what is supposed to be my honeymoon—I might think my way out of this situation.
But I don’t want to think my way out of it. Letting Miles take care of me felt good. Feels good. And although I know it’s not good for my heart, I can’t bring myself to tell him to leave.
So I’ll wrap my heart in cellophane and let myself be held. And maybe I’ll let whatever happens over the next four days just…happen.
15
MILES
When my alarm goes off in the morning, I nearly pull a muscle in my hurry to silence it before it wakes Abby. Her head is resting on my bicep and the twist and stretch I have to do to get to my phone is enough to make me consider going to yoga class more often.
It’s five in the morning, the time I usually wake up to get ready for the gym.
But the girl whose name has been tattooed on my heart for over a decade is sleeping on my arm, and I would miss the second coming of Jesus if it meant she could sleep a little longer. I can skip a day at the gym. I reset my alarm and roll onto my side, rolling Abby too and drawing her against me.
Seeing her so sick last night was a punch in the chest. I don’t remember her migraines being like that in college— is it because they weren’t that bad, or is it because I had my head so far up my own ass that I couldn’t see past the hockey puck I worshipped? In the last week, I have found myself wishing more than once that I could go back in time and slap the ever-loving shit out of my younger self.
I suspect, based on something she said last night, that her ex-fiancé didn’t take care of her like that. That fact alone makes mewant to find his address and punch him until he loses a tooth. But maybe I should be grateful to that idiot. His fumble is the only reason I’m here holding her now.
The feel of her in my arms is so right. I was such an idiot for letting her go eleven years ago.
While I held her last night, sometime before I drifted off, it occurred to me that whatever is happening between us isn’t nothing anymore. Spending time with Abby is becoming the best part of my day. She makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years. More than that, though, she’s a delight to be around. She lights up every room she’s in with her smile, her laugh, her charm.
I’m thinking about her all the time, finding reasons to see her again. When we aren’t together, I’m replaying all the moments that we were. I’m starting to think of how I’m going to stay in touch with her after this, after she leaves, after I’m done with my job in Mexico.
After dinner the other night, I knew I wanted to take her on another date. After taking care of her last night, I never want her to be alone for another migraine again. I’m beyond just wanting time with her.
I wanther.
I’ve been hopeful that she feels the same way, so when she asked me to stay last night, I felt certain I couldn’t be the only one. Maybe she did just want my company, but I think it’s more than that.
I hope it’s more than that.
I can’t fall back asleep, so I hold Abby, enjoying the feel of her in my arms until my alarm goes off for a second time. This time, I let it go and silence it when Abby starts to stir.
She stretches, turning in my arms until she’s lying flat. I’m still on my side, facing her. If I thought she’d let me, I’d leanin and kiss her. I’d kiss her lips, her nose, her forehead, her cheeks…
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she croaks, squinting at me.
“How am I staring at you?”
“Like you might eat me.”
“Because I might.” I snap my teeth at her, biting the air.
“At least wait ’til I’ve had coffee?”
“I can go get you some coffee,” I say. “Are you hungry? How’s your head?”
Now that the suggestion to get up and get moving is on the table, I’m feeling antsy. My leg vibrates with the effort to keep so still.
“Mmm…no pain. Maybe a little lightheaded, but I think some caffeine and electrolytes will do the trick.”
“Let me get it for you. Just tell me how you like your coffee because I think in college you liked eighty percent creamer, twenty percent coffee, and I am assuming your tastes have changed.”
A laugh bursts out of her—and fuck, it makes me so happy to see her being herself again. Her migraines steal her life from her, but she has it back today.
