I look down at my soaked shirt clinging to my body. Despite everything, I laugh. “No. The only woman I want looking at me like that is you.”
She doesn’t say anything, but her gaze drops to my soaked t-shirt and lingers. I scratch the back of my neck, muscles flexing under her eyes.
“Well then, how’d you do it?” she presses.
I take a breath. “You know how, by following your lead. Watching every dollar, calling vendors, re-negotiating. Inever realized how hard a job it was, how much I took your money management hustle for granted.”
She blinks. “Really, that’s how? What about the furniture?”
I blow out a breath, knowing this would come up. “I built a porch swing you’d love, but the back wasn’t angled right for you. So I built another. Then a bookcase, but it didn’t fit your monster-sized coffee table books. I made a picture frame, but it took five tries before I made one I thought was close to worthy of that photo I took of you at sunset on our first camping trip.”
She stares, lips parted. “You did all that? When?”
“When I couldn’t sleep. Turns out heartbreak gives you a lot of extra hours in the day.”
The breath she sucks in is sharp. “I still can’t believe you sold your baseball cards. You said they were your second most prized possession.”
I nod. “And do you remember what I said was my first?”
Her eyes soften, cheeks reddening. She reaches out and takes my hand, fingers brushing the silver wedding band I will never take off. “You said your wedding ring.”
Her eyes are watering now. I lift our joined hands and press a kiss reverently to hers.
“I remember how hard you worked to make this ring for me, Becca. You thought it wasn’t perfect. But it’s the most beautiful thing I own,” I swear.
She laughs, still holding my hand. “I thought you gave me the most beautiful ring, and I wanted to do something special for you. I signed up for that silver-making class, and I was horrible at it. Took me three tries even to make something resembling a ring. I can’t believe you still wear it and didn’t want an upgrade.”
“Never. I will never take this ring off; it‘s too important tome. Because even though I was never perfect, prioritizing my family and work over us at times, you believed in our future enough to make this for me. I didn’t earn that belief; I didn’t hold it to be true as I should have. But I will. Every damn day.”
I see it, the way she leans toward me. And then stops herself.
“You weren’t a terrible husband,” she says quietly. “But you made a choice that broke something. We were good, Sam. Really good. In a lot of ways, you showed me you loved me.”
“Loveyou,” I interrupt. “Not past tense. Not something that’s gone.” I swallow hard. “Something I’m trying to be worthy of again.”
Tears start to fill her eyes as she asks, “Sam … I …”
Lightning flashes again—then thunder. Then blackness.
The power’s gone. And we’re left in the dark. Just her and me. This space between us is finally closing. I can’t see her face anymore, but I feel her hand tighten around mine.
28
BECCA
Iinstantly reach for Sam as the storm rages, leaving us in darkness. I feel his arms wrap around me soothingly.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, baby, it’s just the power. You’re safe,” he whispers in my ear as he strokes my back.
I’ve always hated storms. I know many people love them, but their unpredictability unnerves me. Growing up in our trailer, the thunder would rattle our house, and many times the rain and wind would make shrieking noises while blowing the double-wide tin can around.
I squeeze Sam tighter; he knows my fears of storms and has held me through every one of them since we got together. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight feature. Then, while still holding me close, he reaches into my small pocket in my sleep shorts to grab mine, grazing my leg gently. I hold back a shiver at the feeling of his hands on my thighs.
“I’m going to head out, check on the generator,” Sam says into the dark.
I grip him tighter with the fear of being left here. Samsqueezes me back, then realization hits me. “Oh no, I never got gas for it! I meant to, but it wasn’t high on my priority list. Damn it, now what do we do?!”
Another loud crack sounds, and I close my eyes at the irrational fear encompassing me.
