Page 166 of Angel

He was focused and logical, yet lyrical; I was artsy and creative, but sometimes words failed me, so I chose art to share my feelings instead.

I loved our long, shared dinners on the porch, but I also enjoyed his company at breakfast and during the boring, mindless tasks of everyday life.

He was always looking out for me, opening every door, getting me food, cleaning, cooking, and being my domestic god.

I loved his scent, his style, and his natural maleness.

I adored how my hand fit with his, and the way he hugged me like he never wanted to let me go.

The urge to tell him I treasured him for life kept bubbling up for days; it wasn’t going away because it was the only truth left.

I loved Angel, as I always had, heart, mind, body, and soul.

ANGEL

I was gone for Roxy, an utter mess for her.

Every single time I caught a glimpse of her, I got hit with a gut punch.

My heart surged with a tidal wave of love for her, a depth that terrified me.

However, she was slow to come around, and I feared she might never forgive me.

Had I broken us past the point of repair?

Still, I stayed present for her as our baby grew in her.

I worked my ass off to prove my devotion to her.

None of it was a hardship, because I could never live without her now.

However, I was very well aware that while she’d once cared for me, she was now distant, and I had no clue if she still loved me back.

One Saturday afternoon, I strolled into her art studio in the lodge.

She stood by a huge canvas, painting.

The artwork was an exquisite abstract, a storm of deep blues and gold.

I lingered in the doorway for a long time, my heart aching for her.

When she turned around and flashed me a wry, wary smile, it hurt so much that I could not just stride over and kiss her senseless.

She was still, distant, and non-responsive to my touches, and it was killing me.

Why couldn’t I break through her armor? How much more would I continue to pay for my own stupidity?

Reeling, I raised my chin in a silent nod, swiveled, and left the studio.

Needing space, I hiked across the sprawling lawn to one of the cedar benches by the lakeside.

I sat down, hit with an overwhelming sadness that she might never love me back.

Keen for reassurance and perhaps some insight, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jude.

He’d become my sounding board in recent weeks.

Given his success in marriage, I looked to him for the undiluted truth about where I was going wrong, or right.