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“Why did you decide to go to therapy?” I ask as I watch him move around the kitchen, putting the leftover food into plastic containers. The need to help him is palpable, but when I first arrived, he insisted on doing everything tonight. Although this was and will always be my home, I am his guest and guests don’t lift a finger.

“Come on.”

He doesn’t answer my question. He walks to the couch and grabs a throw from the back of the couch, draping it over his arm. I want to tell him not to take that blanket outside, it cost me way too much money to have it left in the weather overnight, but I bite my tongue because I know he’s trying and I’m not going to rain on his parade. Once he passes the kitchen counter, he grabs the pitcher of daiquiris and stops and turns towards me.

“Let’s go relax by the fire, and we’ll continue this conversation.”

I follow him outside because I’d like nothing more than to sit on my round couch with my dog and my fire pit. When I am settled on the cushion, Heath flicks the blanket, and it falls into my lap. After handing me a fresh glass of alcohol, he takes a seat next to me. Harper takes that opportunity to jump up on the edge of the seat and lay her head at my feet.

“She misses you,” Heath tells me as he looks at her.

“I’m sure she does since I’m the only one who allowed her table food.” I pat her head.

“She not the only one, you know.”

I turn my head towards Heath. The look on his face is so sincere. So different from the looks he’s given me over all these years.

“You wanted to know why I’m in therapy.” I nod, so he continues. “Because I lost my world the moment you walked out our door. I never thought I’d spend a moment of my life without you, and once it hit me that you were actually gone, once the anger and the pity party was over, I knew that something needed to change. For years, I thought we were good. For years, I thought the downturns we went through were normal, but I was wrong. I finally decided that I need some perspective on me, and what I need to do to become a better father and husband because this isn’t a life I want to live if my world isn’t living it with me.”

We talked forhours about Heath’s therapy. About the books he’s been reading, and how he understands that there are different languages of love. He has never been wrong for working hard to provide for the kids and me, I’ve always known that was his way of showing his love, but that wasn’t enough anymore, and he never listened to me when I tried to tell him that. He admitted that he never thought what I was saying was true because he knew what he thought and how he felt. It took these last few months apart to see why some of his thoughts were wrong.

I feel his arm wrap around my shoulder and pull me closer to his body. “Now, tell me about New York,” he says into my hair. The warmth of his breath tickles, sending chills down my body.

“Well, they want me to re-do the first two books in my most recent series.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with those books.”

I pull away from him so that I can meet his gaze. “How do you know that if you’ve never read them?”

“Oh, baby, reading is my new favorite past time.” He gives me a wink. “I may give you a run for your money in how many books I’ll be able to put away in a year.”

“No way.” I slap his chest in disbelief.

“Yes way and I’d like to apologize. I always thought you were putting parts of our life in those books, and I wasn’t ever comfortable with that idea. I never liked the idea of strangers, or friends for that matter, looking into our life. Not that it was bad, well, I didn’t think it was bad, but it was our life, and I didn’t like the idea of sharing it with the world.”

“They’re fiction, Heath.”

“Well, I know that now.” He laughs, pulling me back into his embrace. “I still don’t think there’s room for improvement.”

“Well, Harold thinks there is, and so does the editor that I met with. They’ve given me the option to re-write the books—well, expand on the books as they see fit, and if I get them to where they want them, they’re going to publish them.”

He squeezes me to him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m so damn proud of you, Whit. You’re going to grasp those stars on the way to reaching your dreams.”

We’ve talked aboutsome of the deep issues, and some of the light sides of my trip to New York, and now we’re sitting in the cold winter night in complete silence. It’s funny, for most of my marriage the silence between the two of us has been defining at times. So much so that there have been many times, I’ve wanted to scream at the top of my lungs just to hear something.

“Do you remember when the kids were little and you were giving Jenna a bath, and Trevor walked in while you were washing her?” Still wrapped in his arms, his chest vibrates against my back as he speaks.

“I remember,” I tell him.

“My God, that was probably one of the funniest things the kids have ever done or said.”

He’s right, it does rank up there with the best memories. I had been giving Jenna a bath, she must have been about one and a half, and Trevor came barging into the bathroom wearing one of his favorite superhero capes. Heath was hot on his tail, wearing the Hulk mask, talking in pure Hulk fashion. When Jenna saw both Heath and Trevor, she got overly excited and started to splash. She splashed a little too hard, and some of the soapy water got into her eyes, making her instantly cry. I pulled her to her feet so I could wipe off her face.

“Yeah, Trevor was so shocked. The look on his face was priceless.”

“He stood there, pointing at Jenna. The look on his face when he realized she didn’t have the same equipment that he did–one I’ll never forget. Man, I wish I had a camera.”

“His face? What about what he said.”