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She knew better.
She closed her eyes for a moment, to give her brain time to catch up to her idiocy. “Everything in my life was feeling so perfect. I guess I didn’t want to admit that something could go wrong.”
“You being sick isn’t something going wrong. It’s life. Your life. My life. The vows say ‘in sickness and in health,’ and I wouldn’t be in this if I didn’t see marriage in the future. I’m not dating you casually.”
She snorted. “I know. And I agree with you.”
His eyebrows were lifted. She’d tried to explain too much away.
“This too shall pass,” she said.
One brow came down. “I used to say that to my wife. She never thought it was all that helpful. Having it said to me, I can see why.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “People only say it during bad times, but that’s not what Rumi meant when he said it. He meant bad things will pass and change, but he also meant good things will, too. The good times will change into bad as surely as the bad times will change into good.”
“That’s depressing as hell.”
“I used to think it was reassuring, but then I had something really good, and I was so afraid to mess it up that I think I messed it up.” She bit her lip. “How badly did I mess it up?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t react well to your HIV in the beginning. I know that. And the thing I was more afraid of than anything was watching helplessly as you got sicker and sicker, and I was on the sidelines, unable to do anything and, worse, unable to get you to do anything.” He had a small dimple in his cheek that just appeared when he was concentrating, only she didn’t like what he was concentrating on, because he was concentrating on how she’d messed up.
“But I realized that was selling you short. You’re not Kimmie. HIV isn’t depression. And it was patronizing of me to conflate both of those things. I needed to treat you as you, and HIV as HIV.”
Understanding rang in her head like someone was pulling ropes on church bells. “And I went and didn’t take care of myself. I made your worst fears come true.”
He inclined his head. “Not the worst. As you said, anemia is easily fixed. I’ll make you a steak every night for the rest of your life if that’s what it takes. But if you don’t trust in me and in us, how can I?”
“I don’t know.” She tucked her legs under her, but curling up into a smaller ball didn’t make her feel any better. Now she was physically smaller, along with feeling small. In an effort to keep everything in her life together and exactly where she wanted it, she might have ruined the best thing she’d ever found.
The deep breath she took traveled through the crevices of her body, searching for the distrust he’d accused her of. When she exhaled, she came up blank. “I do trust you. I couldn’t be here if I didn’t. I don’t take sex and relationships and this,” she said, waving her hand at the space between them, “lightly.”
“I don’t, either.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Do you trust us?”
She opened her mouth to answer, “Of course,” but it didn’t come.
“Is your silence a no?”
“No.” It wasn’t. She felt that deep in her soul, down to the tips of her big toes and full out where her arms extended. “I’ve just never asked myself that question.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve asked yourself if you trust me?”
“Of course. Haven’t you asked yourself if you trust me?”
She understood his short snort to be a yes.
“I’ve dated men before and had serious boyfriends, but I’ve never had an us to trust before. At least, I don’t think I have. It’s different.” Scarier, but also wonderful. “Did you trust in the us of your marriage?”
“Yes.” His lack of hesitation was heartening. The depth of his love always comforted her. It had been possible in the past. It would be possible in the future, for them.
What a strange concept. Them.
“Again, what now?”
He shrugged. “We have Thanksgiving plans here tomorrow, and Dennis and Brook are coming over, too. We’ll keep doing that. No reason not to.”
