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“Yeah, I do. Probably about once a month. And I meet up with my sponsor, Charles, once a month outside of that. They’re my touchstone. Going gives me a sense of peace and control, and Charles always has something wise to say, even if it’s just about choosing an apartment or something trivial.”
“Is Charles a good friend?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s not like that. I mean, I love the hell out of him, but we don’t get tangled up in each other’s lives. That’s not what a good sponsor does. He lets me talk, and he usually has a story of his own that relates to the topic.”
“Did he have a story today?”
“He did.” I popped another piece of chicken into my mouth.
“Was it about a woman?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, we did some talking about trust, how it has to come from both sides.”
“Do you not trust me?” she asked, her voice soft, almost timid.
“I hadn’t thought about it before Charles mentioned it. I’ve been so focused on wanting you, I never stopped to think what having you back would look like.” I laid my chopsticks on my plate and steepled my hands under my chin, keeping my gaze on Tali. “I need you to know I’ll probably always go to meetings. I’m never going to want to have any drugs or alcohol in my home. I work out a lot, and if you let me, I’ll be completely obsessed with you, in a healthy, non-intrusive, but maybe a little annoying way. And if we’re together, like really fucking together, you have to be completely in this with me. I don’t think I can take wondering when you’re going to head out the door. But I’m willing to wait for it. We can go slow, see each other’s lives, make sure it’s right.”
She laid down her chopsticks and reached for my hand, threading her fingers with mine. “That’s exactly why I’m here. I want to make sure this is right for us both.”
I waggled my eyebrows. “How am I doing so far?”
She covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh, do we have two very different definitions of slow?”
“To be honest, probably. I’m six weeks into this thing, and you’re just coming around.”
She bit the corner of her lip, eyes dancing over my face. “I’mfifteen years into this thing. That’s a lot of history, most of it I don’t want to forget.”
“Gotta keep the bad shit, Stripes. Makes what we’re doing that much sweeter.”
Letting go of my hands, she came around the table and climbed onto my lap, straddling my legs. Her hands cupped my jaw, and her mouth fitted to mine. She kissed me soft and slow, and I let her lead—let her show me what didn’t need to be said with words.
So damn sweet.
