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"It's not ruined," she frowns. "In fact, come on, dig in, it's going to go cold."
Duly chastised, I start eating, every now and then sneaking glances at her and fighting a smile at how lovely she is.
"Raf, I have one question…"
I whip my head up, waiting for her to speak.
"The drugs," she grimaces. "How bad is it?"
"Bad," I admit. "Pretty bad. The stuff I was on at the hacienda was highly addictive and it left me close to death when I went into withdrawal. Carlos' men were able to come up with a recipe similar enough, but it messes with my control even more than the original one."
"But you're better, right? I've never seen you take anything, so it can't be that bad?" She adds hopefully.
"It's a slow process," I purse my lips, explaining how the drug affects my nervous system, making it so that if I'm suddenly cut off I could actually die. The only option is to wean myself off it slowly and give my body time to accommodate.
"What if you had the original recipe?"
"Maybe it work better? I'm not entirely sure."
"Let me help," she reaches out, her hand on mine as her features harden with pure determination. "Maybe I can remember something if you take me to the lab and I look through the ingredients…"
"I don't want you to worry about that," I squeeze her hand. "I'm already ashamed as it is that I'm incapacitated once a week," I release a weary sigh. "I don't want you to…keep seeing me at my worst."
"But you forget one thing, Raf," she shakes her head at me. "I've seen you at your very worst and I'm still here. It doesn't matter what side of yourself you show me. I will always be here. Please don't shut me out," she whispers lightly.
Staring at her, I have to wonder. What the hell did I do right in this life to deserve her? I can only find flaw after flaw when I look at myself, yet she only sees the best in me.
"Ok," I nod softly. She's right. I need to trust her witheverything, not just the good sides of me.
Easier said than done, though.
We chat some more on the subject as I explain to her the intricacies of the drug and what I'd heard from the doctors, as well as what it means for my body and my health. Yet as soon as I have an opening, I change the topic, not wanting to mar our date with such morbid talk.
I have one more chance to end the night well, though. And as we finish the dinner without any other accident, we pay the bill and leave.
Steering her down the riverbank, I keep practicing my lines as we get closer to the firework place.
Since I'd wanted this to be a special occasion, I'd also gotten her a ring—a special one I should have gotten her from the beginning. Maybe it's a bit late, but I still want to do things properly. That way, people will see the ultimate evidence that she's taken.
My fingers skim the surface of the ring box, my mind conjuring up the perfect moment when I'll get on one knee to give her the proposal she never had.
"Do your feet hurt?" I suddenly ask, seeing her wobble a little.
She shakes her head.
"No, I'm just not too used to wearing heels."
"You should have worn something more comfortable."
"Nope," she pops the p, "I need to be just atinybit taller so I look good at your side."
I halt.
"What? Youalwayslook good by my side."
She just shrugs, but there's a hidden smile playing at her lips as she watches me covertly. There's love, and there'sherlove. And God if it's not the sweetest thing in the world. It envelops me, touching every sense as it seeps into my very being.
Holding on to my arm, I can tell my stubborn little wife will not abandon her shoes, despite the obvious difficulty she has with them.
