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When he called me Angel, he was talking to me as far as I was concerned. It wasn’t her nickname … it was mine.
“Don’t leave me again. Stay. Just stay with me,” he whispered against my lips as we made love soft and slow.
He held me close as if I was a bird waiting to fly free, and I let him, feeling more content than I had in weeks.
“I love you so much, Wyatt.”
“I love you more,” he responded, flipping me onto my back and filling me yet again.
Afterward, he relaxed in my arms, his head resting on my arm, and I watched him sleep. From the darkened circles around his eyes, I could tell he hadn’t been getting my rest. Neither had I. We were both suffering, and I hated that I couldn’t make it all better.
I moved to get more comfortable, and he woke and grabbed me as if I were about to run away.
“Shh,” I calmed him. “I’m here, Wyatt. I’m here with you.”
He settled, his expression going calm again. Then he wrapped his large arms around me and held me close. Kissing me on the shoulder, he whispered, “I’m glad you’re home. Let’s be us again.”
And then he slowly drifted back off to sleep.
I hadn’t spoken much to him, and when I did, I only spoke the truth, but the fact was, I couldn’t stay no matter how badly I wanted to. Once I knew he was asleep, I climbed from the bed, dressed in my clothes, and disappeared from his life once again.
It wasn’t fair for either of us, but it was the right thing to do. And so, I would do it even though it shredded my heart in the process.
