58. Jensen
58
JENSEN
Conversation and laughter fill the backyard after we fill our bellies with burgers and the seasoned fries Maisy made from scratch. She’s better at cooking than she previously let on, so I’ve added more running to my workout routine. I still lift weights because I enjoy it, but running keeps me in peak condition with less chance of injuring myself.
“The house looks great,” Trevor says, wiping ketchup off his Halloween sweater. It has a big fucking pumpkin on the front.
“Thanks. I have to give Maisy most of the credit.”
In one of our couples sessions with Dr. Sims, Maisy confessed she chose the paints and new decor for my house during our six-week period of no contact. She’s also the person responsible for my new colorful wardrobe. Not Tatum, as everyone led me to believe. Learning this information reinforced the truth that Maisy never considered leaving my side for a second. I’m unworthy of her devotion to me, but I’ll continue trying my hardest to earn it.
Javi chimes in, always ready to give his two cents. I now realize his two cents are worth a lot. “Give yourself plenty of credit too. None of these changes would’ve happened if you weren’t putting in the work.” He taps his temple for emphasis.
Trevor adjusts the straw hat on this head. If I had a bale of hay, I’d stick him in my front yard as a seasonal lawn ornament. “It’s true,” he says. “You’ve come a long way. Never thought I’d see the day when you’d have an inspirational quote on your bathroom wall.”
I send a scathing glare to Javi because he’s responsible for the quote. He showed up one day while Jake and I were cleaning out the attic. When I took a restroom break, I noticed the framed poster above my toilet that reads, “When life gives you crap…flush.” Maybe I’ll replace the poster with Miguel’s autographed photo.
Maisy and I continue updating the house at a pace I’m comfortable with. We removed the floral wallpaper in our bedroom and painted the walls a soft cream color, adding burgundy accents to the decor. She insisted on keeping the black sheets, and I joke that our room looks like a cozy vampire’s den. A lot of biting happens in there.
She spends most days painting and has become better at expressing her emotions. I’ve caught her crying a few times in her new art room. When I ask why she’s upset, she tells me. In detail. I’m proud of her for admitting she needed help too and throwing herself into therapy with the same drive and determination she applies to everything else in her life. She’s tough—a total badass—and no one can stop her from accomplishing her goals.
After we clean up the mess from the cookout, most of the adults hang around the fire pit while the kids watch a movie in the living room.
Tatum walks outside with Lennon in her arms and says to Jake, “We need to get this little man home.”
Seated next to me in a lawn chair, his adoring gaze stays on his wife and son as they make the rounds, saying goodbye. “Your turn,” he says, referring to marriage and kids.
I stare at Maisy through the hazy flames rising from the pit. She and Lucy laugh at something Tatum says. Every day, Maisy laughs a little louder and a lot more.
“Not yet. Maybe one day.”
Jake bumps my knee with his. “Y’all have time. Just enjoy each other.”
“Says the man who got Tatum pregnant within weeks of getting back together.”
He chuckles and rubs his belly. “This is our round two. We moved fast. You and Maisy are still on round one.”
“It’s a forever round. Infinite.”
Nodding, he says, “I see that now. Don’t know how I never noticed it when we were kids.”
I sink further into my chair and spread my legs wide, enjoying my view. “What Maisy and I have belongs to us. It’s not meant for other people to notice, and we like it that way.”
When Jake stands, I bump his fist without looking at him. We usually hug when we part ways, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off Maisy. She’s in leggings and an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder. With the front of her hair pulled back, her beautiful smile and sparkling eyes shine in the firelight. She’s stunning. And she’s mine.
“Damn. You’ve got it bad, man,” Jake says, clapping me on the shoulder. Chuckling, he tosses a wave to the group as he leaves with his family.
Our other friends follow suit, saying their goodbyes with sleeping children in their arms. Soon I’m left alone by the fire pit, gazing at the dying flames. I’m amazed at the wealth I’ve accumulated in life. Friends, family, a thriving business. But my most valuable and prized possession is my relationship with Maisy. It’s priceless, and I’m a lucky man to be trusted with the heart of such a strong, independent woman. She doesn’t need me, which makes her wanting me that much sweeter.
The patio door closes, and she climbs into my lap with a blanket wrapped around her. Resting her head on my shoulder, she says, “You’re deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”
I rub a hand along her thigh. “You.” Always you.
“Oh yeah? Are you having dirty thoughts or sweet ones?”
“Neither. I just realized I forgot to tell you something important.”
Brows creased with concern, she adjusts her position and straddles me, searching my face for answers. “What is it?”
I cradle her head in my hands and press my lips to hers, lingering as I breathe in her presence, her realness, her love. Pulling away to gaze into her pretty eyes, I say, “Welcome home, my beautiful birdie. I’m glad you finally found your way.”
Her breath hitches before she throws her arms around my neck. Squeezing me tight, her tears wet my cheek, and she whispers, “Me too, J. Me too.”