Another Epilogue
A little later
Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you’ve fallen madly in love with your best friend. You’d thank your lucky stars you took the chance on living together, right?
If we hadn’t been stuck between the rock and the hard place of New York City real estate, I’m not sure we would have combusted the way we did. Living in a mere six hundred square feet with Josie made it impossible to miss what was right in front of me—the woman of my dreams.
I used to think I was the king of compartmentalizing. I thought I could handle romance the way I have to treat my emotions about a patient. But moving in with my best friend taught me that some things are better when they’re not separate.
Like desires and actions.
Lust and feelings.
Love and sex.
One used to go here. The other went there. But everything collided head-on with Josie, smashing together in a potent blend. Looking back, am I ever glad she needed a boob friend the night she slipped into my bed. That one night led to this great love, and now she’s my wife.
Sometimes she calls me the full package, the thing she said she was looking for.
“I love your brain, and your heart, and your smile, and I especially love this part,” she’ll say, then she’ll get a little frisky.
Which is fine by me. “But most of all, I love that you’re my terrible-singing, innuendo-delivering, sweets-loving, big-hearted Doctor McHottie husband who takes care of me in every way. ”
And you know, I’ve got it pretty bad for my bold and daring, bright and beautiful, heart-on-her-sleeve, Scrabble-loving, cherry-scented wife who takes care of me, too.
I could say she’s the full package, and that’s all well and good.
But what she truly is . . . is a gift.
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