CHAPTER 10 #2
But it's real. We're buying a house. Together.
On the drive home, Timothy reaches over and takes my hand.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. Just processing."
"Second thoughts?"
"No. Just thinking about how different my life is now. A year ago, I was running. Hiding. Barely surviving. And now I'm buying a house with a man I love. I got my teaching certificate and started teaching. Building a future."
"You deserve all of it."
"I'm starting to believe that."
He squeezes my hand. "Good."
***
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, THE apartment is full of people. Vincent and his wife Yvette. Jonah and his wife Holly. A guy named Buddy who served with Timothy and Jonah in Afghanistan.
We're grilling burgers and hot dogs on the tiny balcony, and the smell is making my stomach growl.
"So you're really doing it," Vincent says. "Buying a house."
"Closing in thirty days," Timothy says.
"That's fast."
"When you know, you know."
Vincent looks at me. "You sure you want to tie yourself to this guy? He snores."
"I'm aware," I say. "I can live with it."
"What about the fact that he's bossy?"
"Also aware."
"And overprotective?"
"Yep."
"And he can't cook eggs to save his life?"
"That's why I cook the eggs."
Vincent grins. "All right then. Welcome to the family."
It's such a simple statement, but it hits me hard. Family. I haven't had that in a long time. Not since I joined the Marines. Not since I left home at eighteen to escape my own demons.
But now I have it again.
Yvette hands me a beer. "Ignore him. He's just mad because Timothy beat him at poker last week."
"It was one hand," Vincent protests.
"It was the final hand. And you lost three hundred dollars."
"Details."
Everyone laughs, and I take a sip of my beer. Holly pulls me aside while the guys argue about poker strategies.
"How are you doing?" she asks. "Really."
"Good. Better than I've been in a long time."
"Timothy talks about you constantly. It's annoying."
I laugh. "Sorry."
"Don't be. It's nice to see him happy. He was lost when he first got out. Didn't know what to do with himself. But now he has a purpose again."
"I'm not his purpose."
"You're part of it. And that's okay."
We rejoin the group, and the conversation shifts to work and life and all the mundane things that make up a normal existence.
I listen and laugh and contribute when I have something to say. And I realize this is what I've been missing. Community. Connection. People who care about me not because they have to, but because they want to.
After everyone leaves, Timothy and I clean up. We work in silence, passing dishes and wiping counters, and it feels easy. Natural.
When we're done, I turn to him.
"Thank you," I say.
"For what?"
"For today. For introducing me to your friends. For making me feel like I belong."
"You do belong. You're part of this now. Part of us."
"It's just weird. Good weird. But weird."
"Get used to it. Because I'm not letting you go."
"I don't want you to."
He pulls me close, and I wrap my arms around his waist. We stand there in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other, and it feels right.
Later, in bed, he makes love to me slowly. Taking his time. Learning my body all over again like he's trying to memorize every inch.
I do the same. Running my hands over his chest, his arms, his back. Kissing the scars that tell the story of his life. Claiming him the way he's claimed me.
When we're both sated and exhausted, we lie tangled together, and he traces patterns on my back.
"I want to marry you," he says.
I freeze. "What?"
"I want to marry you. Not now. But eventually. When you're ready."
"Timothy," I gasp.
"You don't have to answer now. I just wanted you to know. So you can think about it."
"I don't need to think about it."
"You don't?"
"No." I prop myself up on my elbow and look at him. "I want to marry you too. When the time is right."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He grins, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "Good."
"Is that a proposal?"
"No. That's a statement of intent. When I propose, you'll know."
"Now I'm curious."
"You'll have to wait and see."
I settle back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around me.
"Carla?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm proud of you. For going back to school. For chasing your dream. For not letting what happened with Randall define you."
Randall's court-martial was swift. He's serving ten years at Leavenworth for assault, attempted kidnapping, and a host of other charges that Jonah's evidence made stick. His buddies took plea deals. I haven't heard from any of them since.
And I'm okay with that.
"I'm proud of me too," I say. "For the first time in my life, I'm proud of who I'm becoming."
"You should be. You're incredible."
"You're biased."
"Doesn't make it less true."
I close my eyes and let myself feel it. The safety. The love. The future stretching out in front of us.
***
THREE WEEKS LATER, we close on the house. The movers come the next day and transfer all our stuff from the apartment. It doesn't take long. Neither of us had much.
But now we have space to fill.
We spend the first night in the new house on a mattress on the floor because our bed frame hasn't arrived yet. We order pizza and eat it sitting on the kitchen counter.
"This is surreal," I say.
"Good surreal or bad surreal?"
"Good. Very good."
"Wait until we start picking out furniture. Then you'll see bad surreal."
I laugh. "Are you one of those guys who hates shopping?"
"I'm one of those guys who likes to know exactly what he wants before he goes to the store."
"So you're going to make lists."
"Extensive lists."
"Of course you are."
He grins and pulls me close. "You love it."
"I do."
We spend the rest of the night unpacking boxes and arguing about where things should go. Timothy wants the couch against the far wall. I want it under the window. We compromise and put it at an angle.
By midnight, we're both exhausted. We collapse on the mattress and stare at the ceiling.
"This is home," Timothy says.
"Yeah. It is."
"No more running."
"No more running."
He turns and kisses me, and I kiss him back. It's slow and sweet and full of promise.
When we break apart, he's looking at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am."
"I'm the lucky one."
"We're both lucky."
I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Real.
This is my life now. Teaching kids. Coming home to the man I love. Building a future that doesn't involve looking over my shoulder.
It's everything I never knew I wanted.
And I'm not letting it go.
Not now. Not ever.
"Timothy?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
I'm no longer afraid of tomorrow.
Because tomorrow means waking up next to him. In our house. In our life.
And that's all I need.