Epilogue
DAVID
Yara’s side of the bed was cool to the touch. I moved my hand around, reaching to pull her close. But there wasn’t even an imprint in the sheets indicating her absence could be a temporary setback.
My stomach twisted, and my eyes strained to make out shapes in the near-dark.
The silence of the room buzzed, a loud warning.
I sat up, examining the space. The only bit of light in our bedroom came from the cracked bathroom door.
I waited, listening for movement behind the door.
The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning.
A nightmare had woken me up. I had one of my recurring ones where Yara and I were separated. Her side of the closet was empty, her toiletries gone, and a simple note reading “this isn’t working” on the countertop.
I knew it wasn’t real. It would never be real. But the heavy weight that bore down on my chest was bent on convincing me otherwise.
“Yara?” I called and reached for my phone to check the time. One AM. The world was quiet, cloaked in black. I tossed off the tangled blankets and started out of the room.
Yara was a heavy sleeper. A I-always-get-eight-hours-every-night sleeper. So, for her to be up and gone at this hour made my chest burn with what-ifs.
I beelined downstairs, automatic lights illuminating every step I took. Our apartment was too big for just two people. There were too many places for an intruder to hide. Too many dark shadows that could harm my wife.
“Yara?” I called again, adrenaline readying me for whatever or whoever.
When I got to the kitchen entryway, I found evidence of rummaging.
Boxes of cookies, bags of chips, and an empty pickle jar on the kitchen island.
A half-full glass of water and an empty mug of coffee.
My heart rate slowed a little, seeing the telltale signs of a woman with late-night cravings.
I didn’t feel completely satisfied until I entered the living room.
And there she was, lounging on our L-shaped sofa with a yogurt cup in one hand and her laptop resting in her lap. She wore noise-cancelling headphones that covered her ears, so she had zero awareness of my heavy steps.
I took a deep breath, lingering in the living room’s entryway just to admire her for a second.
Yara had tucked her hair under her favorite pink bonnet.
The silk robe she wore hung off her shoulder, revealing her soft, dark brown skin.
She slipped the spoon between her perfect lips, holding it there as she typed something up.
Six years. Six years with this woman and I still couldn’t stop feeling like I was so incredibly unworthy, yet wholeheartedly needy.
“Yara,” I said, more gently and understanding as I moved to the end of the couch.
She looked up, sensing movement in her periphery. Her eyes went wide for a second before realizing it was me. The smile that broke across her face set my skin on fire. I sat in front of her and gently tugged the headphones off. She set the empty yogurt cup aside, giving the spoon one final lick.
“You’re nervous.” I reached for the laptop, but she moved it away.
“I don’t get nervous,” she said, a teasing glint in her eye. “Why are you down here? Did I wake you?”
“No, but I wish you had.” I tried to grab the laptop again, and this time she didn’t put up a fight. “How long have you been down here?”
She shrugged. “Not long.”
“Your trail of snacks says otherwise.” I gestured for her to move over. She obliged, allowing me to sit next to her and wrap my arm over her shoulders. I pulled her to my side, kissing the top of her head a couple of times.
“What’s going on, baby?” I whispered and laughed as she elbowed my stomach.
“I wanted to work. Can a woman not work anymore?” She stretched her legs over mine, and I couldn’t resist helping myself.
I brushed my hand up and down her skin. It was winter, and she always let her hair grow during the colder months, citing the need for extra warmth.
I didn’t care what the reason was; I loved the soft bit of hair prickling across the palm of my hand.
I loved that she could fully relax into me and understand I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Not when said woman has been working her ass off for the past month,” I said.
Yara worked for a children’s television production company as their Head of Communications. They were bringing on a new series this year. One that didn’t hold back on teaching kids about things like poverty, war, and mental health.
“Nothing you do in the next couple of hours will change the fact that this project’s going to be a total touchdown because of you,” I promised.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I kissed her temple. “Now, please, come back to bed. You know I can’t sleep unless you’re there.”
“You’re so needy,” she teased, smiling up at me.
I pulled her tighter into my chest. “I am. Desperate, too.”
“Desperate, you say?” She raised a brow, something brewing in that beautiful brain of hers.
“Don’t,” I warned, even though I loved it when she looked at me that way.
Loved how her challenges made me want her even more.
I’d do anything to make this woman smile.
Crawl on my knees (check), beg (double check), offer her the sun, moon, and stars (triple check).
I lifted her hand to kiss the ring on her finger.
The shining sunstone that tied me to her from now to eternity.
She’s mine, I repeated, still trying to get used to the reality because I never thought this would happen. That Yara Every could fall for me as hard and deeply as I had fallen for her.
I kissed her hand again and then her wrist, right where her heartbeat drummed, and then her exposed shoulder.
“David,” she said. It’s supposed to be a warning, but her breathy sigh made it an anthem of desire.
“Yes?” I asked, trying to sound clueless as my hand cupped her cheek to turn her face to me. I kissed her, trying to melt away all her anxieties.
“I’ll go back to bed with you on one condition,” she said against my lips.
“Anything,” I promised, not even opening my eyes because I was so lost in her voice.
“Tell me who you were dating.”
I laughed and pulled away to see her face. Yara lifted her brows, tilting her head to the side. She’d been asking me this question for the past few weeks after she found one of her journals from our senior year in college.
“Yara, come on,” I said, holding out only because I enjoyed hearing her guesses. Seeing her try to put the puzzle pieces together. “Really?”
“Really.” She poked my chest. “Why are you so secretive about it?”
“I’m not. I totally forgot about it until you started bringing it up.”
“David, please.” Yara crossed her arms over her chest, offering the prettiest pout I’ve ever seen. I groaned. It was impossible to deny her anything.
“You are so gorgeous,” I mused, taking her face between my hands and pulling her close enough so that my forehead pressed against hers. “You know that.”
She grinned. “I do. Now stop stalling.”
“Fine, fine. But only because I’m exhausted and need to get up early tomorrow.” I exaggerated a sigh. “I was… seeing you.”
Yara laughed and pointed at me. “I knew it! I knew you didn’t have anyone.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I held up my hands. “No, you did not. There’s no way you knew that.”
“I did! You were so obsessed with me, you couldn’t have been dating anyone else.” She was buzzing with vindication.
I playfully bit the finger she pointed at me. Yara snatched it back and used her other finger to carry on its blaming legacy.
“Obsessed with me,” she repeated with a laugh.
“Was not.” I grabbed her waist, trying to pull her back into my lap. Yara put up a fight, and we ended up wrestling until she was lying underneath me on the couch.
“Not fair.” She wiggled out of breath and full of laughter. “You’re not allowed to use pro-football moves. We agreed.”
I snorted. “That was hardly a pro-move. You should see me on the field.”
“I always see you on the field.” Yara had never missed one game. Whether she had to take her laptop for work into the NFL suite or not, she was there, cheering me on.
“Sure, but are you ever paying attention to anything other than my ass?” I asked.
She was silent for a moment before letting out a huff of surrender. “Fine. I yield.”
I grinned. “You yield?”
“Yes, for now.” She squirmed some more before I got off her.
“I just…” I laughed under my breath a bit, remembering how caught up I’d been in image and trying to hide the parts of me I didn’t want her to see back then. “I said I was seeing someone so you wouldn’t think I was waiting around for you all the time.”
She sat up, readjusting her bonnet with a bright smile on her face. “But you were.”
“When I wasn’t practicing.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Sure, I guess.”
“Sure?” Yara laughed and crawled into my lap. “That’s all I get? A sure? I guess?”
“Fine. Yes, then,” I said, voice hoarse as she lowered herself onto me. I knew she felt how hard I was from how her pupils dilated. “I didn’t realize it, but I was obsessed with you. Seeing you. Hearing you. Wanting you. You were the best part of every moment. Still are and always will be.”
“Why couldn’t you just say that?”
“And ruin all the fun we had?” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Yara leaned in closer, her lips hovering over mine. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that, Mr. Evans?”
I nodded. “But you love, don’t you, Mrs. Evans? You love me.”
“Till my final breath,” she promised. “What about you?”
“Till my final breath,” I agreed. “And many millennia after.”
Yara shook her head, smiling. “Always trying to one-up me.”
I kissed her, tattooing the promise on her lips so she’d memorize the taste of it.
The feel of it.
The truth of it.