So that’s it for me. I’m not allowed to have any kind of self-love, and Lo is done for the night. I don’t want to do something moronic when he leaves. Don’t think about it, Lily. I let out a deep breath, but it barely calms me.
“Talk to me,” Lo says urgently. He rests his forearms on his bent knees. “What are you thinking, Lil?”
“I’m scared,” I mutter. “…I’m so terrified of what I may do.” I feel hot, searing tears scald tracks down my cheeks.
“I know it’s difficult. I can’t imagine someone giving me one beer and forcing me to stop there. I get it, Lil. I so fucking get it,” he says. “But you have to find the strength to wait. I know it’s there. You just have to dig.”
I let his words sink in for a full minute. A pain weighs on my chest, and it explodes with my next proclamation. “I wish you were here.” My chin quivers, and my voice gives out. I press my forehead to my knees, hiding my shattered expression.
“I am there, love,” he murmurs. “I’m right there with you.” I hear the hurt in his voice. He tries to relax as much as possible, but it’s as though I’m gripping his heart as much as he’s clenching mine. “You’re in my arms,” he tells me, “and I’m kissing your lips, your cheek, your nose…” I shut my eyes and drift to his voice that begins to settle my torment. “Your head leans against my chest, and you listen to the beat of my heart as it slows. I hold your wrists, allowing you to gently come down from your high on my terms. You collapse against me.”
I look up to meet his gaze. It’s filled with hope, with longing and something more. Something that I think can only be shared between two broken people.
“And you stop struggling,” he whispers. “I watch your body relax against me, and then I kiss you on the top of your head. I tell you how proud I am of you, and how making you come once lasts a lifetime.”
My last tear falls. I can’t move to wipe it. I am transfixed by Loren Hale, my everything.
“I love you,” he says again, “and no other man will ever say those words and mean them the way I do.”
My chest hurts so badly. His words are beautiful and painful at the same time. Like us, I suppose. I have to be strong. For him. For me. For us. My throat has swollen, but I find the resolve to reply. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night with Rose.” I nod, solidifying the plan in my head.
“That’s a good idea,” he agrees. “How about you clean yourself up. Get dressed. Tell me goodbye, and then I’ll call Rose and make sure you’re with her.”
I nod again. I’d like that. So much. Having him on my side makes the unbearable feel tolerable. I just hope in the future our struggle will become easier.
Hope. Such a silly thing.
Sometimes it doesn’t come true.
{11}
A few days later Rose has finally finished decorating our house and decides that we need a proper housewarming party to commemorate the event. She also wants to coincide this with a “Lily Vow Day” or LVD for short. She coined the term and also proposed the idea.
Writing down my vows on a piece of paper and reading them aloud is supposed to reinforce my long-term goals. I was all on board until she invited Connor and Ryke. I reminded her that she’s a feminist and supposed to be on my side. I’m the girl.
She responded with “you shouldn’t be ashamed of your addiction” and “it’ll give you more incentive not to break the vows.” Because apparently I’ll feel way more guilty breaking vows that three people hear rather than just Rose…okay, she has a point.
“I don’t understand why we had to do this outside,” I complain, wrapping my arms in one of Rose’s fur coats that are way warmer than anything in my closet. Topped with my Star Wars Wampa cap that has large ear flaps, I literally look like some sort of furry monster.
“I didn’t want to start a fire in the house,” she says. A light layer of snow coats the ground, but grass still manages to stick out of the powder. A fire roars in a metal trashcan a couple feet in front of us. The flames lick the nippy air, and I question how Rose even started it to begin with.
Though it can’t be rocket science. Hobos do it.
The glass backdoor slides open and Rose says, “Finally, what took you so long?” After the Fizzle event in January, Rose and Connor have shockingly stayed together. But I’m waiting for their next twenty-four-hour break up.
Connor’s loafers crunch against the snow as he walks towards us. “Driving generally requires time,” he tells her. “Simple physics really. Time equals distance divided by speed.”