“I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t like you, Eli. It was because of what we did.”
“I still felt insecure around you. Not because of anything you did, but measuring up to you and the love and empathy you pour out of you. Fuck, I felt lucky to even catch a glimpse of your beautiful eyes. And even now, holding you in my arms, I know I’m lucky, I know I don’t deserve you, I know that I fucking hit the jackpot even when you’re insane and painting weird things on the baby’s wall, planting God knows what in my loafer, and desecrating significant pictures.” I am not going to mention her crazy mood swings.
She chuckles. “Don’t call a pregnant lady insane.”
I sigh and squeeze her.
There have been times when I’ve wanted to call her more than insane. But then I consider the many nights she’s gotten home before me and cooked dinner, despite being tired from a busy day. The times she’s checked in to see how I am after my morning skate when she knew my knee had been in pain the night before. The moments we’ve had on the couch—before we were fucking all over said couch—simply watching a damn TV show to make sure I was relaxed before I tried to sleep after a game. Those things are just as sacrificial as what I’ve done for her, but she could have made little effort to get to know me over the past few months. She could have kicked me out of her apartment—or at least tried—but she didn’t.
Yet I can’t find the words to express what she means to me. “I wish I could be better for you.”
“You are, Eli.” I shake my head.
And then I sit up on my elbow, so I’m looking down at her. “I know that you’re waiting for me to say those three little words, what you’ve said to me.”
“That I love you?” she asks, her tone easy, unfazed.
Me, on the other hand.
I swallow and nod. “Yeah, those three little words. I just . . . hell, Penny, I can’t remember the last time I said it. I can’t recall ever feeling that way. It’s been so long. I’ve been so lost. I’m afraid to let myself explore those feelings out of fear of losing you. Because I know I can, easily. You could have your choice of any man, and you choose me. That doesn’t go unnoticed. And even when I struggle to find my feelings and tap into a side of me that I’m certain I shut down when I was twelve, you still choose to be with me. You choose to be with me when you’re frustrated, when you want nothing more than to plant multiple succulents in my shoes, or mess up my freaking underwear drawer every day. You keep choosing me.”
“Because you keep choosing me, Eli. Don’t you see that? This isn’t all one-sided. I love you because of the man you are, because of the way you make me feel, because of the way I feel at peace in your arms. I know”—she tears up and pats my chest—“when I’m here, right here, right next to you, that nothing will ever harm me. And . . . that I’m home.”
A tear streaks down her cheek, and I pass over it with my thumb, rubbing the wetness into her skin. “Is that what love is, Penny? Feeling safe, protected?”
“Part of it,” she says. “Love is a multitude of things.”
“Can you . . . can you help explain it to me?” I ask, my insecurities once again rising to the surface as I realize what a stupid question it is. “Never mind—”
She gently rubs her thumb over my heart. “Love is intimacy, Eli. Love is feeling protected, trusted, secure with yourself. Love is feeling like you’re home. Like there is nowhere else you want to be than in your person’s arms. Love is feeling this unbridled connection with another human, a connection so strong that when they’re not around, you feel . . . empty, incomplete. And love grows with intensity as your relationship grows. It starts small, like this tiny kernel needling at your back, bringing awareness to your brain that something is taking over and that an emotion is growing inside you. And as time passes, that kernel blooms into something bigger, something that eclipses your heart and takes up room in your chest, so when you see your person, all you can do is let out a deep breath of relief because they’re there. With you. For you. And if that person is the right person, if they’re truly the match to your soul, then they will make sure that nothing bad ever happens to you. That no matter what life throws at you—death, joy, heartache—they will be there, by your side, holding your hand, and reminding you that despite what you might be going through, there is always a home in their arms.” She brings my hand to her lips and kisses my palm. “Love is what I feel for you. It’s what I felt for a while, and I know it’s what I’ll feel forever.”