“Yes. And then tomorrow I can have breakfast with your mom,” I added, excited about the idea. We said our goodbyes as Porter always insisted that I not talk on the phone and drive at the same time.
Being used to the drive from so many trips back and forth over the months, I found my mind wandering as I made my way through the dusk. The trees whisked by helping my mind relax and thoughts seeped in, welcomed or not. I thought about the wedding, that wonderful week we spent on white sands and in blue waters so crystal clear you could see straight down to the ocean floor.
I remembered laying in a hammock with Porter, gently swinging in the shade, napping, and reading. I remembered dancing slowly with him to tropical music, feeling his hands wandering across the skin bared by my sundress. I smiled widely when my mind recalled the nights spent together, loving each other, worshipping each other, celebrating the obstacles we overcame to get to that moment.
I drove into Lincoln City proper and, as always, tried to ignore the tightening in my chest and the way my heart sped up as my car neared the street which held the house I rented so many months ago. It was in that house where I forged this soul-altering relationship with my husband, but it was also the house where I had done the unthinkable. I always told myself that I wasn’t going to look down the street. I wasn’t going to turn my head and try to see the house. I knew I couldn’t see it from the street. I knew it was dark and nothing could be seen anyhow. But every time—my head turned, my breath caught, and my heart pounded.
I don’t know if I expected to see Kyle standing there, or if I expected the feelings of guilt and regret to go away, but every time I passed that street my panic returned. Porter and I had discussed whether Lincoln City was a good place for me to be after all that had happened. My therapist had convinced him, with my help, that as long as I was using my tools to deal with the panic, and wasn’t holding it all in, I could be fine here. I wanted to be fine here. This was where everything started, and beyond all the bad that happened, our everything was beautiful.
I made it to Porter’s house and again was hit with the absolute beauty of what he created. He would never call himself creative or an artist, but that’s exactly what he was. Anyone who saw the houses he built would agree; the man was gifted. The beauty of the house was instantly magnified when I saw his gorgeous frame step out onto the wrap-around porch. He waited for me and I appreciated that so much. I knew, deep in my core, that he felt my absence. I knew it to be true because I felt it as well. Months ago we’d made an agreement to never spend a night apart and we hadn’t since. It was important to our relationship that we fed our need to be near one another. It meant a lot of driving sometimes, and getting up earlier than I would have liked on some days to make a longer commute to work, but the benefits to us were hardly comparable to the costs.
To feel him next to me every night, to know that I would wake every morning with his arms wrapped around me, was a kind of serenity I’d never experienced before and I was glad to make the sacrifices needed to give him the same feeling of security it gave me.
“Hey, Babe,” he said with a smile as I got out of my car. “Good drive?” He asked because he knew how hard it was for me to drive past that street.
“It was the same. It wasn’t harder, so that’s good, but still difficult.” I made my way up the steps and walked right into his waiting arms. I rested my cheek against his chest and felt his hands spread over my back, one coming to rest at the base of my neck, the other landing possessively on the curve of my rear.
“I have some dinner for you if you’re hungry,” he mumbled against my hair.
“You cooked?” I asked, surprised, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“My mom sent me home with something for you,” he admitted.
“Ah,” I said, laughing. “That makes more sense.” He kissed my temple then took my hand and led me into the house. We never bothered to pack when we left one city for another, we kept everything we needed at both houses to avoid it. And when we weren’t in town, either his mother or his friends, Matt and Brook, kept an eye on the house for us.
“Why don’t you eat and I will go draw us a bath?”
“That sounds perfect. A bath sounds wonderful.” He led me into the kitchen and I sat at the barstool at the island. I smiled watching him bring a plate out of the microwave. He couldn’t cook anything and his mother knew this. I loved that she thought of me and knew us well enough to know what we needed. I was blessed with the best mother-in-law.
He set the plate down in front of me and I smiled at the lasagna knowing his mother had made it herself.
“I love your mom’s lasagna,” I moaned, the scent of it wafting towards me.
“And she loves you,” he said as he kissed the top of my head. “Eat, then come upstairs.”
I watched him disappear up the stairs, not at all bothered by the sight of his backside as he climbed each one.