Tristan and I started leaving Post-It notes around each other’s houses for one another. Unlike Mama and Dad’s, ours weren’t as romantic. Most of the time, they were corny and silly—which kind of made me love them even more.
***
I think you have a cute butt. –EB
***
Sometimes when I’m cutting the grass and you’re sitting on your porch reading your dirty books, I see your face blush when you get to a really good part. That Mr. Darcy must have done some crazy shit to Elizabeth’s body. –TC
***
I don’t know if I should be worried or turned on that you know the names of the characters from Pride and Prejudice. –EB
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You. Are. So. Fucking. Beautiful. –TC
***
Knock knock. –EB
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Who’s there? –TC
***
Me. Naked. At midnight. In my bed. Join me. Bring an Incredible Hulk costume and your huge green monster. –EB
***
Please, please, please never call my penis a green monster. On a scale of 1-10, that’s a solid ‘fucked up’. –TC
P.S. I won’t argue with the word ‘huge’ though. I even think you should look into other words like: Enormous. Massive. Gigantic. Heaven-sent.
***
I want you to hold me tonight. –EB
***
You know that place in between nightmares and dreams? The place where tomorrows never come and yesterdays don’t hurt anymore? The place where your heart beats in sync with mine? The place where time doesn’t exist, and it’s easy to breathe?
I want to live there with you. –TC
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elizabeth
Weeks began to pass, and if Tristan wasn’t kissing my lips, he was in a sassy argument with Emma. They fought over the weirdest things, but would always end up laughing together.
“I’m telling you, Tock , Iron Man is the best Avenger,” Tristan said, throwing French fries at Emma from across the table.
“No way! He doesn’t have a cool shield like Captain America, Tick! You don’t know anything about anything.”
“I know something about something, so take that!” he said, sticking his tongue out at her. She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him.
“You don’t know ANYTHING!”
A conversation like this happened each night, and I was starting to love our new normal.
One night after I put Emma to bed, Tristan and I lay on the living room floor, books in our hands. I held on to Harry Potter, while his eyes were fixed on the Bible. Sometimes I would turn to glance at him and I would catch him staring at me with a small smile on his face before he went back to reading.
“Okay,” I said, laying the book in my lap. “Your thoughts on the Bible so far.”
He laughed and nodded. “It makes you think. It makes you want to know more about everything.”
“But?” I asked, knowing there was a ‘but’ coming.
“But…I don’t understand at least ninety-six percent of it.” He chuckled, placing the book down.
“What do you want to be, Tristan?”
He turned to me and narrowed his eyes, uncertain what I meant. “What?”
“What do you want to be?” I asked again. “We never really talk about what we want, and I’m just curious.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shrugged, unable to answer. “I don’t know. I mean, in the past I was a father. A husband. But now…I have no clue.”
My lips released a quiet sigh, and I frowned. “I wish you could see in yourself what I see when I look at you.”
“What do you see?”
“A fighter. Strength. Courage. Someone who loves deep and loves hard. Someone who doesn’t run when things get messy. When I look at you, I see endless possibilities. You’re smart, Tristan. And talented.” He cringed. I shook my head. “You are. And you can do anything. Anything you set your mind to, you can do. Your wood work is amazing; you could do something with that.”
“I was,” he said. “My dad and I were starting our business up, and the day of the accident, he and I were flying to New York to meet with a few people interested in being our business partners.”
“And nothing came of it?”
He shook his head. “We didn’t even make it to New York. We had a layover in Detroit, and when we touched down and turned on our cell phones, we had a ton of messages about Jamie and Charlie.”
“That’s so—”
“It was the worst day of my life.”
Before I could reply, I heard the sound of footsteps running down the hallway.
“Mama! Mama! Look!” Emma said, holding her camera in one hand and two white feathers in her other hand.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping, missy.”
She groaned. “I know, Mama, but look! Two white feathers!”
“Oh, it looks like Daddy is giving you a few kisses,” I said.
She shook her head. “No, Mama. These aren’t from Daddy.” Emma walked over to Tristan and handed him the feathers. “They are from Tristan’s family.”