"My name is Darla, and I love you. Locke is dead, and I'm not," I say in a shaky voice.
Troy stares at me, struggling with something. His face twists into a strange, broken expression. I immediately think he's judging me and hating me.
Troy kneels down and picks up my robe. He wraps me up in it and pulls me against him.
"You are perfection," he murmurs, fighting back tears. "You'll never know how perfect."
"I want to give you everything I have. No more hiding or holding back."
His arms wrapping tighter around me, Troy kisses me gently. "I love what you show me. I want to see it all, but I don't need it all now. I want you to feel safe, and we have the rest of our lives for you to feel that way."
Troy wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me onto the bed. The robe remains on yet hangs open. Soon our bodies move together, making up for two days apart. Once or twice, we think about getting dressed and taking that walk Troy promised. Instead, we decide to hide from the world for a little bit longer.
Epilogue
~~~
Troy
In My Arms
We start our new lives as Rafael's tenants. The location is perfect, and our landlord proves to be a great neighbor. He and I leave for assignments, knowing our women have each other.
Suffering from similar traumas, Darla and Harlow fall into an easy routine together. They spend a lot of time downstairs at the high-end grocery store, shopping or eating meals. We often return from the office to find the women drinking coffee at the mezzanine while deep in conversation.
"She's my first friend who isn't connected to Shelley," Darla says one night while we cuddle on the couch. "After moving to Texas, Shelley made mom friends. After I ran from Locke, she always invited me to join her at play dates, but I felt awkward being around so many kids. I guess it's time for Shelley and me to have separate friends now that she's super mom, and I don't want to be."
When Rafael and Harlow decided to visit Galveston, they invite us to come along for a couples' weekend. Darla hasn't left the immediate Houston area since arriving in Texas. She's scared to go on vacation but agrees. Facing her fears, Darla has a great time at the beach, even if she's overdressed. No one cares what she's wearing, and Darla learns not to care either.
The media loses interest in Darla. Though people still recognize her when we're out in the city. She ignores their stares and manages a smile for those who say hello. Her confidence builds every day. Yet often for the many steps forward, she suffers a few steps back where she won't leave the apartment.
I don't care where we go or what we do. I'm happy watching movies every night while she works on her puzzles. I enjoy Vern's backyard parties, even though I have nothing in common with his friends. Darla feels the same way when we meet my family six months after Locke's death.
After a few false starts, Darla finds a therapist she likes. Soon, she's taking fewer pills and hiding less in her head. Every day, Darla reveals more of herself to me.
I finally take her to the shooting range where she hates the noise of the gun firing. I expect this problem, but I greatly underestimate her horrible shooting. Darla never gets close to hitting the target paper. Week after week, we practice without her improving even a tiny bit.
"Good thing I have you to protect me," she says, deciding to give up on training. "I think throwing the gun at my attacker will be more intimidating than me firing at them."
I don't disagree with her. The sessions are painful for me. Not because I want Darla to be a talented shooter, but because I don't want to laugh at her horrible attempts.
Darla and I marry on a lark during a trip to Wyoming. She's beaten me again in a skiing contest, and I decide her reward is my hand in matrimony. Shelley walks Darla down the aisle while Vern is my best man. The kids throw flowers at us while John wails like a fire truck. I never thought I'd make much of a family man, but Darla is the dream I never knew I had.
Epilogue
~~~
Darla
Freedom Found
A year after we meet, Troy and I learn the secret to a happy marriage. We flip a coin. Heads, I win. Tails, he wins. It's really this simple.
The idea came to us while building our home. While we agree easily enough on the ranch-style floor plan, disagreements appear quickly while choosing the interior designs. I liked one color countertop, Troy another. Same with the carpet and paint colors. We can't settle on a choice for anything.
Troy's solution is to arm-wrestle for the win. Clearly, I refuse to agree to this challenge. Instead, I suggest using rock, paper, scissors, but Troy swears he's jinxed and can't win that game. So we end up flipping a coin to choose the brick color for the house. I win this round. He wins the paint choice. Somehow, this tactic works, and no one feels screwed over in the process.