No Tomorrow

He palms the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his, kissing me fervently. “I don’t deserve you, Piper.”

“You do.” I stand on my tiptoes so I can look into his eyes. “I don’t need time, Evan. I’ve had more than enough of that. And I don’t need to figure anything out. I love you. I want to be with you… right now, every day, and forever.”

“What if—”

I quickly kiss him quiet. “What if you stumble? What if you need more help or different meds? What if you just need to eff my brains out sometimes? What if you just need a long hug and the sound of the rain? What if you start to feel bad again? It’s okay. I don’t need to think about it, I already know I’m going to go through anything and everything with you. There’s nothing in the world that’s going to make me walk out the door.”

“You’re sure? I could still have some bad days….”

I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I love him and what we have—flaws and all. I always have.

“I’m positive. No matter what. I love the house, Evan. It was kind of our home for a while, wasn’t it? I’d love to bring it back to life with you and move our little family in and turn it into a real home again. And we’ll be so close to all our special places.” I smile up at him. “I feel like we’re supposed to be there.”

He nods excitedly. “God, I love you. I want that, too. So fuckin’ bad.”

“Then let’s do it. We don’t have to wait anymore.”

He lifts me up in his arms and we kiss the kind of kiss that’s made of memories, hope, and new beginnings. We know we’ll have good days and bad days and that’s okay. That’s the magic of love. It doesn’t always have to be easy or perfect or normal. It can just be two people who believe in each other enough to be there for all the tomorrows.

Epilogue

2019 – Six Years Later

Sometimes, certain sounds and scents can be like little time machines whisking us back to moments in our pasts that are so vivid, so powerful, that we can close our eyes and step into those memories again.

Those flashes through time can be beautiful, like visiting a lost love just one more time, for the briefest of seconds.

Or they can be devastating; resuscitating ghosts we’d rather never face again.

I experience both variations. Often.

Blue and I shared years of tomorrows that turned into yesterdays, and then one day he was gone. I can’t explain how I knew, other than I watched him slowly drift away and disappear. Maybe it was the way his body relaxed and fell into a deep sleep. Or maybe the absence of the creases in his forehead. It may have been how his eyes remained the color of a summer sky—never shifting to that darker, nameless hue again. It could have been how his touch, once rough, demanding, and controlling, gave way to a sweet, patient gentleness.

I’ll always miss Blue, but I welcomed Evan.

Evan said I do.

Evan placed our newborn baby in my arms.

Evan never walks away, sorts dishes, or believes he can fly.

He does, however, believe in the myth of little red bugs sealing the fate of soulmates.

I do, too.

The sounds of strings being strummed, arpeggios, and Evan’s raspy, sexy vocals welcome me as I step out onto the sunny porch. Only now, our daughter has added her talents to the melody, and they play seamlessly together.

This particular song brings me right back to the park like it was yesterday. I remember the smiles. The rain. Blue’s sexy wink. Clouds and rainbows. Naked flesh against flesh under the bridge. Ice cream and crazy heart flutters.

I remember the singe of fear and longing that would burn through me when I’d have to go back to work and life. As if my heart was telling me no, don’t go too far. This is where you belong.

As soon as I put the tray of iced teas and lemon sugar cookies down on the wicker table in front of them, Evan and Lyric finish their duet and put their instruments off to the side to reach for their favorite cookies.

“I hope you made more, Mom,” Lyric teases. “Dad will devour all of these himself.”

Smiling, I sit on the cushioned loveseat next to Evan. The porch has become our favorite part of the house since we moved in. The house was gutted and rebuilt in record time. We left a lot of the original charm of the house—such as the hardwood floors and the crown molding, but we did some major restructuring to the overall layout. Many of the walls were removed or relocated to give the house an airy, open concept modern style. The bathrooms and kitchen have been completely updated. Our little shed in the backyard has been converted into a small studio—or mancave as Evan likes to call it. We insisted on keeping the original tin roof and have spent many a rainy night in that shed, snuggling on the futon with candles lit.