Better Than Home: Better Than Good Novella

“Ugh. Why not?”

“Because if everything went according to plan all the time, life would be boring.” I sipped my latte and glanced at the pianist playing his heart out under the iconic arch on the opposite end of the park. “I think we’re better off appreciating the small things. Like right this second…it’s a beautiful day, my latte is damn good, and you know, I kinda like Mozart. That is Mozart, right?”

Aaron smiled. “No, I think it’s Beethoven.”

I squinted playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Reasonably sure, but don’t quote me.” He followed my gaze, lowering his voice when he continued in a thoughtful tone. “If I haven’t told you this enough, or if I’ve seemed too caught up in my troubles…I want you to know I’ve been paying attention and I’m very grateful to you, Matty. You didn’t sign up for endless train trips, unglamorous jet-setting, not to mention my moody self with all the tears, the drama, the—”

“Of course I did.” I intercepted, turning to face him. “We’re married, goofball. For better or for worse, through thick and thin, in sickness and health, good times and bad. This is exactly what I signed up for. We can’t guarantee each other a stress-free, uncomplicated, perfect marriage. That was never part of the deal, and that’s okay. I’m not here for ‘perfect,’ Aar. I’m here for you.”

“You say the best things, Matty.” Aaron rubbed his nose against mine, then inched away and pulled a tissue from his pocket. “Note to self, no makeup on moving days.”

I plucked the tissue from his fingers and gently wiped at the dark circles under his eyes before handing over his now precariously perched latte. I clicked my to-go cup against his and smiled. “To new adventures.”

“To us.”

We went quiet for a while, lost in our thoughts as we people-watched and shared occasional commentary on random things like the playful Lab trotting after his person with a Frisbee in his mouth or the college-age film students setting up their cameras under the trees behind us.

“We can try again, you know,” I said softly.

“Yes.” Aaron rested his head on my shoulder, then glanced up. “But I think you’re right. It’s time to move on and make new plans. Let’s start house hunting tomorrow.”

Screech. Halt. What?

“Tomorrow?”

“Or soon. Like next week. There’s a lot to consider. We have to narrow down neighborhoods we like and look into school districts, proximity to the city and our friends and family. I love Jay and Peter’s hood. And I’d love to be close to the twins, but we may want to be closer to my folks. Mom will want to babysit and—”

“We don’t have kids.”

“But we will! Come along, love of my life. We have so much to discuss!”

He jumped from the bench and tugged at my hand, slipping his arm through mine as he pulled me toward the sidewalk, continuing excitedly about houses and dogs and babies and future things that had seemed impossibly far away an hour ago.

Yes, it was overwhelming as hell. But forward-thinking optimism was the best way to move past disappointment. And we were definitely going to do everything on that list.

Eventually.

“Don’t forget, we have an appointment with the real estate agent tonight.”

I froze in the bedroom doorway, blinking into the shadowy room to the approximate space where Aaron lay snuggled under the duvet. At five a.m., it was too dark to see clearly. And honestly, he’d caught me off guard. I could have sworn he was asleep.

And even though I was the one who’d showered, shaved, and suited up in lawyer gear for a day at the office, he sounded much more lucid than me. Which was why I stared in the general direction of our bed for a few beats before grunting, “Huh?”

The bedside lamp clicked on a moment later, flooding the room with blinding light. I felt like a vampire at daybreak. Seriously. I was operating on too little sleep and no caffeine. And it was Monday.

We’d been home for two weeks now and everything finally felt…normal again.

We’d finished organizing our storage unit over the weekend and had celebrated our homecoming with some close friends. There was pizza, beer, and I think…tequila. We’d both been hungover yesterday. But I’d still played basketball with the boys, then met Aaron for brunch at Jay and Peter’s house, where we’d chased toddlers, had mimosas, and talked about…real estate.

Oh.

Aaron sat up, groggily wiping sleep from his eyes. “We’re going to see a house after work. Remember?”

“Uh, yeah,” I lied.

He smiled sweetly. “Right. I’ll remind you later. By the way, you look very sexy, Mr. Mendez-Sullivan.”

I chuckled as I crossed the room. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really. I love that tie. Did I buy it for you?” Aaron patted the space beside him, shifting to make room for me.

I perched on the edge of the mattress and spared a quick glance at the tie in question. “Probably.”