There would likely never be a day where she stopped being more careful than she had been before that fuckwad came into her life.
But she hadn’t broken down. She didn’t have nightmares that I could tell.
And she was handling the anniversary of that day like it was just any other day.
“Hey,” she called, walking in, uncertainly shifting from foot to foot, something she wasn’t usually known for, making me give her my full attention. “Do you know what today is?” She asked moving over toward me, but not coming to sit on my lap like she usually would.
“Babe…” I started, not knowing what I was supposed to say.
But then she gave me a small smile. “One year ago today, we met for the first time.”
Fuck.
Could she be any cuter?
Talk about making lemons into lemonade too.
She was choosing not to see this day as the anniversary of the worst one of her life. No. She was choosing instead to remember it as the day that led to all the best ones we had shared together.
I had told her a thousand times at least before.
But every time I did, she looked at me like it was the first time. With wonder. With pure joy.
“God, I fucking love you,” I declared, reaching up, grabbing her arm, and pulling her down onto my lap.
“I love you too,” she declared, snuggling into my neck.
I felt it then too.
The sure feeling in my gut.
She had confessed to me many months ago that she felt it too, that she had felt it right from the beginning, but thought it was too strange to admit, not realizing I felt it as well.
Maybe today was the day I could drag that ring out of my nightstand and give it to her.
Make her mine forever.
Nothing in the world had ever felt more right.