Page 27 of The Rest is History
“Be so selfless. If we told someone that you agreed to let my ex-boyfriend have dinner with us they’d say you’re crazy.”
Sawyer turns around to face me. I keep my arms around him, still rubbing cream into his back, then bringing my hands over his shoulders to his chest, rubbing gently. “I don’t care about what people think, Asher. You know that. Everyone has a story. And everyone deserves a chance. And I always want to do what feels right.”
“And this felt right? Letting me see Reece again, knowing how deeply I once loved him?”
He cups my cheek. I feel so unworthy of the love shining in his gaze. “Baby, I don’t think you know what a wreck you were when you came into the bar that first time. I know how important this was for you. I know you needed this, and what is my love worth if I ignore the things you need?”
“I love you so much,” I tell him, because I don’t know how else to tell him that he is the most incredible man I have ever encountered.
He leans in to kiss me softly. “I also know that your love for me is real and true. You loved him – maybe you still do; you didn’t choose to walk away from each other – but I also know that you love me. And that’s enough.”
I deepen the kiss, taking his tongue into my mouth, sucking gently. “You’re my angel, Sawyer. I wish I could be half the man that you are.”
He rests his forehead against mine. “You’re a good man. Don’t let what people have said and done in the past convince you otherwise.” And then, with one more kiss, he says, “Now, do you want to talk about it?”
I lower my eyes. Sawyer touches his index finger to my chin, lifting my face to his. “There’s no decorum between us, Asher. We decided a long time ago, remember? You taught me that word. Decorum. Nothing is too ugly. Nothing is too shameful.”
I pull him into my arms, seeking safety in the warmth of his neck. Yes, there are things to be said.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers. He untangles himself from me gently, then with my hand in his, leads me to our bed.
The air is cool enough to require a heavy duvet. Sawyer brings it up to cover us up to our waists.
We lie on our sides, facing each other. He traces the bridge of my nose with his index finger. “There’s no decorum between us, Asher,” he repeats. “You told me that when you needed to know where and what I come from. You never judged me for the life I had before you. You never judged the poverty I lived in; when I didn’t have manners. The squalor I lived in. Do you think I didn’t notice you filling my plate up at dinner?”
A knot sits inside my throat. “It hurts me to think about how you didn’t have enough food when you were a child. I never want you to feel that way again.”
“So, then tell me, Asher. How can I not be sensitive to the things that make you you, when you have been this way with me since the beginning? Just the way it hurts you to think about my past, it hurts me to see you struggle with yours.”
The words are in my throat. I’m so scared.
“There’s no decorum between us, my love,” Sawyer murmurs against my mouth.
“I wanted to hold him,” I admit, anguish thickening my voice. My words fall desperately onto his lips, crying out for understanding. For forgiveness for my feelings.
“He was your first love and he was stolen from you. Why wouldn’t you want to hold him again?” Sawyer presses his lips to mine.
“Are you angry? Have I hurt you? I can’t hurt you, Sawyer.”
“I’m not angry, Asher. You didn’t hurt me. You would never hurt me.”
“His – his daughter died.” And just like that, all the feelings I felt for Reece’s pain come bursting through the surface. “She lived fifteen minutes. Reece’s baby didn’t even open her eyes. He doesn’t know what color they were.”
I wet his chest with my tears when he gathers me close. “I felt so hurt for him. I don’t know how he coped. If we were still friends I would’ve tried to help him.”
“Yes, you would have. I’m so sorry that you couldn’t,” Sawyer whispers against my hair.
For a few moments I am inconsolable over Reece’s hurt. How alone he must have felt. His sadness is as unbearable now as it used to be when we were innocent teenage boys.
It’s a long time before I’m able to stop shaking in Sawyer’s arms. He holds me together with a quietness that speaks volumes about his care for me.
Finally, when words become possible again, I lift my face to his. “You are my angel, Sawyer,” I tell him with all the love and admiration I can find inside of me.
“I’m just your husband.” He smiles, soft and filled with love.
My lips find his. “Husband isn’t enough of a word for what you are to me.”
He chuckles. “I love you too, Ash.”
