Page 85 of Yours, Finally

"If that's what it was, then it was a really good one. As long as you chill a little, mister papa bear."

I chuckled. "Did I look like a ginger bear?"

"You totally did. You grew several inches, even, I believe. You looked like this huge ginger wall in a royal oxford shirt."

I laughed and dropped a kiss on her lips. "Good. A big wall of a bear sounds like the right thing to have on your side for battle. Now, should we have dinner?"

A meal seemed like the best way to distract her from the row.

For the rest of the evening, we avoided any topics related to Andrew, or anything else contentious. Instead, we chatted and laughed, then had wine on the balcony overlooking the city.

It was a lovely few hours after work. I liked to believe this was what our evenings would look like, if we were out in the open.

I couldn't wait for that to be our life.

Her audiobook played through the speakers as we cleaned up after the meal. There wasn't much left to do, but I prolonged it for a few minutes— the book was getting good, building to what Vi called the third-act break up.

My intentions must have been clear, because Vi smirked in my direction. "Should we snuggle up on the couch and listen to the rest of it?"

"That's an option. Or, we could continue tomorrow while we make breakfast." I wiped the counters, wrapping up the cleaning.

She paused the audiobook, and the silence in the space seemed loud, without the narrator talking to us through the air.

"I thought you were going to ask me to put audiobook apps on your phone."

"You know what?" After washing my hands, I dried them on the kitchen towel. "That's a great idea."

She leaned on the kitchen island, elbows on the stone, eyes on me.

Her head did a small startled jerk. "As in, you're going to finish my book on your own sometime?"

"I might even get my own books. You could send me a rec list."

I usually kept a bottle of hand moisturizer by the soap, and applied some of it.

"I don't know what I find more shocking. That you just used moisturizer, or that you want to read romance by yourself as well."

I shrugged, and rounded the island until I stood next to her. She straightened and watched me with curiosity.

"I would have hoped you noticed my hands are always soft. Nothing less to touch you with, you know?"

She wrinkled her nose, a smile on her lips. "You're so…poeticwhen you talk to me."

"I mean it. All I'm doing is sharing unfiltered thoughts, for once."

"You're unreal. I can't wait to hear your lyrics."

"Then you might like the plan I have for the rest of the evening." I took her hand and led her to my music room.

Despite how entwined our lives had been for more than twenty years, and how often Vi visited Gabe's place across the hall, she had never spent any real time in my condo. I had given her a simple tour earlier, relying on the fact my and Gabe's apartments were mirrors of each other. Vi hadn't asked what was in the guest room, and I hadn't offered.

Opening the door for her now, I didn't judge my heart for its hastened pace. Her reaction to the room, to my music; it held power over me. However she responded to this part of me would reflect on how she saw me as a whole.

My music was one of the biggest, most tender pieces to shape who I was. Creators with a passion for their art would always feel raw and vulnerable showing these parts of themselves to other people. Rejecting one's art was rejecting us.

That's why I had never done this before… and why I had to do it with Vi. It took a lot of courage to open up myself to be liked or disliked in this profound manner. It took a lot of trust that I could weather the storm if this went wrong. But to risk it all for our future, I needed to know if she could hold all of me.

I guided her into the room with a hand on her lower back. She didn't make a sound, but stopped in the middle of the space, turning in a circle and studying my working desk, with its screens and mixers, and the sofa at the opposite wall from it. She took it all in— the textured wall to maximize sound isolation. The string instruments hanging over the couch. The off-white sheer curtains drawn over the window, with thick sun-blocking fabric pulled to the side for the moment. The two framed photos on the wall beside the sofa.