So I have cut all ties. Again. Like I did at seventeen, and again at twenty-nine. I will miss my sister, but the rest of them can go to hell. No holidays, no birthdays. Definitely no weddings. I will never be able to hear a wedding march and not think of waiting for her. Waiting for her at the end of that aisle, my heart bursting, and her not appearing. Listening to the song end and the silence that followed.
We are taking off for two months. Taking a honeymoon that gives us one week in Key West and then seven in the Bahamas. Rebecca found us a house with a boat right on the ocean, close enough to Atlantis for fun, but quiet and secluded enough that we can f**k like rabbits and no one can hear. I plan to get her naked, tan from head to toe, and please her endlessly. Take the boat out and fish, dive. Catch lobster and bring them back. Eat, f**k, and sleep late.
The Bahamian house is for sale. If it is like its pictures, if it makes her eyes light up and her mouth curve, I will buy it. I will buy it and spend two months showing her the life that could be forever.
I don’t need the courthouse. I don’t need the fight. I don’t need my family. I sure as hell don’t need a town full of exes. Saffire brings in seven figures a year; we can live like kings without working. Assuming my fabulous wife doesn’t mind sharing the earnings of her company. And if she wants that law degree, we can spend nine months a year at the university of her choosing. Let her study until her eyes cramp, and debate until her voice is hoarse. Fuck, I’ll hang a shingle in Nassau if that’s what she wants. Or Miami. Or Colorado. Anywhere. I am untied. I have no bearings. She is my sun, and everything else is bullshit. I love so few people in my life. I need only one. Her.
I hope she never knows how vulnerable I am. It is terrifying to me. I hate it—hate how much I love her. I never planned for this. I wanted a companion, and instead turned over my entire heart. I hope she is not too young. I hope she doesn’t crush me.