welcome to the shitshow

You sigh, annoyed with having verbalized the silly insecurities you sometimes get caught up in. “Nevermind,” you hum, “keep reading.”

He doesn’t, and of course he doesn’t. His book is soon placed on that end table and you’re not even sure if he took the time to place the bookmark on his current page as he did. He slides his right hand up to your thigh and back, an ask you know is one where he wants you to look at him and answer him and communicate with him about what you’re really feeling.

“We don’t need to hash this one out,” you say, voice stronger now and more sure as you hold his eye. “I’m just being ridiculous and I know that.”

He speaks your name then, slowly and with purpose and it matches how he squeezes his fingers along your skin, a press for more that you’re frustrated in having set yourself up for.

“I saw her this morning,” you concede, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. “I always forget how beautiful she is until I see her again.”

His ex is someone you knew once upon a time yourself, a smart, striking woman whose relationship with Chris was always a good one. Their breakup surprised your friend group all those years ago but it wasn’t dramatic and as you and Chris eventually grew closer in the time that followed, he always spoke about her like things just didn’t work out, always respecting her in ways that made you appreciate his character even more.

“She is beautiful, yeah,” Chris speaks, interrupting your wandering thoughts. “I’ve always had good taste.” He smirks then, light and silly in hopes of pulling you from those unnecessary thoughts and you appreciate his effort, well aware of where you sit in his life and that he’s including you in his statement as well.

You’re quiet then and though Chris wants to push, he knows better than to do so when you’re not quite ready. He gives you time and he gives you space and yet he doesn’t change how he’s touching you and you know that he doesn’t really want to let your comment go.

“I just wonder sometimes,” you shrug, far more annoyed with yourself for letting things like this still bother you. “I hate that I do,” you mumble, though he hears you and waits with that same patience you’ve always known as you gather your thoughts. “I’m thankful for her in a lot of ways actually. She was there for you when you first came into the league and she respected you and treated you well and she taught you a lot, right?” He nods because that’s all true. “I’m thankful for her but I still wish it was me sometimes. I don’t think about that all the time but when I see her again I do. She got some pretty incredible parts of you over the years… I dunno,” you finish, losing your momentum. “Ignore me.”

“I’m not going to ignore you,” he speaks, voice rough and deep and sure. “Ignoring you is pretty impossible for how important you are in my life now and in our future,” he stresses, shifting to lift your left hand where the engagement ring he placed there catches some of that light from beside him. He laces your fingers and squeezes enough that you look to him once more. “I loved her,” he says, something you already know to be true. “I did and I owe a lot to her for the years we had but you’re…”

“I know, Chris,” you interrupt. “I know. I’m just being…”

You struggle with the rest of your thoughts and Chris can feel what’s running through your mind more than he knows the true words. “I love you,” he settles on. “And I’m going to love you forever. That’s what I know.”

You nod. “I hate being jealous of her. It’s - she doesn’t deserve that and neither do I. Well, and neither do you, actually.”

“And the difference between the two of you,” he says, ignoring your latest words, “is that her and I were never as solid as everyone thought. I loved her and she loved me and we grew a lot when we were dating but we never grew together. There was never a real future in the cards for us. I always wanted to find someone to share this life with, to build one and celebrate the highs and work through the lows and that’s you. That person has always been you, from the very first moment we realized there was something between us worth sacrificing the rest for.”

It’s how he speaks and how he loves with such passion and it’s his maturity that has always drug you in. And it’s no different now, in his sincerity and so you take a deep breath, one that gives you the clarity you needed in this moment where you lost the truth in your wandering mind and so you lean closer, a simple apology falling from your lips before you reach to kiss him. “There’s no need to be sorry,” he starts, halting you just an inch away. “You know that I’d always rather you tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.”

“Even when it’s about how ridiculous I am?”