Joy looks good on her.
I continue my toast. “We’ve all learned the hard way that life can be an awful bitch. But this group of friends gives me so much hope every day, and I just want to thank you guys for being in my life. I took some big steps forward this year, and you guys are a big part of the reason I felt ready to do that. So, thanks.” I hold up my glass to them. “Cheers.”
Each of them hugs me or kisses me or fist-bumps.
We eat, we drink, we laugh, and when Iris changes the music on the Bluetooth from Christmas to something faster, we dance like fools. The party rages on until after midnight, when Ubers begin arriving to drive people home.
We put away everything perishable and leave a frightful mess in the kitchen to deal with in the morning.
Joy is asleep on the sofa in the family room, so we throw a blanket over her before locking up, shutting off the lights and heading upstairs.
“So much for our night without kids,” I say teasingly.
“Right?”
“That was fun.”
“So much fun.”
“Play that ‘Walk Through Fire’ song that came on earlier, will you?”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
She reaches for her phone, finds the song and plays it.
I hold out my arms to her. “Dance with me.” I love the way she melts into my embrace, her body pressed against mine as we sway to the music. The lyrics really spoke to me when I heard it for the first time earlier. The two of us have walked through fire together, and we’ve come out on the other side stronger and wiser for the journey.
“It’s amazing to me how so many good things have come from the worst thing,” I whisper as I kiss her neck.
“I think about that all the time.”
“I think about you all the time. Did you know that?”
She pulls back to look up at me, looking as dazzled as I feel. “Really?”
“All. The. Time.” I kiss her and then lean my forehead against hers as we dance.
“Remember there was something I wanted to tell you earlier?”
“Uh-huh. Is it the same thing I want to tell you?”
“I don’t know. Is it?”
“I think it might be if it goes anything like this: I love you, Iris. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you and the kids all the time, and I love this life we’ve been leading together these last few months.”
“I love it, too. And I love you. So, so much, and my kids do, too. From the minute they get home from school, they’re asking when Mr. Gage is coming over.”
“I’m going to be retired by the time they go back to school. I can pick them up.”
“They’d love that.”
“This must be what it feels like to literally rise from the ashes to discover there’s still so much living left to do.” I swallow the huge lump that’s formed in my throat. “I never could’ve gotten to this with anyone but you. I hope you know that.”
“I remember thinking the day we met that you were a remarkable person,” she says, “and my first impression of you has never changed.”
“Same, sweetheart. I saw right away that you were a fierce warrior and somehow knew you were going to be essential to me surviving something that should’ve killed me.”