“Y’all still coming to my place tomorrow?” Hendrix asks, tucking the half-empty bottle of champagne under one arm. “I’m doing a New Year’s lunch with greens and black-eyed peas. Get our luck right for the New Year.”
“As long as lunch is not before noon,” Josiah says, “count us in.”
“Then I’ll see you at noon. Come on, Sol.”
“Night, lovebirds,” Sol says, her smile warm this time.
“Love you guys.” I give a little finger flurry wave and watch the two best friends I’ve ever had take the stairs down.
I’m so blessed they’re in my life. The absolute truth of that has me blinking back unexpected tears…again. I’m emotional tonight. I’d wonder if I might be pregnant if it weren’t for Josiah snipping that possibility away with a vasectomy a few months ago. It gave him peace of mind knowing we wouldn’t accidentally end up with a high-risk pregnancy, and it solidified a new direction for our family.
“Did you see Brock and Clint tonight?” I ask, shifting a little on his lap to look into his eyes.
“I did. I told them we’re starting the adoption classes next week. They’re hyped for it.”
We’re adding to our family, and it feels like just one more step in the right direction for us. Kassim and Deja are happy and secure. We communicate with them openly about our relationship and our commitment to them and to each other. We leased Byrd’s house out a few months ago, to a sweet family, and that felt like cutting one last thread to the painful time we spent apart. We’re stronger than we’ve ever been before. Tender wrapped in tungsten. The most vulnerable parts of me sheltered by rock devotion.
I turn my head to look at him, bringing our lips close enough to kiss…so we do. How a man you’ve kissed a million times still has the power to make you weak in the knees, I don’t know, but clinging to him under a cathedral sky with an audience of stars, I know I’ll never take it for granted. We’ve been through too much, and what burns between us shines brighter and hotter for having been tried.
He slows the kiss, tightening his hand at my hip, pulling me flush to his chest so our hearts pound in tandem. Music drifts up from downstairs, and when I place the song, crooned by Al Green, it seizes me by the soul.
“Let’s Stay Together.”
“I thought the DJ was gone,” I say against his lips, “but they’re playing our song. Did you arrange that, by chance?”
“The owner put in a good word for me,” he says, smiling and standing, extending his hand. “Dance?”
I nod, stepping close to him, slipping my arms up over his shoulders and laying my head on his chest. His hands wander past my waist and hips to squeeze my butt.
“When we get home,” he says, “this ass is mine.”
“This ass,” I tell him, pulling the necklace with the wheel charm and my old wedding ring free of my dress, “is always yours, Mr. Wade.”
Looking down at me, his eyes glow with love. “That’s good to know, Mrs. Wade.”
We don’t speak for a few moments, but sway, letting the song douse us in memory. Two naive kids in a shitty apartment on a cold night, clinging to each other, thinking we knew what true love looked like. We had no idea how hard it could be to live out these lyrics, to stay together. Hearing this song used to remind me of my biggest failure, but now it is the anthem of my greatest triumph. Not that I lost this love, but that I believed in it so much, I ran back into the fire to save it. That when all hope was lost, I didn’t stop looking until I found it again. Didn’t stop looking until I foundmyselfagain. And this man, this moment—is my reward.
Let’s stay together.
Words of deep love, acceptance, renewal. It’s a pledge to stand as one when the world would divide us. When we would hurt each other. It’s fidelity and longing refined over a lifetime. I’m sure the love we have is so powerful, it could endure for a dozen lifetimes, but it has been concentrated and then distilled into just this one. We found each other after being separated before. We could do it again and again until time ended, but in this life, I’ll never let go of him.
“I have something for you,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath misting my earlobe and sending a shiver down my spine. “In my left coat pocket.”
“Another pear?” I grin up at him.
“Look and see.”
I slide my hand into the left pocket, my fingers brushing the silk lining, seeking. And then I feel it and freeze into a pillar of shock. He stares at me, all traces of laughter gone, replaced by something fiery and tender. Trembling, I pull the ring out and hold it up between us. It’s a large square-cut diamond on a thick platinum band. I gasp, my breaths halting and starting.
“There’s an inscription.” He guides the tip of my finger inside the band. I trace the letters before flipping it to read the one word.
“Wheel.”
“There’s no beginning and no end.” He takes the ring and holds it up between us. “It’s our own eternity.”
The tears roll unheeded down my cheeks, and as soon as he gently wipes them away, they’re replaced by fresh ones. This moment is so enormous, so overwhelming, but it doesn’t stand alone. It’s not just the strength of our full circle, but it’s all the times we were weak, and got back up. It’s every hurt, every second we spent apart, only to reunite. Our union wasn’t just made by the good. The pain and the grief and the sorrows forged us together as much as the joys.
“Will you marry me?” he breathes at my ear. “Again?”