I pick up the framed picture and pause on the photo. It’s one of the happiest moments of my life, captured to preserve the memory forever. It was taken on Christmas morning, a little over five months ago. I’m wearing snowflake pajama shorts and a white T-shirt with my long hair pulled up in a messy bun. Even without any makeup on, there’s so much color in my face, which is brightened in pure surprise and elation. Love has me wrapped in his arms as we stand amongst the piles of gift wrap at our bare feet. Our smiles beam as Micah holds my left hand out to show off the diamond ring he presented me with along with the most important question anyone has ever asked me.
The answer came easily, though.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually getting married!” Kate exclaims.
It’s at her words when I realize the obnoxious smile on my face. Grabbing another sheet of packing paper, I wrap the precious memory and add it to the box with all the other frames.
“And I can’t believe you’re moving.”
I look up at the girl I met almost four years ago when I first moved here to Miami. “You’ll have too much fun at your new PR job to even know I’m gone.”
“Doubtful.”
She continues to help me pack as I tape the box closed and move it aside, my ring spraying the room in rainbow facets as the sun catches it at just the right angle. I can’t believe I’ll soon be Micah’s wife. I can still remember how scared I was the night everything shifted for us. The night I crept into his room and he kissed me for the first time—our first real kiss. It wasn’t a seamless transition for us. After that night, it took us almost three months to kiss again. I kept wavering back and forth, unsure of my feelings, but most of all, nervous to open my heart again. One thing I can say about Micah is he’s the most patient man alive. Never rushing me, yet always pushing me.
And that’s where it happened—somewhere between the breaking and the healing, I fell in love.
It was a slow bloom, forever secured within the strength of our friendship. It took time for my heart to fall into his, and when he finally had it, I knew it was safe. And now here I am, twenty-two years old, engaged, and graduated with a degree in advertising.
Freshman year almost seems like forever ago. Through therapy, I learned how to better cope with the aftermath of the rape and even the breakup with Kason. We also spent a good chunk of time focusing on my abandonment issues that stemmed from my father dismissing me from his life. It’s been a long road, and it hasn’t been an easy one, but today I stand much stronger. Somehow, I was able to pull myself out of the hell I was trapped in. I’m no longer terrified of the dark. I’m no longer thrown into a panic around crowds. There are so many things I have accomplished, but that isn’t to say that I’m free from the destruction—I’m not. I still hold myself responsible for what happened to me. No matter how many times I’m told it isn’t my fault, that’s something I’ll never know for sure because I’ll never get my memory back to know the truth. Aside from the blame I carry, I have moments when, out of nowhere, that night and even that morning, sneak to the forefront of my mind. It isn’t often, but it still needles on wounds, reminding me that the scars still remain.
Micah has been there every step of the way, giving me space when I need it and knowing when I don’t. Living together these past few years, he’s learned to read me well, but soon this condo won’t be our home any more.
“I just got off the phone with Zach,” Micah says when he walks out of his room. “Tickets are all booked.”
“When do we leave?”
“One week from today. He also gave me the name of the realtor he used when he bought his place, so one of us needs to make that call.”
Zach is Micah’s agent. After taking the win at the Florida Surfing Championship during our junior year, Elite Surfing Management contacted him, and it wasn’t long after when Micah signed with them. They’ve been guiding his career into the professional surfing world ever since. He was already well known here in Miami, but now he’s booking spots all over the country for different events and competitions. As of a year ago, he’s been sponsored by one of the world’s largest surf apparel companies.
When his travel began to interfere with his classes, he shifted most of his schedule over to online courses. His parents weren’t too thrilled when he told them that a career in surfing was what he planned to pursue. Since they pay for the condo and pretty much everything else, they made a deal that he couldn’t give up on getting a degree. As hard as it’s been on him, he managed to keep up with his studies and graduated on time. Now we’re packing up our life in Miami to relocate to San Diego.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do for work?” Kate asks.
Micah comes up from behind me and takes a nip at my neck as he holds me in his arms. “She’s going to be my wife,” he tells her, adding laughter when he says, “She’ll be busy cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry.”
“You wish.” I jab him in the ribs, and he lets go of me. I shake my head as he walks off and grabs a beer from the fridge before I turn my attention back to Kate. “Honestly, I decided not to even worry about what I’m going to do for a job until we get out there and get settled.”
“How is your mom doing with all this change?”
“She cried a little when Micah told her we were moving, but she’s excited for us.”
Suddenly, the door swings open and Trent steps in with his arms spread wide open. The three of us stare as he boasts a grand smile, wearing a suit and tie.
“Dude,” Micah says. “Why the fuck are you dressed like that?”
“Interview day, young pup.” He saunters into the room, adjusting his tie that doesn’t need adjusting. “My people, you are now looking at the future of Tate and Nixon Investments.”
“The future what?” Kate mocks.
Dramatically, he falls back into one of the chairs and crosses his leg over his knee. “The future everything, my unemployed friend.”
“I got a job last week.”
“Peasant work,” he brushes off, and I can’t help laughing at him and his phony arrogance.
“So, what’s your job title?” I ask.
“I’ll be a financial analyst.”
“Entry level?”
“A man can be defined by his capacity to be humble, so yes, I accepted an entry level position.”
“Congrats,” Micah says as he raises his beer in salute. “You’re one step above an unpaid intern.”
“Eat dick.”
“No thanks.”
Oddly enough, Trent has a knack for numbers, and he decided to use that to his advantage when he declared his major in business finance. Trent hasn’t changed much since high school. He’s still as free-spirited as ever, and I can’t even begin to picture him in a professional setting.
“God, this place is depressing,” he says as he looks around.
“We only packed a few boxes.”
“Still.”
We then spend the rest of the day just hanging out, knowing our time together is ticking down. When evening falls, we order in pizza and find a movie to watch. It’s nearing midnight when Micah and I call it a night and head to bed, leaving Trent and Kate out in the living room.
Too tired to change into pajamas, I slip off my shorts and pull my bra out from under my shirt before crawling into bed with Micah. Even though my room is across the hall, and I still spend some nights alone in my bed, it’s in his that I often find myself.
“Come closer,” he whispers, pulling my leg across his lap as I nestle my head on his shoulder.
“What are your thoughts on fall?”
He shifts to his side, keeping my leg pulled over him. “For the wedding?”
Micah grazes my ear with his teeth, and I release a breathy giggle and nod.
“Is that enough time? Don’t you girls need like a year or some shit like that?”
A heavy sigh abandons my lungs when he pushes against me and I feel him hard between my legs. “I don’t want anything big or extravagant—just you.”
“You have me, babe.”
My hands lose themselves in his long hair. “Do I?”
He then rolls on top of me, trapping me beneath him, and grinds into me, teasing, “For someone who claims they don’t want anything big or extravagant, you chose the wrong man.”
I bust out laughing, and he swallows it when he covers my mouth with his. Grabbing the band to his shorts, I shove them down, needing to be closer than what we are. He’s just as needy when he tugs my panties to the side and makes love to me.
Sex with Micah was something I had to adjust to. When we first started sleeping together, I was coming onto him several times a day—I didn’t know anything different, and everything I had become conditioned to do in my previous relationship was seeping into my current one. Micah would often turn me down, and it took me a while to find contentment in the fact that he only needed sex a few times a week rather than a few times a day.
Lazily, we make love until we’re spent, sated, and then we both drift to sleep.
Ringing pulls me from a sweet dream and has me blindly fumbling around for my phone.
“Dude, it’s fucking early,” Micah groans as he begins to stir.
When my hand lands on my cell, I blink my eyes open to see who’s calling. “It’s my mom,” I tell him before answering.
“Did I wake you?”
“Pretty much,” I grumble. “This better be important.”
“It is.”
As sleepy as I am, there’s no questioning the seriousness in her tone.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as I sit up.
Micah looks at me. “What happened?”
I give him a shrug.
“Years ago you had me make you a promise,” she tells me with worry in her tone. “I’ve tried everything I can on my own, but I need your help.”
“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”
Micah sits up with concern in his eyes.
“Mom, what is it?”
I can hear her exhaust a tense breath before saying, “It’s Kason.”