I can’t believe myself. I said it. I said the three doomed words. Ugh. Then again, it’s not that hard to believe I did another stupid thing, digging the knife in deeper. The question keeps lingering in the back of my mind: do I love him? I mean, really, do I?

I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. At least, not how it should be. The last time I said that was back in high school. I told my boyfriend that I loved him, but really, I just wanted someone to be there for me. For once, I wanted someone to protect me.

He did protect me, actually. He was always there for me. But emotions always quickly reveal themselves and we drifted apart not too long after. Now, I’m an adult and you’d think that I would have learned from all my experiences. The thing they don’t tell you about is that you’re always learning, always trying to figure out how to make the right move.

Do you ever fuck up? Constantly. That’s just life. But they don’t tell you that when you’re younger. They make it seem like you’ll have figured everything out by the age of 30. I guess I still have some time to go on that front, right?

The truth is, I’m happy with Marshall. The harsh side of that is knowing it won’t last. If he doesn’t bring me down, I’ll have to drift away, this time on a boat to the other side of the big blue sea. I’ll take on a new name, learn a new language, start my own business, and I’ll never see him again.

I’ve thought it all out. When I’m in my 40’s, I can write to him again. I can tell him who I really was and why I couldn’t let him into my life. I wonder if he’d understand? Now that he’s in love with me, would he stay by my side if he knew who I really was? What does it take for someone to truly understand something like this?

“Don’t go into work today,” I tell him. “Let’s just have the day together. We can get breakfast and coffee. Oh! We could ride your motorcycle to a movie theater and see something. I haven’t seen a movie in so long.”

He smiles and runs his hands in my hair. He’s got this look in his eyes, as if he’s been doing drugs or something. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, with a sly smile. “Just so fucking beautiful.”

“Come on, Marshall!” My heart is full. It feels good to be looked at like this. He actually likes me. He’s not just using me for something. “Let’s do something, dammit!”

“Anything you want, babe,” he says. “I’m suspended, remember? Today’s my vacation from the department.”

“So you’re going to take me to a movie? And breakfast? We’re going to have a day together? A real day together?” I ask him, biting my lip with excitement. He grabs my waist and tickles me, and I scream loud, laughing. “Stop! Stop!” I yell, falling against him.

He stops and we’re both laughing. Soon, he’s holding me tight, like he never is going to let go. We both feel so free now that we’ve told each other how we feel. It’s like we’ve both had all this emotion pent up for decades and we’ve finally been allowed to let it all go.

“Yes,” he says. “Breakfast. Coffee. A movie. Anything. You name it, honestly. I just feel blessed I get to be next to you right now,” he says. “I’m really not worthy.”

“Trust me,” I say, glancing down at the mattress. “I’m the one who’s not worthy.”

I gulp down and he can see that I’m a little sad. He kisses the top of my head and breathes in. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?” he finally asks. “You haven’t done anything to warrant that kind of outlook.”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “I guess I just feel that way sometimes, like I’m not good enough, you know?”

“I understand,” he says, but he really doesn’t. He has no idea. He’s made some pretty good choices, overall. All of my life choices have been utter shit.

“Shit, who am I kidding,” he chuckles. “I don’t understand at all. You’re the most beautiful, complex, and eye-opening human being I’ve ever met. Usually people as great as you get down a lot. It’s like part of being a genius I guess.”

“A genius?” I stare at him. A small smile is forcing its way across my face. Dammit, he’s making me feel good again, like he always does. “I think you got the wrong girl, partner.”

“Nah, you’re a genius, alright. You can see them from a mile away,” he says. “I’m just lucky to be dumb enough to bump into you at a bar.”

“I think you’re a genius too,” I say. “How else are you so good at catching criminals?”

He starts laughing. I feel his fingers trail across my body until they stop, enclosing around mine. “I’m the equivalent of a fisherman. That’s all, really,” he says. “I wait. I throw some bait out in the water. And I hope to God that I get a nibble. Anyone could do it. You just have to be able to handle getting shot every now and then.”

“You’ve gotten shot?” I say with surprise.

“Ha, yeah. Nothing special,” he says, beginning to stand up. “Take a close look at my ass and my thigh.”

“Oh my God,” I can’t help but laugh. I look at his butt and there it is, a big old scar on his right cheek. There’s one a bit lower as well. “You got shot in the ass?!”

“An unlucky shot,” he says.

“Or lucky. At least it wasn’t in the gut,” I say.

“Yeah, but then I’d have something to brag about at least,” he winks. “Nah, I’m pretty lucky. You’re right.”

“Well, even if you’re not Einstein, you’re still my hero,” I blush.

I quickly kiss his cheek and smile. I’m feeling so many things for this man that it’s starting to scare me now. I just want to dive into it. For once, I don’t want to have to think. So, for now, I won’t allow myself to. I’ll just go with it. And if it all explodes, taking me down, so be it. That’s the life I’ve chosen.

* * *

“Man, I loved it,” he says, still eating from the popcorn bag. “I just can’t believe that ending.”

“You were crying, Marshall. I saw it,” I laugh. “Don’t try to deny it.”

“I didn’t cry,” he blushes. “I got butter in my damn eye. I swear.”

“You cried! There were tears rolling down those cheeks,” I say. I have my arms around him as we walk. The smell of his cologne is so tantalizing. It smells like, well, love. Everything I imagined love to be, anyway. Movies, cologne, popcorn, the feeling of excitement that resonates from the pit of my stomach. It all feels so perfect right now. Like, maybe I wouldn’t have to go to Europe to start a new life. Maybe I could start a new life right here, with him.

There’s a sense of nostalgia attached to this. I haven’t been to the mall in forever, let alone seen a movie. I could never really afford it. However, when I was younger, it was like a ritual for my friends and I. I thought I’d never get to experience things like this again. I always just figured that it was for one time in my life only. But that’s what love does I guess. It brings you back to the basics, while opening you up to even newer memories. It’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt, and that’s what scares me the most.

“Alright, dammit. I cried!” he laughs. “I cried so damn hard.”

“I knew it!” I scream with laughter. “I caught you.”

He kisses me. “Why did Derrick have to leave Jessica!? It was so stupid and selfish,” he says.

“But they fixed things,” I giggle.

“Oh man, that hit hard. When he stood under her window for three days, soaking wet from the winter rain… that killed me, man,” he says. “There’s not a love more pure.”

“You’re such a softie,” I say. I feel like a regular girl right now. I feel normal. All my life, I’ve stood on the outside. But right now, everything is perfect. With Marshall, I’m on top of the world.

“I guess I am,” he admits. But the truth always has a way of rearing its ugly head back in. “God, I don’t want to have to go into the station tomorrow. The kid’s not talking and the whole thing just makes me go crazy.”

We get on the bike and he starts the engine. “Please don’t bring that up, right now,” I beg him. “It’s just us tonight, remember?”

“Sorry,” he says, but it’s in this absent way that lets me know he’s still thinking about it. Deep down, he’s not a softie. He’s a cop. He will always be a cop. What do cops do? They put their wives through hell because the job is their life.

We take off back to his house, but I’m already planning on going home. I can’t take another night of suspense, or of feeling like he might suddenly come to the conclusion that I’m the girl he’s looking for. It’s just too much on my mind and body.

Oddly enough, when we get back and I tell him I have to go, he doesn’t put up a fight. Instead, he just says, “Okay, darlin’,” as if he already assumed I would leave in the first place. No, it’s like he wants me gone. He wants to mull over this damn case so badly, that it actually makes me want to stay. No doubt, he’s going to be scouring the internet for anything related to a woman bank robber in this county. I don’t know how great his detective skills are, but if he throws the right bait, I’m fucked.

Tonight was the best night of my life. Sometimes, you just have to leave it at that and move on.