I had one day left with Christian before I had to fly to North Carolina to retrieve my car and head back to school. Ideally, I would’ve spent it in bed with him, but when I woke up the next morning, reality started to sink in, and he immediately detected a shift in my mood. I didn't get a monthly period, but because I still had my ovaries I was subject to the same hormonal mood swings that most females dealt with. But something inside told me it wasn't hormones. This was all me.

We’d just finished the big breakfast he'd pre-ordered from room service the night before. Instead of making love, I slunk off to the bathroom while he made a phone call to his parole officer. It was the first time I hadn’t invited him to shower with me, and after finishing his conversation and giving it more thought, he barged into the bathroom, his eyes more concerned than accusing.

I’d just turned off the shower and pulled the curtain back. When I realized why he’d rushed in, I told him, “I would've locked the door if I was purging.”

He gave me a half grin before getting serious. “What’s going on, Mimi?”

I shrugged my shoulders, dried myself, and bent over to wrap my hair in a towel. When I stood up, he’d walked toward me and said, “You can tell me.”

I pulled one of his clean shirts over my head, struggling to get the towel through the neck opening. He helped me and when our eyes met, he asked, “Is it Lucas? Are you worried about having to go back and deal with him?”

“Lucas,” I scoffed. “I can handle Lucas.”

“What is it, baby?”

“I’m torn, Christian,” I told him. I thought I saw a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes. Concern, worry, anger. Love.

I skirted around him and left the bathroom. I could feel him behind me. Once I got to the adjoining room, I flopped down on the small sofa, crossed my legs, and looked up at him.

“I can’t remember the last time I was so happy,” I confessed.

He smiled, his relief obvious. “Torn over what then?”

I took a deep breath. “That it’s all an illusion.” I remembered my mother’s words about the honeymoon phase of a relationship. They haunted me. “That I’ll go back to school and you’ll go back to work, and we’ll get so caught up in real life that this will seem like a dream.” I looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Has it all been just a dream for you, Mimi?” he asked, his voice calmer than I’d expected.

“Yes, but the best dream I’ve ever had, Christian. I don’t know how you and I will handle real life. All we’ve done together is make love, ride the motorcycle, spend time with our families, and shoot some pool at The Alibi. And it’s been the best time of my life.”

“Are you thinking that after you graduate and so-called real life kicks in, we won’t have anything in common? Nothing to keep us anchored?”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at him sadly. “I don’t want to think that, but it’s a possibility.” I didn’t want to tell him that other than the things I’d mentioned, I was wondering what kinds of activities we would do together. It was as if he was reading my mind.

“What kinds of things did you do with Lucas?”

“Studied, went out to eat, went to the movies. I would go to his games.”

“Mimi, I’m sure we’ll go out to eat and to the movies.” He gave me a crooked smile before adding, “I highly doubt I’ll ever have an occasion to study with you.” He paused and his brows furrowed. “But I’d shovel shit for the rest of my life if I knew that when I got home at night, you’d be there. Even if you wanted to sit on the couch and watch TV, that would be good enough for me. I want to be with you, no matter what we’re doing.” He gave a thoughtful pause before adding, "Or not doing. My love for you isn't based on a list of things we do or don't have in common."

“You’re right,” I told him. “I feel the same way. I’m just overthinking.”

He sat next to me, and made me extend my legs so he could drape them over his lap. I leaned back against the arm of the sofa and watched as he caressed my thigh. He gave me a serious look and said, "Say them."

"Say what?" I asked, not sure what he was talking about.

"Our vows," he answered softly. "We've said them to each other every night since we stayed at the rental house. Say them again this morning."

I smiled at him, and a love so intense filled my chest, it warmed my blood. Christian had insisted on repeating our spur-of-the moment vows every single day, and now I knew why. At first, I had a hard time remembering them, but he had a memory like an elephant, and helped me fill in the blanks. "You have to go first," I prompted. "You always go first."

After the last words, tears swelled in my eyes, and one formed, overflowing and trickling down my left cheek. Sitting with my legs across his lap, lost in the depths of his soulful blue eyes, the words caused a physical reaction in my chest. The same feeling I'd had on the deck that night when we'd first recited them. Knowing that our impromptu oaths hadn't been rehearsed, but came straight from our hearts that night in the snow, only validated them further. Warmed by the memory, I knew once again where I belonged, and any doubt or conflicted emotions I thought I'd had no longer existed.

"Thank you for reminding me," I said before bringing his hand to my mouth and kissing his rough knuckles.

"I'll always remind you," he said with a smile.

He casually removed my legs from his lap and stood up. "C'mon," he said, extending his hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Not to a study session," he said with a smirk.

"You can't hurt me, Mimi. Harder!" Christian yelled as I did my best to punch the heck out of the pads he’d strapped around his forearms and was holding up in front of me.

"I'm not used to having gloves on. It feels weird,” I whined.

We were in the back room of a gym run by one of Christian’s friends. I'd rolled my eyes when we’d first pulled up. I'd confessed to him early on that I was not a fan of exercise, so I’d hoped maybe we were there so he could lift weights, something that had never interested me either. Of course, I wouldn't mind watching him pump iron. Me? I'd rather lie naked in a bed of fire ants.

I went at him with everything I had, but it still wasn't enough. He continued to push me until I was on the brink of exhaustion, my shirt saturated with sweat. I slowed down attempting to catch my breath. He knew I needed to rest and stopped prompting me for a minute.

When I got my second wind, he suggested, "Think about something or someone who makes you mad. It'll give you a reason to come at me, Mimi."

Left jab. Right cross. Thump-thump! I didn’t know what I was doing but at least he’d told me what the hits were called.

"You're not focusing," he barked. "Aim for the middle of the pads."

Left. Right. Whack-whack! I started to like the strong thudding sound my gloves were making.

"C'mon, baby. Who or what pisses you off the most?"

Left. Right. Getting faster.

"Ed does." My voice came out hoarse.

Left and right in more rapid succession.

"What did this Ed do to make you mad?" he goaded.

When I didn't answer, Christian probed further. "Did Ed steal your lunch money when you were a kid? Tease you in high school? Run you off the road?"

"He says horrible things to me," I panted.

Christian broke my rhythm by grabbing both my wrists.

"Who the fuck is Ed?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Pulling my arms from his grasp, I took a step back and rested my hands on my hips. "Ed isn't a real person. It's what I call my eating disorder."

He nodded, and after readjusting the pads on his forearms, held them up. "You wanna beat the fuck out of Ed?"

"More than anything."

I saw the challenge in his eyes. “Let’s go. Don’t stop.”

Left. Right.

"Your arms are getting tired. Push through it, Mimi."

Left and right. Hitting harder.

"Why do you hate Ed so much?" he pushed.

Left and right. Harder.

"Because of the things he says to me and how it makes me feel," I sputtered.

"Keep going. You're doing great.”

Jab and a cross.

"What does Ed say to you, baby?"

"He says I'm weak." It came out in a squeak.

"What else does he tell you?"

"He says I'm ugly." It was barely a whisper. I was utterly breathless and already spent.

Jab and a cross.

"He tells me I'm a failure," I huffed.

"Pretend I'm Ed, baby. Give me your best. Hit me anywhere."

"If you were really Ed I'd hit you below the belt. Like he hits me." My voice was a low growl.

"If you hit me where you want to hit Ed, you lessen your chance of us making love again before you leave tonight."

He was right so I went for his jaw, but he dodged me easily.

"You need to channel the anger, Mimi," he said with a lazy smile. "Or you’re wasting your energy."

I bent over and placed both gloved hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I looked up at him sideways and said, "You're purposely…trying to rile me. Trying…to make me mad."

"Yep. Doesn't it feel good?" he asked, as he bent and placed his hand on my back.

"Doesn't what feel good?" I stood up straight and leaned backwards, trying to stretch.

"Using all that energy to beat the shit out of Ed and let him know he's not gonna win this fight or any fight with you?" he said as he stood up straight.

I smiled as I wheezed. "Yeah…it kinda does."