31. Dalton

THIRTY-ONE

I walk in the door, exhausted from a hard workout. The only thing on my mind is finding Dia and wrapping her in my arms while we lounge on the couch together. I take off my shoes, kicking them out of the way, and set my keys on the table in the entryway. The house is uncharacteristically quiet for this time of day. Usually, she's either dancing around with the music blasting, or I'll hear the shower running from the primary bathroom.

"Dia?" I yell, pausing to listen for a reply.

I round the corner, checking the kitchen. It's a little late for her to be having breakfast, but not completely uncommon for her to be sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal while she scrolls on her phone. When I see that the room is empty, I turn, walking back toward the hallway. "Wifey! You home?" I try again. I check the bedroom first, pushing the door open to find it dark and quiet. The bed is made and it looks like nobody has been here in a while.

I peek into the bathroom, already knowing that it's empty, as well. I start to panic when I think that she may have walked to the dance studio by herself. I know my wife is a strong, independent woman, but that doesn't mean that I want her all alone walking the busy streets of Boston. I keep telling her to take my car, but she puts up a pretty good fight every time I offer.

I get more and more anxious with every empty room I encounter. Thinking maybe I missed something, I return to the living room, but she's still nowhere in sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a piece of paper on the sofa table. I guess she did leave without telling me her plans for the day, but at least there's a note. A wave of relief washes over me as I walk over to it, picking it up and reading it.

My heart sinks in my chest as I clutch the paper in my hand. I fall to my knees, gripping my hair and letting out an agonizing cry as the signed divorce papers flutter to the floor beside me.

She's gone.

I wakeup in a cold sweat, my pulse pounding like a drum between my ears. I reach over to Dia's side of the bed, finding it empty and cold. I immediately sit up, panic taking over every one of my senses as I quickly move from the bed and run down the hall. Unlike in the nightmare I just had, I find my wife sitting on the couch, phone in hand, like everything is right in the world.

And it is. For now.

Today marks six weeks since we legally moved in together. We are officially allowed to file for a divorce. I know there's no way in hell that it'll be me making that move, because it's the furthest thing from what I want. The time Dia and I have spent together just solidified that I want to be married to her for the rest of my life.

It's been almost a week since her little slip up on the phone. I know she didn't mean to say she loved me right then, but I don't believe for a second that she didn't mean the words when she said them. And I definitely meant them when I said them back. It felt like a million pounds had lifted off my chest when I finally got to let them out. The fact that she said them first made me feel like the luckiest man to ever walk this planet. But I know that scared her. That's why I haven't said them again or even addressed the situation. When she wants to talk about it, she will.

I've been counting down the days until today. Not because I wanted it to come, but because I was dreading it. I've had nightmares almost every night this week about her leaving me, and I wake up every time to her still here. But what happens now that she's free to go?

"Morning, baby. You're up early today," I say, sitting down next to her and pressing my lips to her warm cheek. She smiles in response, setting her phone down so she can turn and kiss me properly. I take it in, enjoying the moment as she opens her mouth, allowing me to push my tongue inside. I swallow her desperate moans as she grips onto my t-shirt to keep me close. I love when she's like this. It's these moments where I can feel what she feels, even if she has trouble saying it out loud sometimes. I feel my body relax a little, because these certainly don't seem like the actions of a woman who has her running shoes laced up and is headed out the door. As a matter of fact, she seems even more clingy this morning than she normally is.

Zero complaints out of me for that.

"Morning," she says, pulling away. But it doesn't feel right not having some type of physical connection to her, so I grab her by the hips and pull her so she's straddling my lap. I'm not trying to make things sexual. I just want her as close as possible right now. I know that we'll eventually need to talk about what's going to happen going forward, but I'm trying to process what this could mean for us.

I've been in my own head all week, trying to slow down time and make this day not come at all. I was imagining the worst. Me coming out here to her dressed and ready to end our marriage. And what would that mean for us? Does getting divorced mean that there's no hope for us in the future? Or is it the marriage alone that scares her? These are all questions I want to ask, but right now, it feels like we're living in a house of cards. One wrong move, and the whole thing could collapse with us inside.

"What are your plans for the day?" I ask her. I'm half expecting her to remind me that we need to go back to the courthouse, but she's acting as if she doesn't even realize what day it is. Or maybe I'm just making a bigger deal out of it than it actually is.

"Not sure," she replies. "We could go to the Mr. Burger drive-through and eat in the parking lot at the beach. I kind of want to get out of here for a little bit, but I also want to keep you to myself." She pops a shoulder. "That seems like a good way to do it."

I smile at her. "You're right. That's the best idea I've ever heard." Maybe I am overthinking this whole thing. We've been getting along so well, and now that I know that she loves me back, maybe we're just going to bypass this whole day and treat it like any other one. I'll admit though, it's hard not to have everything playing in the back of my mind. But as long as she's here, I'll be right next to her.

I'm sure it would freak her out if I said it out loud, but I've been putting a lot of thought into what the future will look like if she decides to give us a real shot at marriage. My wheels have been turning for weeks and I've got a lot of big changes on the horizon, depending on what Dia does this week. But I want to prove to her that I'm all in on this. I was the day I married her, and I will be until the day I die.

I stand from the couch, taking her with me as I walk toward the bedroom. She throws her head back in a carefree laugh as I give her heart-shaped ass a squeeze, and I can't help but admire the way she's grown since she's been here. Even if she leaves, as much pain as it would bring me, I'll eventually be able to breathe knowing that she's stronger and more confident than ever. I'll be proud to watch her stand on her own two feet, even if I have to do it from far away.

"Let's take a shower and we'll get out of here," I tell her, setting her on the counter in the bathroom while I turn on the tap. I take her in as steam fills the room and I'm reminded of our first night here. She was nervous and rigid as I washed her tired body with no intentions of taking anything physical from her. I didn't even want to that night, which was certainly off-brand for the old Dalton. But, as soon as I became her husband, it's like I had a direct line to her subconscious. I knew exactly what she needed, and I just somehow had the ability to give it. It's not something she was used to, and her discomfort was painfully obvious when she realized it wasn't a sexual connection I was after. But here we are now, six weeks later, and we've made it part of our daily routine. It's become a part of her healing, and I'll never be able to thank her enough for choosing me to be the one she let into the heart she swore she'd keep closed.

All I've ever wanted was her love and trust. And now that I have it, I'm praying to God that she doesn't take it all away.