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The sky is blue today, not a single cloud in sight. It’s not a sight you see often in the PNW and I try not to think of it as a good sign. I lift my face to the sky, close my eyes, and bask in it while I sit on the porch and wait for Jake.

He went to rehab just like he promised he would, and he gets to come home today. This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since we met, because I have chosen not to attend any of the family sessions I have been invited to. I told him I needed space, but I just wasn’t ready to face him. Still, he’s done everything he said he would. A part of me wanted to believe I’d be okay without him, that I could go on with my life and find peace without him in it. But the truth is, I haven’t.

When his car finally pulls into the driveway, my stomach is swarming with butterflies, and I can't tell if I'm nervous or actually excited to see him after so long. My heart races as I watch him step out, his movements slow, almost deliberate, like he’s not sure what comes next either.

“Hey,”

he smiles, but it’s small, hesitant, as he walks up to me with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.”

I smile back, and we stand there awkwardly for a minute before I get the nervous giggles. "I'm sorry I didn't go to any of the sessions you invited me to.”

“That’s okay. You weren't ready,”

he says as he finally reaches the porch.

“So,”

he clears his throat, “Are you okay with me being here?”

“I think so.”

“Take all the time you need,”

he assures me, “I’m not going anywhere. We can take this one step at a time, at whatever speed you need.”

He steps up to me with a brow raised and opens his arms, leaving the decision to me. I smile and shake my head as I walk into them.

“Where’s Damian?”

he asks, his voice muffled against my head while he holds me.

“At my parents. They thought we’d like some time alone.”

I tell him. My mom picked Damian up an hour ago so we could have a night to talk and work things out.

“Good. I missed him, but I'm glad we have some time to ourselves.”

His hold on me tightens, and I feel him nodding against my hair before letting me go.

The truth is, I’m more than just glad. I’m relieved. I’m scared. I’m hopeful. Everything is still so confusing.

“I made your favorite, spaghetti, if you're hungry?”

I ask and nod to the house.

“Starving.”

He smiles, a real smile this time, as he takes my hand and we walk inside.

There’s a church around the corner Jake walks to every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, and we quickly fall into a new routine. He sees his counselor once a week and even invites me to a few sessions.

I don't attend meetings with him, but I do go to every therapist appointment he invites me to. He shares things there that he’s never shared with me, and even though there are absolutely no excuses for his behavior, I understand him a little more with each session. The pieces slowly click into place. He talks about his childhood and his struggles with feeling out of control.

Sober Jake is happy Jake, and happy Jake makes me happy. So, when the wedding date quickly approaches, and Jake asks me if we’re still getting married, I say yes. Because despite everything, I still want this—us.