Page 48 of The Time It Takes

"I know," I told him. And I did. I just felt strange and not quite present.

He massaged his forehead. "Maybe we don't talk to her, next time. If there is a next time. Maybe I'll do a better job and head her off. And maybe I won't be trying to carry a huge piece of furniture, too."

"Sure," I said, my voice cracking, "now it's huge. It was a tiny end table at first."

"That was before I carried it across an antique mall," he said, and moved to me and put his arms around me. I let him and leaned against him. He didn't feel like a brick wall now. He just felt like Arlie—big, strong, sturdy, and safe. I held onto him, and he held onto me.

Onions and burger sizzled in the pan, for the taco salad I'd been starting. They smelled nice. After bit, Arlie reached past me and turned off the stove.

He rubbed my back with one big, gentle hand. "I really hate her, you know?"he said conversationally. "I've tried not to. I guess I failed at that. She could always destroy your confidence with surgical precision. Apparently, she still can. I don't think I'll ever forgive her for that."

"I'll be all right," I told him. "It was just a surprise."

"Sure."

"I don't want you to see me as weak," I admitted. "Hell, I don't want tobeweak."

"You're not," he said. "But she hurt you an awful lot, didn't she?"

I didn't say anything to that.

Eventually, the hug ended. We finished making the meal together, side by side, careful of each other, quiet, not saying much. The food was good.

I felt more real after we ate. And when we went to bed together that night, that helped, too. He held me, after, and breathed against my skin.

#

Iended up talkingit all through in therapy, of course. Apparently I still had a lot to work through about Darby. As much as I wanted to put the incident behind me, it had been important. I'd actually come out to Darby—since we'd both known what I meant—and her poor reaction hadn't been the end of the world. I'd survived it.

I felt a little more confident that I'd be able to tell my family over Christmas. If they didn't take it well, it would be different from how it had been with Darby, but still hard. I'd survive it, though.

I still wasn't sure how much we should say at work. Arlie said if people were willing to believe we were just friends—friends who lived together now—he didn't feel like setting them straight.

"Straight, eh?"I said, and grinned at him.

"You know what I mean." He waved a hand vaguely, but he grinned back, and then caught me in a hug.

I loved it when Arlie hugged me. Especially when I didn't feel like I deserved it. It was nice to be loved so unconditionally.

He'd be by my side when I told my parents. I was beginning to think he'd always be here. Because he loved me so much, it was easier not to despise myself. Some days, I could look in the mirror and not feel ashamed, not feel like I wasn't good enough.

Some days, I was kind of proud of myself for figuring out who I was. For getting my happy ending. It wasn't what I'd pictured for so many years—a beautiful woman by my side—but it was better, and more real, than that daydream had ever been. It was Arlie and me, a wonderful team.

Maybe the whole living together thing gave us away. Or maybe we were different together at work. Either way, our coworkers didn't call us out on it, but things change just enough to make us realized we might be a bit of an open secret. Janet from the mailroom actually stopped flirting with me. She hadn't even done that while I was with Darby.

It was a relief to realize we might not have to come out officially unless we wanted to. I liked to think someday I would be brave, confident, healed. But it had taken so long to get this far, each of us figuring out who we were and what we wanted. We clearly took time to grow and change. I was starting to learn to honor that—the fact that I was going at my own pace—and not despise myself for it.

I realized I didn't dream much these days. I almost never had that old dream about the cliffs. On the rare occasions I went back to that place in my dreams—that old familiar, horrible place—it wasn't the same. I wasn't trying to balance on the cliff. I was down on the beach, playing in the water with my wolf. My partner, at work, in life, and in love.

Those were good dreams. But being awake—sharing the real world with him—that was even better.