Page 47 of Never Not Yours

It’s been a year since Tacoon. Sinceher.

Olivia and I have spoken a few times, polite, surface-level, careful. Texts about the project, a quick check-inaround the holidays, one call on my birthday that lasted three minutes, but wrecked me for days. She sounded good. Happy, even. And that’s what I wanted for her, wasn’t it?

I still catch myself thinking about her sometimes when I’m driving home, when a song that she loved comes on, when I see something that would’ve made her laugh. The ache isn’t sharp anymore. It’s just… there.

I haven’t dated. Not really. I’ve gone through the motions, a few dinners, a few polite conversations that never turn into anything. Because the truth is, no one’s her.

And I don’t deserve her. Maybe not yet, maybe not ever. But that doesn’t change what’s true. I’m still in love with her. Always have been. Probably always will be.

For now, I focus on the things I can build, my girls, my work, and myself. I try to become the kind of man she wouldn’t have to heal from again. But some nights, when the house is still, and I’m the only one awake, I let myself imagine what it would feel like to see her again. To tell her that I’m finally ready, not to start over, but to keep going. Together.

Because after everything, after all the years and mistakes and distance, one thing hasn’t changed.

I’ve loved this womanfor over twenty years.

And I know that in twenty more,I’ll still feel exactly the same.