Page 60 of Destroyed With You

“Really, Miriam, it’s okay.” I mean the words. I really do, but I’m grateful when Winston steers me out of the room. “We’re going to unpack,” he tells his mom.

“I’m sorry,” he says once we’re in his old bedroom, with the door closed behind us. “She’s just deep in the grandparent zone.”

“I know. It’s okay. Really.”

He nods, still looking frustrated. Then he draws in a breath. “Dammit, I know I should drop it. But now I have to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“You used Michelle as your alias. Michelle Moon. The last name I understand—hell, I even like it, despite the gun-for-hire part.”

I roll my eyes, but he continues.

“You were the moon to my Starr, right? But what should I think about Michelle?”

I close my eyes, then nod. “I know. I didn’t mean for it to hurt you. Hell, I never thought you’d hear it.”

Right before I had to leave, he and I had been planning our family. And although I wasn’t pregnant yet, we were trying. And we’d decided that if we had a little girl, we would name her Michelle.

“I don’t know why I decided to use it,” I say. “Except maybe, maybe it was something I didn’t want to give up.”

I meet his eyes as I speak, but as soon as the words leave me, I look away.

“Well, then. Okay.” He clears his throat. “And I am sorry if Mom made you uncomfortable.”

“No, really. It’s fine. She’s happy I’m back. She wants the family to be all healed.”

He looks at me. “The family.”

I glance down at the floor. “That’s what she wants.”

“You’re probably right,” he says. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed. “And what is the status with the family?”

It’s subtle, but I hear the edge in his voice.

“You’re asking me big questions,” I tell him.

“I want what we had,” he says. “There. I’m laying it on the table.”

“Except you can’t have it,” I counter. “I’m not the wife who makes cookies and has a garden.”

He laughs, surprising me.

“What?”

“You had a garden. I felt sorry for those vegetables.”

Despite myself, I laugh, too. “Okay, so that part of me you do know.” We share a grin before I look down. “Seriously, I’m not a homemaker. And you aren’t just a sheriff in a small town.”

“And I’m saying none of that matters. That external stuff doesn’t change the internal. Lots of people can’t tell their spouse the details of their jobs. Some spouses don’t want them to. They still love each other.”

“Don’t,” I say. “Please. Don’t you get it? I had Nirvana with you. What if we try again and it all falls apart? Then I lose those memories, too.”

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared.”

“I get it,” he says, as he comes closer and takes my hands in his. “But you need to understand.”