Page 114 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“What is love, Peter?” I demanded. “Tell me what it is! You said you loved me—you’re standing here telling me you love me now—but at the first sign that something was wrong you got scared and blocked yourself off from me emotionally. You tried to pretend everything was fine when it clearly was not. You wouldn’t talk to me about your concerns. Or mine. You just…became a robot. Because you were afraid you were losing me? That’s ridiculous. Love isn’t about fear, Peter!”

“Of course, love is fear!” Peter rushed forward, putting his face dangerously close to mine again. I refused to be moved. “Maybe it’s not just fear, but fear is a big part of love.”

“That’s the dumbest—”

“How can you love someone if you don’t fear that you’ll lose them every day, damnit?” Peter spat.

As if struck, I recoiled.

“I spent months—months—wondering what I did to you, Enzo. Wondering why you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. Why you wouldn’t just talk to me. Why you wouldn’t open up to me—the man who is supposed to be the most important person in your life, aside from yourself. And you just…you cut me out. Of everything. You suffered alone and pushed me away. You suffered more and pushed me away harder. For what? Pride? Your ego? Embarrassment? I spent months in fear that I was losing you. Because I loved you. I love you. And then you just walked out on me without a word.”

My eyes were suddenly on my feet.

“If I didn’t love you—if I hadn’t loved you—I wouldn’t have been afraid when you stopped talking to me.” Peter sighed and his whole body seemed to deflate. He shook his head and took a step back, removing himself from my space. “Two things I know to be true in this world, Enzo. I love you and it scares the shit out of me every day.”

I stared at my feet and listened as Peter sighed, his shoulders rising and falling. When I said nothing, he stepped back again.

“So,” he said, the fight gone from his voice, “maybe my love isn’t perfect to you. But you don’t understand love like you think you do. If you think I can love you and not also be afraid of losing your love, you’re insane.”

Peter turned and shuffled to the front door, shaking his head. His hand rested on the knob but it wasn’t the thing that turned.

“I guess I know three things to be true in this world,” Peter said, turning his head as I lifted mine, and our eyes met. “I love you. It scares me. And I know that you didn’t marry me because you thought it would be an easy life.”

“Peter—”

“The moment I laid eyes on you, Enzo,” Peter stopped me, “I saw you shout at some asshole vendor under the glow of those paper lanterns—the ones they had hung everywhere at the Autumn festival?”

I nodded my head.

“I hadn’t said a word to you. I didn’t know your name. I knew shit all about you. But I knew at that exact moment that I loved you. It scared me then. Because I knew I was looking at my life. The decades that were laid out ahead of me. And you were in every fucking scene. It was like looking into some psychic’s crystal ball and seeing your future play out in front of you. I saw the minutiae of a boring married life—something I had never been brave enough to dream up before—play out in front of me. And it scared me.”

I stared at him.

“Because I knew if I did anything to lose that vision, to not make it real, I would be making the biggest mistake of my life,” Peter finished. “So…I can’t love you without fear, Enzo. Everything about you scares me because life is tenuous, so every moment of every day there is a chance I’ll lose you.”

“I—”

“You married me because you knew, just as I do, that we met for a reason,” Peter said. “And we both know how much I hate this kind of shit, and I don’t believe in it ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, but you were put here to be mine and I was put here to be yours. Against all reasoning, all of the obstacles that tried to convince us that we should take the easier road, we chose to go through Hell to be together. Because the fear of what we might find was a shit less scary than the fear of losing each other.”

Peter shook his head in frustration.

He sighed. “So, fourth thing I know,” he gave a bitter laugh, “I’ll leave you be, Enzo. I’m not going to try and force you to be with me. I know that isn’t love. But I know that if you ever get your head out of your ass, and stop being so goddamn stubborn, I’ll still love you. And I’ll be waiting. I’ll love you and wait until…well, I guess until I die.”

I snorted, a small, amused laugh escaping my mouth.

“And as I’m a bit older than you, if you could do me a favor and not waste any more fucking time than is absolutely necessary, I’d appreciate it.”

Peter turned and twisted the knob.

“Peter,” I sighed.

“What?” he barked, not bothering to turn back.

Nothing but air whispered between us. After a few moments, Peter let go of the doorknob and turned to me, concern on his face. With no idea of what I wanted to say to him, or how I wanted to say it, I was left staring at Peter’s face. Regardless of what came out of my mouth, I knew I didn’t want him to open the door.

“I still don’t have the words,” I said, “for what I was going through.”

A soft happiness, mixed with sadness, crossed his face.