Worth the Trouble ✓

epilogue

"Mommy," Cassie says, stirring when the lullaby decelerates and peters out.

"Hi, baby. Go to sleep." Suki pulls the puppy's tail long and puts it back into the bassinet, the lullaby starting all over again.

Lowly, I whisper, "I swear, the day she calls me Dad or something, I will just dissolve. I won't know how to handle it."

Reaching down to brush Cassie's eyes closed, Suki quips, "Well, that's no good. She'll miss you if you dissolve."

"And you?"

"Yes," she chuckles, flicking my cheek on our way out. "I would also miss you if you inexplicably dissolved into thin air. But maybe the mental break would claim me first."

"Just checking." At the front door, I don't even hurry to pull my shoes on and get my jacket. It's a lost cause. My phone tells me the bus has already departed, so I'll just have to wait for the next one. I'm going to get home so late.

I walk the familiar path to the bus stop, but fifteen minutes later I spot someone briskly approaching in the pale darkness of twilight and throw a guard up. The tall trees cast obsidian shadows against the sky, while the road is illuminated by regular spotlights of orange. Most of the houses along here have either gone to bed for the night or shut their curtains; all windows dark. A shiver rolls down my spine. The person's silhouette is hard to read, until Suki gets closer and I realize she's wrapped herself in a big cardigan and wrapped her arms around that.

I call her on my phone, unsure if I should be worried. "Hey," I say when she picks up, still too far away to see her face. "Just waiting for the next bus. Is everything okay?"

"You didn't say goodbye," she teases, her voice oddly strained.

"Yes, I did," I answer, confused. I squint, but it's too dark to see if she's upset or just playing a joke on me or what. She's never walked me out to the bus station before, either; it's real close, real easy to find, and this is too quiet a neighborhood to warrant much worry. "I always make sure I say goodbye."

One second and she's close enough to hear—"Brutal honesty," I remind her, hanging up the call—one more second and she's close enough to see in sharp relief—steps heavy, eyes red-lined and watery under the streetlights.

Four years we've known each other, yet it took me this long to be able to read her like a book. Which I think I can do now. Suki was right about the pedestal thing. I've felt closer to her these last four months than the past four years and all it took was admitting that she's not perfect at all, she might or might not be the love of my life, and that she hurt the fuck out of me.

But she's still the one I want.

A rush of air exits her lungs, half defeated sigh and half incredulous exhale. She repeats, "Brutal honesty?"

"Please."

Another second and Suki's close enough to touch, walking right into me, pressing her face into my collarbone. My hands slide to her upper back, brushing against the satiny curtain of her loose hair, the scratchy wool of the cardigan.

She holds me with both arms strung loosely around my shoulders, saying, "I'm just scared this will ruin the dynamic we have right now. I don't want Cassie caught in a crossfire. Now it's good. It's stable. You make me unstable," which means she's been reading me just as well.

"Sorry about that. I was trying not to let on."

"I know." Her laugh is wet with tears. "This is a bit twisted, but I always thought between the two of us I was the better person but you were the better partner. I'm shit at loving people on the same playing field as me."