Page 133 of Lyric Squared

It was Sunday and we were scheduled to be at Luca’s for dinner tonight. However, Lyric wasn’t ready to escape the bubble we’d been in for the last two weeks. I called to let her parents and her brothers know. It felt good being open and honest with them about what was going on in our world.

With the spoon up to her mouth, she whipped her head from one direction to the other. She’d traded her silk pajama pieces for an oversized tee of mine. Still, she was beautiful.

“And your… KISS.”

She ran the distance, eliminating the space between us. Her lips pressed against mine before she backed away, continuing to entertain me as I seared the chicken on each side.

Since she’d gotten from the hospital, she hadn’t lifted a finger. I made her a fresh meal every night. I washed her body every day. I helped her into her clothes. And I kept her skin moisturized. Not because she still needed me to, but because it was my pleasure.

Breathlessly, she stared at me as the song ended. I couldn’t help but laugh. Her inner child was revealing herself, which let me know a few things.

She felt safe.

She felt secure.

She felt loved.

She felt good.

I wasn’t sure what emotions the night would bring as we laid in bed together, but that didn’t matter right now.

“You tired yet?”

She nodded, attempting to catch her breath.

“Good. Sit down at the table. The food is ready.”

She complied, grabbing her wine and taking off toward the table. Somehow, she felt so far away. I platted both pieces of chicken and used the liquid in the pan to top it off. It accompanied broccoli mash and baked macaroni. Per Lyric’s request, I tossed in some cornbread. It had been a minute since she’d last had some.

Two glasses of water later and I was headed toward her, hands full and heart fuller. We’d lost our child, but we’d gained something that was indescribable.

Freedom.

Lyric stood to help. She grabbed both plates, allowing me to sit both glasses of water down. As she did the same with the plates, I took my seat. With a wide smile, she stared at me.

“It smells and looks good.”

“I hope you like it,” I admitted. “Give me your hand.”

She intertwined our fingers and bowed her head. So did I.

“Father God, thank you for strengthening us during this time. Thank you for keeping us safe and keeping us sane. Lord, bless this food and bless my family. Bless the woman who will be my wife and bless the womb that will bear my children. We have the faith, Lord. We will handle our fruit with care. We are ready to harvest. We are ready to have everything You promised. Amen.”

When I opened my eyes, Lyric was staring at me with tears in hers.

I chuckled, “You know– I’m beginning to realize you’re just a ball of mush.”

She slapped my arm. “Shut up.”

“I love it, though. I love you.”

“You have no other choice.” She reminded me.

“I had a choice. I chose.”

“Wisely, huh?”

I agreed. “Very. Now I get to watch you cry fifteen times a week.”