Page 25 of You Met Me There

Luke: I don’t know. Did you tell her how long you’ll be in town?

This question from Luke is one that works double duty. If I told Jules how long I’m staying, then Luke will learn how long I’ll be gone, giving him hope of me going back to Florida.

Me: I didn’t say. I’m not really sure how long I’ll be here.

Luke: If I was selfless I’d say take as long as you need. But I’m struggling over here without you.

There are three dots blinking below his message. Then another text pops up.

Luke: Remember when we went to Texas and bought that camera to take photos of the Sunshine House?

The Sunshine House. It’s what we called the first house I took pictures of because I couldn’t stop talking about the way the setting sun dropped light through the windows. Even now, I can almost see the sparkle of dust particles floating in the sunbeams.

But everything looks different from behind a camera, where the mundane is bathed in soft light, just waiting to be noticed.

Me: Of course I remember. It’s what started my photography career.

Luke: Do you remember what we did in that house when you finished taking the pictures?

My cheeks warm at the memory. I can’t help but smile. It was a night I’ll never forget.

Me: I remember.

Luke: We’re perfect together, Natalie. When you doubt us, just remember that night. You're the sun that makes my life brighter than anything else could. I need that light. I need you. I love you. Let that be enough.

It hurts my heart to hear him say such kind, wonderful things to me after the way I left. Why is everyone so nice to me? I’m a terrible person, who deserves to be treated horribly for the things I’ve done—the things I’m still doing—to those I love.

A tear slips down my hot cheek as I question why I ever left Florida. My reasons blur behind my eyes to the point that I almost want to hop on a plane and rush back to my husband.

Me: How can you still love me after what I’ve put you through?

Less than three seconds go by before my phone rings and a photo of his pretty blue eyes and blond hair fills the screen. My heart skips.

I sit up against the back of the bed, and answer with a quiet “hi.”

“Because it’s more than a feeling,” Luke’s soothing voice rumbles, settling my nerves with just six words. “I’m choosing to love you, Natalie, like I vowed on our wedding day. It doesn’t matter how much distance you put between us or what struggles we face. I’ll always love you. I’ll always want you.”

“I miss you,” I say softly, the dam breaking in my heart. The stress and anxiety of the last few days flow out. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t know what to do. And now I don’t know anything at all—who I am, where I belong, if any of the choices I’ve ever made were the right ones. Life could have been so different if I hadn’t run away.”

He knows I’m talking about Maple Lake, but I hope he can hear the double meaning behind my words. If I hadn’t run away from him, life would have gone on like normal and I’d have saved us from this heartache.

“Just come home,” he whispers. The sound in my ear sends shivers down my spine.

“I wish I could.” I slink down into the sheets, lifting the covers over my head.

He sighs. “Why can’t you?” he asks. There’s no accusation in his tone.

“Because we want different things. And I still don’t know if I can let go of what I want.”

He hums in thought, and in my mind I can almost see the crease between his brows.

“We can see someone. Talk to someone about our struggles,” he says. “Maybe there’s a way through all this that we don’t understand yet.”

My nose scrunches at the thought of seeing a marriage therapist. I’ve been to therapy for my panic attacks, but never for a relationship. I fear there would be far more of my soul uncovered in a couple’s session than I’d want Luke to see. I’m not a good person, and if he starts to see that … I don’t think I could survive Luke believing that too.

I shake my head under the sheets, causing the fabric to brush gently against my hair. “I don’t know if therapy would help. It can’t make me change my mind on wanting kids.”

“No,” he says, “but maybe it would help me change mine.”