Page 188 of We Drank the Dawn

I even started seeing a therapist. Turns out, I had some untended childhood trauma to sort through and my therapist helped me learn the difference between loyalty and codependency. Between toxic people and struggling people. Between the way Mom loved Dad and I loved Peter. She also helped me pinpoint my learned tendency to enable and helped me build safeguards against it.

And Peter went back to therapy, too. This time, he was much more forthcoming about the fears he struggled with and Dr. Bates helped him realize that fear is physiological and psychological and having an imbalance in one or the other can exacerbate the problem. Dr. Bates talked to Peter’s neurologist and together they made tweaks in his medication schedule. We didn’t realize Peter’s meds were making his journey even harder than it needed to be.

His mental health improved month by month.

And mine did, too.

Butterflies erupted in my belly as I looked up at him. When I think back to those early days when we walked the school halls with stars in our eyes, I laugh at us. We thought it was so good then, didn’t we? Like we’d peaked in our love.

How foolish. How young.

The cycle of endless night and day had weathered us and fused us together. Time had softened our edges like the fraying creases on a special letter—familiar, comforting, and so very beloved.

All of the trial and darkness had taught us what real love really looks like and made us brighter somehow.

Butterflies erupted again and a soft gasp escaped my lips. Wait—maybe that was the baby. I was twenty weeks gestation now, so that could have been baby flutters.

I suppressed a squeak of excitement.

I’d have to tell Peter.

“How about this, Tim?” Peter sat forward, propping his folded arms on the edge of his desk. “If it’s easier for you, you can take all your paperwork to Becky at the firm and she’ll scan it in so I can access it there. That might feel less daunting than using the portal.”

I smiled at him, warmth blooming in my chest.

He was the best CPA in the world. I would fight someone on that.

“Well, that is a fantastic idea,” Tim said. “What’s the firm’s address again? I’m gonna write it down real quick.”

As Peter rattled off the address, I enacted my plan. Crawling forward, I lifted my hand to drop a special item on his lap, making sure my hand stayed below the desk so Tim wouldn’t see. But when my fingers brushed Peter’s thigh, he startled and grabbed my hand, his voice staying surprisingly steady as he listed the city and zip code. My other hand slapped over my lips, frantically stifling the giggle that leaked through my nose.

When he realized it was just me, his grip loosened and I left my gift for him.

Tim started talking about a form he still needed to fill out.

Peter’s hand dropped to his thigh, his fingers meeting the tiny strips of lace on said gift. For a second, he rubbed them between his thumb and index finger, a slight frown touching his brow.

When he realized what it was, his face exploded with scarlet heat, and his voice caught on an unbidden laugh.

I buried my forehead in the carpet, wheezing helplessly into the fibers.

With blurry eyes, I jerked my head back up, needing to see how this played out.

My Peter was suddenly antsy, scratching his forehead and rubbing the back of his neck. He pressed his lips together, fighting for his life not to disintegrate with laughter. “Yeah, Tim—uh huh. Well, I need to⁠—”

“Oh, one last question for you.”

Peter’s jaw feathered, his fist clenching the precious fabric in agitation.

My eyes leaked tears.

I wanted to scream, Okay, Tim. Wrap it up. Email your questions to Becky!

As Tim drug out the goodbyes, Peter’s eyes glazed over. His heel started bouncing against the bottom of his chair. The angst this was causing? I couldn’t have asked for better.

“Alright. Sounds good, Tim—yep.” Peter reached toward the disconnect button. “Cool—we’ll talk soon.”

When the duh-dun indicated the call had ended, Peter whirled his chair toward me and held up the lace. “Sarah Thompson—is this what I think it is?!”