Together by This Christmas Tree

cally mcgregor

Weeks passed in flashes of sleeping with feet curled around each other, like a romance movie montage. Corny things like sleeping in together and cooking together, music in my kitchen and guitar playing in his, and other things, like fights that would last until morning light seeped through windows. New Year’s was uneventful, we opted to just sleep in on the couch, occasionally kissing and giggling.

With John, everything flew by with laughter and happiness. I felt content, not a stir of doubt that grew in the pit of my stomach, only laughter and smiles. I knew it, too. That I would marry him, that we would be happy together. Ever since he told me he loved me, that it was the most beautiful thing, I knew. I would give up my hand to make him and I spend forever together.

The pub was busy, with people pushing and shoving for the playoffs. Weekends were getting busier and busier with college football wrapping up and professional football playoffs just beginning. I was making bank in tips, and I was truly happy when John would stop by with the guys after band practice and visit. It was nice to reach across the bar and kiss him and feel something. Not hate, not fear; just a love that I wanted to last forever.

I found myself, more often that not, sitting between John’s legs and keeping my head rested on his chest while he wrapped his arms around my waist, whether we were alone or with people. He never wanted to not be with me, as he whispered in my arms, drunken and sober, at his best and his worst, and most of all, everything that he ever was. I loved him more than I had ever loved Howie, or anyone else for that matter. I think he was the greatest man I had ever met.

I kissed him awake. “I love you, John,” I whispered, getting up to get ready for work, while he slept on the couch. He had band practice and dinner with his closest guy friends. He was taking a nap before doing anything else, and that was when he was most adorable. His eyes were closed and half of his left one was stretched open across the faded leather couch of my apartment, where we were spending this week. We alternated, and this week, it was my turn, meaning empty pizza and Chinese food boxes and guitars and his clothes strewn across everything.

He grumbled, and I chuckled, closing the door behind me, giving him one last look before heading down the stairs. I smiled more when I was with John, I thought less about picking up and leaving and more about a future here. I found myself looking at schools as I passed them, wondering if I could see little O’Callaghan-McGregor’s running around there, and I passed houses and wondered if I could see myself living there.

I was thinking too far ahead, investing all my happiness into John, and that never ended well, regardless. I wasn’t sure what I would do if we broke up or things didn’t work out, but right now, I didn’t care. Because right now, I was here, and so was he, and I was happy. That’s all that mattered.