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Sterling stared at herself in the mirror, fixing a small gold hoop on her ear. Always gold, never silver. She saw Briggs behind her, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder while he fastened the cufflinks onto his sleeves.
“Zip me up, will you?” She asked.
He stood behind her, zipping the dress up halfway up her back. His fingers lingered on the bare spanse of her back, lightly touching the fragile writing on her shoulder. Most of the tattoo was covered, his fingers running over the bits of writing that showed.
“‘That’s here. That’s home. That’s us.’” He softly recited from memory.
He had seen it before but never reacted as he was now. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder before taking a step back. He slid his gold wedding band onto his finger, covering up the small tattoo on his finger, the only one she was ever consulted on. With him standing behind her in the mirror they seemed perfect.
She was living a life that she was convinced she would hate, one nearly planned for her. But she had chosen this, that is what had mattered. She leaned into him, her heart skipping a beat at the feeling of his hand against her back, drawing small circles with his thumb. They were so different from the young adults they once were, the only things left were the memories and scars.
The modest green dress hugged her body, matching Briggs in his tux. Her hair pulled up into a tight knot, every piece of jewelry she wore perfectly matched. His arms wrapped around her waist, his hands taking hers in his. He lifted one hand to his lips, silently kissing the back of her hand. Her eyes caught on his wrist as he moved, bare of the normal bracelets he wore, a thin white scar showing as his sleeve rode up slightly.
“We have to leave soon,” he whispered.
“We don’t have to attend.”
They could stay here forever, their hands holding each other’s, his lips on her neck.
He sighed, his breath hot against her skin. “I promised.” He pressed a final kiss to her jaw before letting go. “We don’t have to stay long.”
“What is this for anyways?” She asked as she grabbed her shoes.
He shrugged his suit jacket on, fixing his sleeves in the mirror. “Fundraiser.”
“For…?” She prompted.
“No clue.” He wrapped an arm around her waist while she adjusted her necklace. “It’ll be interesting.”
He grinned, leading her out the door. His hand didn’t move off her lower back. She complained as they walked down three flights of stairs which was completely her fault as she refused to take the elevator in his building. Her shoes weren’t built for walking so much and by the end of the night he would most likely end up carrying her back up the stairs.
He opened the car door for her, waiting until she got in to shut it. She was overly aware of the small things her husband did for her. Every tiny thing that never felt like much at the time but meant everything to her. The only thing he wouldn’t do for her is listen to anything but the shitty pop music he loved in the car.
“I put in a transfer request.” She said suddenly. “For D.C., of course.”
He turned the music down. “Did you?” His lips ticked up ever so slightly. “Tired of Colorado?”
They had gotten remarried months before but she hadn’t made the move yet. The more she thought about it, the more she pushed off taking the steps to come back. The paperwork was filed, they were married, they were hopelessly in love, but coming back began to seem like too much once she began planning. They were married and living halfway across the country from each other, it hurt both of them more than they would ever admit.
“Thought I needed a change of scenery.” She rested her hand on his where it sat on her thigh. “But we seriously need to look at new apartments. Preferably one without mold in the ceilings.”
“A mold free apartment, got it, I can do that. Any other requests?”
She thought about it for a moment. “We’re getting rid of your furniture. Start anew.”
“I like that. Most of my furniture needs to be thrown out anyways.”
“I know. You duct taped a piece of plywood to the leg of your coffee table for support. You didn’t even cut it.” She squeezed his hand tightly as he parked. She couldn’t recall the last time she had been to a similar event. “Are you sure we have to attend?”
He moved his hand away, getting out. She waited while he went to open her door. “Twenty minutes.” He told her, helping her out of the car. “We’ll leave as soon as you want.”
She nodded as she adjusted the neckline of her dress. If she could avoid more questions than she already would receive, she would. Any sort of question about her personal life would make this more difficult than it already was. She could hope for anyone to ask about her work instead but the two were too closely intertwined to ignore the obvious.
She couldn’t help but notice how cheap their car looked in comparison to others. She knew he cared but wouldn’t say anything, she knew he would try his hardest to pretend that wasn’t his if it ever came up, that he didn’t come from money in the slightest. Small things always set him apart, she wasn’t sure if he saw it but she did, and she knew most of the others did. She wouldn’t mention it to him, the tailored suits and finally owning a tuxedo that was his own helped him blend in more. But most of his shirts were worn thin or beginning to have holes because he refused to replace them unless it was an absolute necessity, the cheap shirts spoke more than his nice suits.
She recognized more faces than she would have liked as soon as they walked through the doors. She moved away from Briggs, making a beeline to grab herself a glass of champagne. She drank it quickly, the bubbly drink not helpful for much. It wasn’t even five minutes before she got roped into a conversation.
“Veronica!” An older man she vaguely recognized strode towards her. “It’s been too long.”
“Fuck.” She whispered to herself, grabbing a second glass.
She got pulled into an awkward one armed hug with a man she couldn’t even remember the name of.
“I haven’t seen you since you were this big,” he held his hand near his waist. “You’re all grown up.”
She gave him a slight smile, her fingers tightening around her glass. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“You probably don’t even remember me. I was a friend of your mother’s.”
That explained why she couldn’t remember the name, the last time she probably saw the man was when she was six. She smiled and nodded along to all his words, looking around him for Briggs. She spotted him across the room, talking with a small group of people. There was one woman specifically she noticed, he seemed not to notice her getting closer to him, how she seemed to laugh at everything he said. She couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Excuse me,” she cut off the conversation with the man in front of her quickly. “I’ll be right back.”
She was by his side in an instant, surely enough he was too engrossed in conversation to notice the woman hitting on him. She trusted her husband enough to shut it down if he truly noticed but he had always been a little oblivious to flirting.
She lightly touched his arm and he immediately stopped talking. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His thumb slipped under the fabric of her dress on her back, slightly more intimate than where he kept his hand earlier. He drew small circles on her back while they all spoke.
“You must be the famed Veronica.” One of the men stuck his hand out. “I’m Mark.”
She shook his hand, “nice to meet you.”
“We all thought you were fake.” The second guy talking to Briggs told her.
Briggs turned to her, “Sorry,” he mouthed.
“Well here I am, very real.” She laughed, two glasses of champagne making it all a little easier.
She was roped into their conversation as much as she was ignored. She kept a friendly smile the entire time, watching two similar looking blondes a few years younger than her to keep herself occupied. They kept to themselves and their husbands but glanced at her every once in a while.
“Do you two have any kids?” The slightly taller one finally acknowledged her presence directly.
She was already feeling the effects of her third glass of champagne as she grabbed a fourth. “No,” she smiled. “Do you?”
“Two boys.”
Sterling nodded along as she told her about her children. She could not make herself care about what she was saying.
“I mean,” the second one said, “it’s a good thing you two are too old to have kids. Your features don’t go well together.”
“I’m thirty.” She deadpanned. Thirty-one but they didn’t need to know her exact age. She didn’t know if she should be more offended by the assumption of her age or calling her future kids ugly. “Even if we were planning on having children, I think they would look just fine with our features.” She had drank too much to mince her words.
The woman in front of her froze. “His nose wouldn’t look good with any combination of features.” She sipped her own drink, “he pulls it off though. And your kids would be so tall .”
Sterling looked at Briggs who was still completely absorbed in his own conversation. The woman kept talking, insulting them more while simultaneously discussing how hot her husband was. Her head spun with the information, tears began to form, she always got more emotional when drunk.
Her fingers tightened around his bicep, perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin. He stopped talking at the sight of her, immediately giving their goodbyes. He led her outside as she wiped her face with the back of her hands.
“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she told him as more tears flowed. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” He led her to the car. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
She reached out and touched his nose. “I like your nose. I think they’re assholes,” she laughed and grabbed onto him as she tripped. “Your nose would look so good on our future children.”
A hint of a smile crossed his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your nose.” She could feel the tears coming again.
She was beginning to bawl her eyes out at the thought of her hypothetical children getting bullied. He helped her into the car, buckling her in when she made no move to. He spent the entire drive moving her hands away from him and listening to her cry over the most random things. Mostly over what was said to her earlier.
He stood beside her door on the sidewalk by his apartment. He looked up at the building then back at Sterling drunk in the passenger seat.
“Get on my back.” He told her.
“What?” Her shoes dangled in her hands as she was barefoot on the sidewalk.
He kneeled in front of her. “You can’t walk shoeless.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, climbing on his back. She held on tightly the entire walk to his building and back up the three flights of stairs because even drunk she still refused to use the elevator.
“I love you,” she whispered into his neck.
He set her down by the door, unlocking it. She kept talking, holding onto him.
“Do you not love me?” She asked when he didn’t return the phrase, her voice catching on the words.
He put his full weight against the door, finally getting it open. “I do love you.”
He got her to change and forced her into bed. He laid next to her, her focusing on the buttons of his shirt. He moved her hands away a few times as she attempted to unbutton his shirt. She eventually was out within a few minutes, all of it catching up to her.
Sterling woke up with a pounding headache and a foul taste in her mouth. She blindly reached for the nightstand in the still dark room, the only light was Briggs laptop beside her. Her fingers closed around two pills on the nightstand and found a glass of water beside them to wash them down.
She grabbed his laptop on the bed, scrolling through what he had left open. She clicked between tabs of apartments he was looking at. They were all nicer than the one he lived in now, better neighborhoods, more similar to something she would choose. He came back into the room in a pair of khakis and a button down, sitting on the bed next to her. She smiled slightly at the sight, he looked dorky in the outfit.
She set the laptop between them, resting her head on his shoulder. “I like this one.” She clicked back to a two bedroom apartment.
“How’s the head?” He asked.
She made a noncommittal noise, continuing to scroll on his laptop. His shirt was newer, nicer than his usual white button downs. He rolled the sleeves halfway up his arms while she attempted to keep looking at the laptop, seemingly distracted by the simple act.
“Are you wearing an earring?” She reached up and lightly tugged on the small stud.
He smiled but moved her hand away. “Maybe.” He reached for something on his nightstand before moving closer.
She paused on an apartment. “This one,” she declared, leaving little to no room for argument.
“Yeah?” He rested his head on her shoulder. “We could have a home office,” he mused.
“We could.” She clicked through the other photos. “Or it could stay a bedroom.”
She glanced over at him as she continued to talk. The idea of truly moving in with him again was almost exciting. He apparently didn’t share the same sentiments as he dozed off on her shoulder.
Sterling removed his glasses from his face, setting them on the nightstand. He probably hadn’t slept much the night before. She couldn’t remember anything past when they left the gala.
She gently moved him off her shoulder, eliciting a groan from him. “I love you,” he mumbled, half asleep.
She shut his laptop and placed it on the nightstand with a small smile. She let him hold her and pull her close as she laid back down. She rested her head on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat comforting.
“Love you too,” she whispered.
He shifted beneath her, holding her tighter. “Do you really now?”
“Just maybe.”