Somewhere in the middle of this fuck and drug fest, Cash started on this whole, “You’re the one. You’ve always been the one. I want to marry you and have our kid. I make enough money now, I can take care of you. You can finally quit.” Picture me, smiling, drunk, high, naked, stunned and underneath a gorgeous man I’ll always hold a candle for. The thing is, he was being serious. Or as serious as he could given the circumstances. I kissed him and stared into his eyes. Here’s a man I tried to end my life over, due to an argument we had had (although, in no way do I blame him), inside me, professing his love in such an endearing way, eleven years down the line. And six years too late. I know it was the substances and our history, but tears were rolling down my cheeks. Happy tears. Overwhelmed with emotion tears. All the while, the big tattoo on his chest of his daughter’s name with his current girlfriend, the one he started dating as we were ending, sat in contempt above me.


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