I Love You. Forever.

We were in love.

No, not past tense. We are in love–present. Still are. Forever, I had sworn on that beautiful evening. How much of it does he remember, I wonder? I can recount every detail, from the dainty lace trim of my ivory dress to the exact shade of navy blue of his lapels. I can still see the surprise in his expression as I had turned the corner, holding my bouquet, the matching silver bangles he had gifted me gleaming in the morning sun. His eyes had gone to my lips first, wearing the exact shade I knew he loved. Cherry red. Pristine. I had known from that moment that we would be together forever. We were perfect.

Are perfect.

Present tense.

It is nine AM as I write this and Ryan has already left for work–and like the lovesick sap I am, I already miss him. I miss his honeyed eyes. His boyish smile. Eight hours is too long to wait.

They call this the honeymoon period, but I can already tell it’s going to last forever.

While he’s gone, I make our bed. I fluff up the pillows the way I know he likes it, spritz a little bit of my perfume on his side, then make my way downstairs to get started on dinner for when he’s back. I’m wearing one of his long-sleeved shirts and nothing underneath except the beautiful onyx anklet he’d gotten me just days ago to commemorate our anniversary. Maybe I should put on some of his underwear, I think as I switch on the lights and pull the leftover roast from the refrigerator.

He loved that game–wondering what I had on underneath. He would always ask me when I’d managed to snag a new shirt, a pair of his boxers, a dab of his cologne. I would wink at him, smile, and tease, “You’ll never catch me, my darling.”

I’m caught in my musings again, aren’t I? That’s okay. I can tell this story a thousand times.

Did you know it was love at first sight?

I always thought that was just a silly myth until he had quite literally walked into a room and taken my breath away. I had been sitting in the dentist’s chair, my head tilted back as his assistant had administered some topical anesthesia for a routine cleaning, when his face had appeared above mine. I swore he was an angel then, his head haloed by the overhead light. He had touched my cheek and I was giddy with butterflies.

“Bold choice of lip for a dentist appointment,” he had said as he put one gloved finger into my mouth. I had the ridiculous urge to wrap my lips around it and suck, but I could barely feel my jaw, and a little bit of drool was ruining the perfect moment. “I hope I don’t smudge it.”

I had hoped he would.

He’d smiled at me then, and I was his.

I wanted everything with this man. I wanted to wake up next to him, wearing nothing but the morning light peeking through the curtains. I wanted to wait for him by the window for the first sign of his car rolling into the driveway so I could surprise him with his favorite homemade roast. I wanted to bathe in his cologne and whisper sweet nothings against his neck.

I had left the dentist’s office that day with his name and number, and it has been a picture-perfect storybook romance ever since.

And so you see, your Honor, I couldn’t help myself. We were in love.

Are in love.

I love him forever.

His attorney uttered the last word, lowered the letter, and a hush blanketed the room.

Oh, God. Ryan felt his lunch lurch up his throat and he tamped down the urge to relive the meager meal he’d had before the trial. His eyes were the first of his body to thaw from the terror-stricken paralysis; they drifted across the courthouse, sunken into his horrified expression, before he turned his head to meet hers.

She was already staring at him.

She was smiling–of course–and he could see the crinkle of it at the corner of her eyes from across the room. Blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth. Cherry red lipstick. Pristine.

Psychotic.

The silver of her handcuffs caught the light strewn in from the windows and for an instant, he was blinded by their reflection. A reminder, he thought, of the day she’d barged into his home with flowers wrenched from his garden in a macabre makeshift bouquet and declared them wedded.

He spared a glance at the jury. In the brief reprieve of his reverie, they had reanimated and were whispering amongst each other, their eyes darting between him and the monster across the room. How could they think anything of her except the guilty party? Hadn’t they heard the part when he’d said he’d had to fight her off, for Christ’s sake?! He’d wrestled the flowers from her, demanded to know how she’d gotten into his house, but to no avail. She’d gripped him by his blazer, handcuffs gleaming, ankle monitor beeping that infernal warning, and demanded he kiss his bride.

So what was there for the jury to deliberate?

The judge’s gavel clipped its base once. Twice. Ryan swallowed the sandpaper in his throat and avoided her desperate eyes searching for his.

“Danielle D’Arpa, you are hereby sentenced to 30 days’ jail time for a brief break of your restraining order and a short campaign of non-violent harassment that caused the plaintiff to fear for his life.”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh GodohGodohGodohGodoh–

Was the room getting smaller? The walls, closer? The temperature, hotter?

30 days?!

Ryan could feel the terror clawing its way up his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He loosed the tie around his neck and choked a gasp just as he caught her eyes.

She smiled at him. Of course.

Cherry red lipstick.

Pristine.

I love you, she mouthed.

Forever.