Clarity

Paige

I lay in my bed, staring up at the mural I’d grown so used to on my ceiling and trying not to lose my goddamn mind. Why did I say anything about marriage? Why did Tom have to look so absolutely, unshakably certain when he said we should? How could I possibly go to sleep knowing that?

I turned over and punched my pillow into a new shape. I’d grabbed Tom’s wrist as I left the dinner table and asked him to sleep in my bed tonight. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I’d freaked out because I didn’t love him. I really, really did. But marriage?

Thankfully, he had some mob deal or other tonight, so I had the bed to myself at least until he finished that. If he were here, I just knew he’d sense my confusion and try to keep talking about it. But every time Tom talked, he made these huge, sweeping promises that I had no idea how he was ever going to keep. Marriage. Supporting us both. Giving me access to all his bank accounts and never turning back.

If I kept thinking about him