Pushing aside my fears, I gave her my new typical greeting. “Happy Anniversary.”

Warmth in her voice, she murmured, “You don’t have to keep telling me that every time you call, Kellan.”

With a sigh, I shifted on the mattress. “I know, but I still feel really bad that I missed it, that I couldn’t fly out to you. A year together is a big deal, and I really wanted to see you…but stuff kept coming up…”

I’d explained about our hectic schedule-within-a-schedule before, several times, but I had to imagine she was still hurt by the news. I was. Every time I had to tell her I couldn’t leave the tour, I felt a piece of my heart shredding.

Her voice was quiet and accepting when she told me it was fine, that she understood, and she’d been sick anyway, and I’d sent flowers—like somehow that was enough. It wasn’t. Especially since she hadn’t even gotten them until the next day. I apologized for that, again, and she told me it was okay, again. It didn’t feel okay. None of this felt okay.

Feeling the melancholy seeping into me, I told her, “I’m really sorry it’s turned out this way. I’ll make it up to you…someday…I promise.” I’ll make everything up to you. Just don’t leave me.

She didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t say anything for a long time. I didn’t either. I didn’t know what to say. The space I felt growing between us was horrifying, and I felt my eyes begin to sting as the long, silent seconds ticked by. How do I fix us?

Finally, Kiera broke the quiet. “I found your letter last night, the one in the couch.”

I sat up on the bed as surprise and trepidation rushed through me. I’d been dealing with so much lately, I’d almost forgotten about that letter. “Oh…and?” I cringed after I asked her that. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know her answer. Had I gone too far with that letter? Pushed an idea she wasn’t ready for? And fuck…there was so much unspoken crap between us now…how could she possibly embrace the idea of marriage? How could we get married, with so many walls in the way? How do I break the walls, without breaking myself?

“You really see that future for us?” she asked.

There was a trace amount of awe in her voice; hearing it calmed my nerves. “Yeah, I do, Kiera…all the time. Do…do you?” My stomach tightened again as the doubt and fear beat against my brain. What if she says no? Does that mean we’re over? I don’t want us to be over.

But she said, “Yeah,” and the relief I felt was instant. And brief. “Maybe,” she quickly added. “Someday.”