i'll build a house out of the mess
and all the broken pieces,
i'll make up for all of your t e a r s . . .

〰️〰️〰️

"So what are you doing guys doing tonight for the big anniversary?" Collin's lively voice caroled through the earpiece of my phone.

"Well, so far all we did today was hang around here, go grocery shopping, and get more allergy meds for Gus because he ran out," I recapped with a sigh. "Super romantic, I know."

"Wow," he breathed, feigning astonishment. "If that doesn't say domestication, I don't know what does".

I laughed at the truth behind that statement. "This is what marriage did to me. I'm boring now."

"Let's be real. You and Gus could never be boring."

The mattress of my bed creaked underneath me as I rolled onto my side, facing Ziggy who had each of his spotted limbs stretched in different directions. He cracked open a brown eye at me and when I started softly toying with one of his ears, he drifted back to sleep again.

Seven years. Gus and I had been together for seven years as of today.

For the last seven years, April 26th had been a special date for me. A memorable day that seemed like it happened in a past life. A time when so much of the world was still unknown, so many feelings were still foreign, and I had no idea how much my answer to a simple question could impact my future.

This year, for a myriad of reasons that included another ring on my finger and a whole lot of change, it felt different.

"Am I stupid for feeling like it's really not that big of a deal?" Dismayed by my question, Collin's silence was the only answer I needed, and I felt the need to elaborate. "I mean, we're married now. That feels like the big milestone, you know?"

He spluttered, clearly insulted that I could even think that way. "What are you talking about? It's gonna be seven years, Bayla. That's huge. Just think, seven years ago we were little babies at prom. I was... fucking wasted, and Gus asked you to be his girlfriend. Today should be a national holiday."

"You're dramatic," I chuckled with a shake of my head. "It's Sunday, and we both have work tomorrow. Gus is out right now but he wouldn't tell me anything. I don't know what he could be doing since we promised no presents this year, but I guess I'll find out when he gets home. I'm pretty sure we're just going out to dinner though, nothing crazy."

I'd be damned if I wasn't curious about it, either. Ever since my day spent with Sutton when I came home to a super suspicious Gus, I hadn't been able to rest. For the last two weeks, I was doing my own detective work around the apartment to find out what he was keeping from me in his bag.

Needless to say, my investigation was a flop. I didn't have my sister's ambition, nor did I have Gus' snooping skills. I looked everywhere – the drawer under the bathroom sink, the kitchen cabinets, the closet where our washer and dryer were, and even all the compartments in his car. Anytime he was in the shower, I'd take a quick peek in his work backpack and there'd be nothing out of the ordinary. Just dumb documents and financial reports I "legally wasn't allowed to look at".

Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree, or maybe Gus actually was hiding something from me and I was too stupid to figure it out. I didn't know what to believe, and Collin provided zero commiseration.

"Okay, whatever," he sang dismissively, and my eyebrows furrowed at his fickle response. "If that's what you think about your anniversary then... that's what you think."

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy keen. I gotta go but have fun with whatever you two boring souls do tonight," he rushed through the words.

I pulled back my phone to make sure it was still Collin that I was talking to. His name and face on my screen reassured me, even though it didn't sound like him. "You're being weird," I concluded.

"I love you," he cooed.

"Love you, too," I said, against my better judgment and confusion. "See ya."

The door to my apartment opened as soon as I clicked the red circle to end the call. Ziggy and I both stayed put on the bed and listened to the heavy footsteps tread around our home until they came to a stop. I turned onto my back and looked toward the doorway of my bedroom to see a very flustered Gus gawking like he caught me in the middle of a murder.

"What the hell, you're not dressed yet?"

Peering down at myself as if I had to double-check that I was wearing my black silk robe, I grimaced. I may have spent too much time lazing around and talking on the phone with Collin instead of being productive.

"Um... no," I answered, though it came out sounding like a question.

Gus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed raggedly. "How long is it gonna take you to get ready?"

"Well, my makeup and my hair are done, but the outfit is where I'm struggling. Considering I don't know where we're going, it could take me anywhere from ten to... ninety minutes."

"Bay, we don't have ninety minutes," he stressed the number with fretful, flappy hands. "Just get dressed, it's nothing crazy. Our reservation is in half an hour. Put something on and let's go."

"Alright, alright," I complied to cap his tantrum. Before he had an aneurysm, I swung my legs off the bed and strode past him to our closet. I caught him slinking into our bathroom when I glanced over my shoulder to gauge his reaction for my next comment. "Since it's nothing crazy, I'm gonna wear a dress and my leather jacket."

He popped his head out with an impatient glare. "Fine by me. That's a perfect Bayla outfit," he said before he disappeared again, but characteristically left the bathroom door ajar.

With a roll of my eyes, I sifted through the congested rack of hangers that held my lifeline. I skipped over the few dainty summer dresses I had because it wasn't warm enough outside for those, but it wasn't chilly to the point where I'd need a sweater and tights. A belted shirtdress wasn't the vibe I wanted, nor was a shapeless graphic tee. Beachy maxis, wedding guest gowns, and barely-there minis leftover from college were all out of the question too.

I grew more irritated with each garment I passed that wasn't up to my standards and wondered who the fuck allowed me to have so many clothes.

After three unsuccessful rounds of ransacking the closet and our single chest of drawers, I was about to throw in the towel when I found it. Hiding among my predominantly dark wardrobe was a no-nonsense black midi dress I totally overlooked. Spaghetti straps, tight-fitting and low-cut without revealing too much, and a decent slit up the side of each leg because it wasn't really a dress of mine if it had no slit.

It was nothing crazy. The right amount of understated that I was looking for and with my leather jacket on top of it, it was like a Bayla Barclay starter kit.

My mistake – Bayla Monahan. I'd finally gotten through the monstrous amount of paperwork after two months and that was now officially my new identity. Sometimes I'd just sit and stare at my license, admiring my new name and how good it sounded.

I discarded my robe and flung it on the bed by Ziggy, who grunted at me as I slipped into my dress.

"Don't you start," I warned playfully. He yawned in return.

Gus came out of the bathroom then, letting his eyes roam over my outfit and letting out a wolf-whistled in approval. "How do you make a black dress look so good?" He circled our bed, his hands latching onto my waist, shrinking the space between us.

"It's my one and only talent," I said with a wry smile.

"We both know that's not true," he countered, a gravelly notch to his voice that matched the smoke in his eyes I saw when I looked up at him.

I waited for the dirty joke, the silky suggestion, but all he did was pinch my ass before leaving the room which meant he really must have wanted to get going.

Now that the dress dilemma had been solved, all that was left were the shoes. On the floor by my feet was one of my white platform slip-on Vans, and I pursed my lips in consideration as to where the other was. I had the scuffed up pair that I wore to death for any and all occasions, but I also had a second identical pair that was in pristine condition. I considered those my classy sneakers.

If weren't doing anything deemed crazy, then that wouldn't necessarily warrant heels. Booties were a no-go since they'd look ridiculous and I really didn't want to wear stilettos if I didn't have to, but I wasn't sure if sneakers would be appropriate.

"Should I wear sneakers or heels?" I called out to where Gus was in the kitchen.

"I don't care!" He predictably shouted back.

I rolled my eyes one last time, grabbed my clean Vans, and mumbled to myself, "Why do I even bother?"

〰️〰️〰️

I probably shouldn't have worn sneakers to the restaurant at the tippy top of the mega posh Four Seasons hotel, but that was Gus' fault for not telling me where we were going. When he pulled into the parking garage, I balked at coming to the city's tallest skyscraper for dinner, then I refused to leave the car which resulted in Gus hauling me out himself and some troubled stares from the valet boys.

Nobody asked questions about the couple twisting each other's arms as we silently argued with our eyes and stalked through the lobby to the elevators. The ride up to the sixtieth floor consisted of me asking what the hell we were doing in such an upscale place meant solely for the upper crust.

Gus had said, "If I told you we were coming here, you would've said no."

He wasn't wrong, and that shut me up.

He held onto my hand and dragged me over to the restaurant's scrawny maître d' who spared a subtle look of detest toward my shoes upon our arrival. I almost expected him to say I wasn't allowed in wearing such informal footwear, but he held his tongue and guided us to our table.

We got to eat our dinner in peace, besides the fact that we were the most immature couple on the whole floor. The place was Gus' idea and he couldn't even pronounce the bottle of wine he ordered for us. I had to admit that the chocolate layer cake was to die for; whatever the marshmallow frosting was on top may as well have been a drug.

Dusk had just started to fall by the time we left, lighting the city ablaze as we drove into the night. Gus avoided the normal route we would take to get home and got on the parkway which led in a completely different direction. He made it pretty clear early on that he wouldn't tell me anything if I asked, so I kept my mouth shut.

Five minutes later, we were parked on a street alongside the Philadelphia Museum of Art. A legendary place I'd been to plenty of times before, between school trips and random days off with Collin. One of our city's most significant landmarks that I couldn't figure out why, of all locations, we would come here on a Sunday night. On our seven-year anniversary, at that.

Gus looked over at me when he cut the engine on his car, but I was staring ahead at the building across the street like I'd find an answer within its Ionic columns. With a jerk of his head, he chirped, "Come on."

Reluctantly, I got out of the car with him. We followed the sidewalks and hurried through the crosswalks until we stood at the bottom of the vast steps that led up to the entrance of the museum.

They were the steps that Rocky famously climbed in his first film. The museum was popular in itself, but the seventy-two steps that preceded its concourse were a tourist hotspot. During the day, it was a guarantee that this area would be crawling with out-of-towners mimicking the victory pose from the movie, but at night it was practically a ghost town. I still didn't understand what we were doing here.

We had stopped for a minute to asses the steps – all seventy-two of them – and neither of us spoke. Sporadic nighttime traffic whizzed behind us in the street, going to and from the expressway, but no other people were on the museum property.

Don't ask questions just go with the flow don't–

"So what are we doing here?" I asked, because apparently now I had taken on the role of being the nosy one around here.

Gus shot me a look over his shoulder, his eyes full of mischief as he moseyed toward the steps.

"Wait, you're really gonna make me walk up all these goddamn steps right now?" I laughed in disbelief, tugging at my leather jacket for warmth from the cool breeze passing through.

"Yeah, I am. And you know why?" He turned to me with a supremely smug smile that both confused me and turned me on. "Because I want to."

He didn't even wait for me to answer before he started making the climb up. Shaking my head, I mumbled, "Good thing I wore sneakers."

Since my kind of cardio was either dog walking or running around Donatella's office, it was safe to say Gus made it to the top before I did. By the halfway point, my calves were aching, my chest was heaving, and a had a whole lot more respect than I already did for Rocky. I didn't even have the strength to complain; all I could think about was getting to the top in one piece.

When I was a couple of steps away, Gus reached his hands out to me. I desperately grabbed onto them, letting him pull me up with ease until I was next to him. I nearly collapsed with relief, my body hunched over with my hands on my knees so I could catch my breath. He was just quietly laughing at how out of shape and pathetic I was.

"Jesus, that was–" I started to say as I stood up straight, but my winded response got cut short when I brushed my hair out of my face and saw the sight before my eyes.

Our backs were to the museum with the sweeping steps below and an out of this world view of Philly's skyline straight ahead of us. Every building started to come to life in the night, a handful of constellations hanging over them and a warm, faded glow from behind where the sun was about to set. Even the moon made an appearance, a sliver of white in a dark, endless, star-studded mass.

"Wow," I whispered in awe, losing the word in the wind. "Sometimes I forget how pretty this city is." Gus didn't say anything, but he hummed in agreement. As an afterthought, I added, "It's grimy as hell but... it's home."

We both remained quiet then and soaked in the scenery. Seeing our city in a way I wasn't used to had me hypnotized, like time was standing still for this moment. Like life slowed down if just for right now, so I could appreciate it for all that it was.

Gus' hand brushed mine, catching my attention from how he held onto it but didn't intertwine our fingers. A silent plea for me to look at him. When I did, he reacted by angling my body so I was facing him. We were parallel with the steps, his hands holding both of mine now, and he still wasn't speaking.

He was just staring at me. A trace of a smile on his lips, the crinkles I adored around his eyes, and a sapphire gaze that outshined the stars, the moon, and all the lights on the skyline.

"What are you doing?" I asked in regards to our new position, a lighthearted tone lining the question.

His shoulders lifted as he inhaled, slowly but steadily, his voice like velvet as he said, "Something I've been wanting to do for a while, but it hasn't really felt right until now."

My eyebrows knit themselves together. "Huh?"

"Just stop talking and listen to me for like, two minutes," he rumbled in irritation.

I bit down on my lip and grinned to myself, wondering who else on this planet would put up with me the way that Gus did. Nobody. I nodded and gave his hands a gentle squeeze as a sign for him to go on.

"Okay," he breathed, and his eyes dropped from mine. "Bayla, I..." His throat bobbed as he gulped, shaking his head before he uttered, "Wow, this is harder than I thought."

"You need a minute?" I teased, but if he needed it, I'd give it to him.

"No, I'm good. Promise," he insisted. He cleared his throat and his gaze was unwavering when it met mine again, as was his voice when he picked up where he left off. "The last few months with us have been a rollercoaster, but I wouldn't wanna be on this ride with anyone else. You're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me. You've made me into a better person, for my sake and ours. Not only that, but you make me want to be a better person. I want to keep being the man you love, the man you drunkenly married, and the man you get to spend the rest of your life with."

I couldn't help the giggle that surfaced at the words drunkenly married. Some days, I still couldn't fathom it. Other times, it seemed like we'd never been apart.

"I know this is happening ass-backwards, but honestly I wouldn't have it any other way because it's so us. I owe it to you, to our relationship, to do this. I think we deserve it after all we've been through."

My heart rate surged, a feverish throbbing in my eardrums as I watched Gus sink to the ground and do the last thing I ever expected.

He got down on one knee.

"Oh, fuck," I whimpered, in all my romantic glory.

A monsoon of emotions plowed into me head-on. An unfamiliar stinging in my eyes that I couldn't blink away, tension wriggling its way up my windpipe and watering down my voice. A relentless attack that turned me upside down, proving that I was absolutely head over heels in love with the man kneeling before me.

Gus was gazing up at me with a smile that almost brought me to my own knees. "I love you, Bayla," he murmured, so low and melodic like a language only I understood. "Always. Nothing could ever change that."

My breath hitched when he slid one of his hands into the pocket of his slacks and revealed a tiny black ring box to me. I saw the unmistakable glint of a diamond from the corner of my eyes because I couldn't tear my focus away from Gus even I wanted to. He was the only thing I could see clearly, just like he had always been.

I knew what came next. The last word he tacked onto the end forced a choked laugh out of me.

"Will you marry me, again?"

And because I couldn't think of any other response more worthy of this moment, I gave him the same three words I used when he asked me to be his girlfriend, on this very night seven years ago.

I managed a smartass smirk as I croaked, "Yeah. Why not?"

Gus blinked, digesting the phrase for a second before he started laughing. A hearty, contagious sound that nestled into my bones and turned me into a snorting, cackling, teary-eyed mess.

"I fuckin' love you," he rasped, his bout of laughter subsiding now. He didn't even take his eyes off mine to slip the ring on my finger, stacked right on top of the plastic wedding band.

I yanked on his hands and forced him to his feet, then I wrapped my arms around his neck and led my mouth to his in an all-consuming kiss.

"I fuckin' love you," I echoed onto his lips, "Always."

He didn't break away as he dipped me, bending me so far back that the fleeting thought of crashing onto the pavement crossed my mind, but it was gone as fast as it came. The way his arms held me was a solid enough promise that he'd never let me fall. Ever.

My brain was a saccharine slushie. A sickly sweet blend of feelings I couldn't grasp, the kind I always thought I was incapable of experiencing. My staggered senses, my swelling heart, my dizzy subconscious – I let it all run