Thoughts whirled in my head. Writing. It seemed easy enough. Words on a page, but as I continued to fixate, I couldn't sleep. I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rhythm of Billy's breathing. What could I possibly write about? In my one creative writing course, I remember the golden rule was to write what you know, but I'm a mess; I've always been a mess.

"I'm a mess," I murmured into the darkness.

I've always been almost; that was my story. The incredible almost, but the idea of writing felt different. This felt like more than nearly. It felt like something that could finally ground me. Write it all down. I could just write all the messiness and close the book on it. Publishing was the goal. I may share none of it, but I could focus on it. A wave of relief flowed over me as I curled into Billy. Without waking, he instinctively wrapped his arms around me.

A squeeze of Billy's arms woke me up.

"Morning," he whispered before nuzzling into my neck.

"Morning," I giggled back.

"How are you feeling today?" He tentatively asked.

I twisted in his arms to face him. "Good," I honestly answered.

"Good." He smiled back before kissing my forehead. "And the job? I know you didn't sleep well last night," he poked.

"Yeah, I had a lot to think about," I admitted.

"Anything you want to talk through?" Billy's ability to be gentle always astounded me.

"Not yet, but I think soon," I offered.

"I'm always here," he promised, with a kiss on my forehead. "Pancakes?"

"Yes, please." I let out a sigh of relief.

"You shower; I'll get breakfast going." He pulled himself from the bed and tugged on his jeans as he spoke.

I watched as he paced shirtless to the bureau and put on his watch. His shoulders rounded as they always did. He never seemed confident in his 6'3" stature and continuously slouched to hide it. The thought of scolding and reminding him it was bad for his back popped into my head, but I didn't want to destroy the quiet moment for something so trivial.

"Billy," I started instead.

"Mmhmm," he spoke absently as he plucked up a white t-shirt and sniffed it.

"I know how lucky I am. I hope you know I know that," I offered.

Billy's face snapped to meet my gaze. "What?"

"I haven't deserved your patience, and I know I am lucky that you even entertained being in my life, let alone be with you." It needed to be said. It had needed to be said for twenty years.

He paced to me, dropping the t-shirt to the floor in his wake, and slid onto the end of the bed, facing me.

"Was that keeping you up last night?" He scanned my face as he did so often.

"No, but I think about it often. I was selfish for twenty years, but pretended I was a martyr. An apology doesn't seem enough, and I don't know how you protected your feelings for me so well."

Billy pondered my words for a long silence. It was a moment twenty years in the making, and I don't think either of us to be expecting it until it was right on top of us.

"First, you don't get to decide what you deserve. No one gets to decide that. Only the people doing the giving can determine the merit. So, you deserve my love, and you always have. Every minute that I love you, I do so willingly because I love loving you. I've always loved loving you," he asserted.

"Why? After everything I have put you through, why?" I sat up as I spoke. This wasn't a conversation one lounge through.

Billy again pondered the question. I appreciated his deliberateness. For once, he didn't immediately have the answer or, at least, the words to convey his answer.

"I would say that you put us through. The hardest part of loving you is that I..." He paused, carefully considering his words. "Lil, I don't always think that you believe in love. You believe in me, and you love me and many others, but I don't think you understand its power. In the past, it had made me very angry. I interpreted it as you didn't believe in our love, but I really think now that you don't see love the way I do." He dipped his face and let out a laugh before adding, "maybe no one sees love the way I do."

"I believe in love," I protested.

"Tell me about love," he quietly asked.

"It compels me to protect you and preserve who you are because I love who you are," I confidently explained.

"Mmhmm," Billy agreed.

"What?" I pressed.

"You can't preserve a person, or they will never grow, and you can't protect a person, or they will never learn. You were always trying not to affect me for fear that you would change what you love, but..." Billy halted his words. I watched as he over-extended his fingers before weaving them together, causing loud cracks to echo through the room. "Lil, you changed me the moment I laid eyes on you. You were the missing piece of the puzzle I needed at that moment. You became a part of me. But the way you see love, you didn't see that. You don't see that you affect me for the better."

"How have I affected you for the better?" I shot.

Billy let out a laugh. "Well, you certainly reinforce that I can never be fully in control, and I don't know if you've heard the rumors, but I can be a bit of a control freak."

"I hate feeling out of control," I agreed.

"I'm well aware," he offered with a chuckle. "Despite what you think, I find you to be very selfless. It can present in ways I have not always cared for, but I never doubted your intent. I know that my career echoes into my personal life, that people feel like I owe them parts of me that I don't and am entirely unwilling to give to them. I also know that I was lucky enough to find my passion very young. Watching you all these years struggling to find your place has been one of the deepest struggles of my life. I can't pretend to understand your frustration..."

"And inferiority," I noted.

"Inferiority?" Billy asked.

"Billy, you are one of the most successful musicians on the planet. I'm envious," I shrugged.

"You're envious of me?" The shock was palpable in his words.

"Of course. Not only are you doing something that you love, but you are exceptionally talented. And not just in music. Yeah, you can pick up a new instrument in what feels like minutes, but it's everything. You are a successful entrepreneur, father, son, friend. Hell, you could publish even your lyrics as poetry. They are so amazing. You capture intangible feelings and make them accessible. Your words make me feel understood; make your listeners feel understood."

"You think far too highly of me," Billy shrunk a bit as he rounded his shoulders more.

"No, don't do that. You deserve to be proud of your accomplishments," I countered.

"I am proud, but not of all the things you listed. And I don't want my successes to diminish your own successes," he murmured.

I let out a little laugh. "My successes; what successes?"

Billy's face snapped up to mine again as his eyes burned with anger. "Your successes. Tell me them," he demanded.

"I don't have any," I offered. "I'm not a platinum-selling recording artist. I don't own a successful recording studio. I don't even have any kids!"

"Lily, if that is how you feel, we won't work. If you can't see what makes you successful, then..." Billy's words dropped out as his head dipped.

"What are you saying?" Panic soared through me.

"You asked me how you affected me for the better. How do I affect you for the better?" He asked.

"Are you kidding? Billy, you have had the most profound impact on me than anyone else in my life, except maybe my dad," I shot.

"How? How have I affected you?" He pressed again.

"You have taught me to never give up on what you love and to lead with kindness. You've taught me that finding what gives you energy and focusing on that will bring you the most success. You've taught me to stand up for and even fight for what I believe. You gave me my family. Sure, I have my mom and brother and sister, but your family and Tim's family, you all are my family. I wouldn't have them in my life if it weren't for you."

"But you aren't successful? Aren't you a successful friend or godmother? Aren't you a successful fiancé? Don't you support those you love until you have nothing left to give and offer them unwavering support and protection? That's not success?"

"No, that's just being a good person," I shrugged. "And many would argue that with what I put you through, I haven't always been a good person," I added.

"Many would be wrong; many don't know about us. Only we know us. Who gives a fuck about what anyone thinks? The most successful people in the world are kind. Yes, I've made a lot of money. And yes, I have fans and awards. But Viv and Jackson are my biggest successes. You and Tim are my biggest successes. Protecting my relationship with my mom is my biggest success."

"Would you have said that if you were a mechanic wondering how you would pay your bills?" I argued.

"I don't know. I don't know what I would value if life had taken me down a different path. This is the only path I have known, and the people I surround myself with are what I count as my successes. And, Lil, don't act like you have struggled to pay your bills. You have had a very successful career," he grumbled.

"Not compared to you." I slumped back into my pillows.

"Have you been competing with me? Had that been why you have always said you needed your own thing; to compete with me?" Billy asked with his wide, honest eyes.

I stared back but didn't see the warm chocolate, fearing my answer. I was too lost in my own thoughts. Had I been trying to compete with Billy? It had never felt like a competition. It was... my mind stalled about what it was. It wasn't centered on me. A competition would be about me, but my reluctance was always about... Billy.

"No, I..." I didn't want to say it. I knew he would hate my answer.

"Say it, Lil. It's okay. We'll get through it together," Billy promised.

"I don't feel worthy of you; or any of this life. I don't deserve a friend like Tim or a confidant like Mary. I don't deserve to be a godmother to two amazing kids like Viv and Jackson," I admitted. "Not after I pushed you all away for so long."

"And what would that do if we were to demand our pound of flesh? If we were to say no, we don't want you here anymore, we would lose you. We would lose. Why would we want that? Lil, I want to love you. I want you to let me love you. Suppose you want to quit your job and hang around here. Fine, I don't care. I don't think you'll be happy, and you will hear from me if I don't think you are happy, but I don't expect you to find your way suddenly. I expect you to find your way with me." Billy extended forward, so he was lying beside me, and pulled me to him.

"What if I want to move to Paris and open a bakery?" I asked.

"I'll learn French," he offered.

"What if I want to become a mechanic and work on cars all day?"

"I would keep you employed with my fleet alone," he noted.

"What if I wanted twelve cats and never left the house?"

"I would see if the cleaning service could come daily," he offered.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" I sighed.

"When it comes to you, yes. The answer is always us in my book." He kissed my forehead as he spoke. "And before you say it, I have determined you are worth it. So, you deserve me."

"I have always loved you. I know I have broken your heart so many times, but I thought..." I began.

Billy stopped me. "You thought you were doing what was best. I know. I disagree with what you did, and when I think of some moments, I hate them, but I know you were doing what you thought was best for me. But that is all in the past. You said yes. You agreed to be my wife, and I intend to hold you to that."

"I intend to hold you to that and as soon as possible," I teased.

"Really?" Billy's eyes grew wide.

"What?" A giggle escaped me from his change in demeanor.

"I've been thinking," he began. "We head out on tour in two weeks," he continued.

"We do," I agreed.

"And, I was thinking that it would be pretty cool if we when on tour as husband and wife," he noted.

"Pretty cool?" I teased.

"Yeah. I'd love to introduce you as the wife," he noted.

"Can we pull off a wedding in two weeks?" I asked.

"Depends on what kind of wedding you are looking for, but if we keep it small..."

"I only want small," I agreed.

"Then, yeah, why not?" Billy asked.

"I'd have to see if my mom is free," I noted.

"Call her today. See if she and the family can come out. I will pay for the flights," Billy offered.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Okay?" Billy confirmed. I could feel the excitement he was holding inside.

"I will call my mom. If she can make it, then we have two weeks!"

"Two weeks." Billy smiled. "I'm not letting you go this time," he added.

"I'm not letting you go this time," I agreed.