Me Too
SARAH
Even as we exited the restaurant and got into the cars, there was nothing. Not a glance, not a shadow. He’d vanished.
The car ride home was quiet. My father didn’t ask questions, didn’t push. I sat with my arms folded on my lap, doing my best to show that I really wasn't feeling well but not overdoing it.
The moment we pulled up at the house, I rushed out the second the car stopped.
“Sarah?” my father called behind me. “Do you need anything? Should I call the doctor?”
“No,” I said over my shoulder. “I just need to get to my room.”
“I’ll come with you in case.....” he started.
“No, please,” I cut him off. I turned to face him just long enough to say, firmly, “Just..... don’t follow me.”
He stopped. He looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t.
I didn’t wait to see the look on his face. I turned and bolted into the house, desperate to make it to my room before everything I had been holding in came crashing down.
I immediately walked into my room, closing the door behind me like I was sealing away the world. The first thing I did was grab my phone, finally able to look at it and I called Cullen.
He picked up immediately. There was a laugh, a smile, a happiness in his voice that melted some part of the panic still lodged in my chest.
“Hey,” he said, bright and breathless. “Are you alright? Did your father suspect anything?”
“No,” I said, taking a long, steadying breath. “Are you okay? Did you get out okay?”
“Yeah, I did,” he said, chuckling.
I sat on the bed, and a quiet laugh bubbled out of me too. It felt like an echo of his joy, like we were still in it together, still hiding in that bathroom.
“That was…” I trailed off, unable to find the words.
Cullen filled in for me.
“That was awesome.... Exhilarating,” he said, still laughing, the adrenaline clearly still running through him. “I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast or had to think on my feet so quickly in my life.”
He laughed again, and I found myself smiling despite everything.
“I mean, I knew I was fighting for my life,” he said, “because if your father had found me in there, he wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot me.”
I laughed again, but this time it wasn’t as easy. That part wasn’t really funny to me, the idea that my father would shoot my husband simply for being with me. For touching me. For existing beside me.
But I didn’t want to kill Cullen’s mood. He sounded… good. Happy. Alive. Like he was celebrating. So I let it be.
“So how did you get out?” I asked. “They looked through the stalls and didn’t find you. Where were you?”
“Well, like I said,” he answered, “I had to think on my feet.”
I waited, curious.
“Hence I went out through the window.”
“The window?” I repeated, surprised.
“Yes,” he said, a little too proudly. “You didn’t want to get out using the window, so I did.”
He said nothing else after that, and without even meaning to, I found myself smiling again. Grinning, really.
He seemed so different from the Cullen I had married. So different from the man I had first known. There was something lighter in him now, something wild and spontaneous that made me want to match him.
He made me want to relax. To let go. To just be. To just… be me. And to give all of me, just to him.
“You were that scared,” I said, settling deeper into the bed, “I thought you were a made man. You’re used to living on edge.”
“I know it,” Cullen replied, a familiar smirk in his voice. “I’ve had myself shot at, I’ve gotten into fist fights, knife fights but I can assure you,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I have never run for my life while hard.”
That made me laugh out loud.
“With a hard-on, Sarah. Do you know how hard that situation was?”
And as he said it, he laughed too. So we both laughed. Like a couple of giddy kids who had just pulled off something ridiculous. Reckless. Wild.
“You think it’s so funny how you twist words, don’t you?” I said once we started catching our breath.
“No,” he said, “I’m just telling you the truth. It was so hard for you… and then I had to run with all that discomfort, while also fearing for my life, getting into small spaces....it was not an easy thing to do, trust me.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed again, long and hard, because this version of him, this open, unfiltered version was so intoxicating.
When the laughter finally died down, his tone shifted, turning soft and serious.
“Hey… are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, quietly.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer to make sure you were all good. I hope you didn’t flash anyone,” he added, teasing again.
I chuckled. “No, I didn’t flash anyone. And I’m so sorry you had to run out of there. But let’s be real, better I flash someone than you die. Don’t you think?”
I could practically hear his smile. “Yeah… It’s better that I’m alive. I’m not going to die until I bring my wife back, not until you're back with me again.”
The words caught in my throat.
"You do want to come back home with me, don't you? I want us to start making our own version of a family. Just you and I...."
I wanted to agree with him. I wanted to tell him that I felt the same. But something held me back. So instead, I said quickly,
“Hey, I think my dad’s coming upstairs. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Please do,” he said. “I want us to see whether we can meet again. I want to see you again.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Okay. Bye.”
I ended the call, and for a moment, I just held the phone against my chest. I felt… lighter. As if something inside me had shifted, softened. But still, there was that weight, the heaviness I couldn’t fully name.
I took a deep breath and sprawled out across the bed, letting my thoughts drift back through everything that had happened today. The thrill, the panic, the risk.
And I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face.
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