cold feet turned into cold weather,

we had love, now it don't m a t t e r

〰️〰️〰️

"I'm sorry."

A voice came from behind me that I couldn't mistake for anyone else's but Sutton's.

The plate I was scrubbing at the sink in the kitchen nearly slipped from my fingers at the sound. It was hushed, but I was sure I heard it. Aside from seeing Gus, it was the literal last thing I expected to happen tonight.

My whole body jerked around, still holding the dish in one hand and a sponge in the other. Suds went flying.

Sure enough, Sutton was standing right before my eyes. Her chic lilac blouse that was only accented with lace inserts and shell buttons now had stray bubbles scattered along the front of it. Instead of predictably stabbing me with one look, the corners of her lips surprisingly quirked upwards.

"Huh?" I grunted. It was the only response I could manage to get out.

"At the party," she airily chuckled, "For how I screamed at you."

My dumbfounded expression remained. "What?"

Sutton crossed her arms over her slightly soapy shirt, scoffing, "You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh." I pretended to have a sudden realization. I was testing her to see if she'd give me a more heartfelt apology. It was worth a shot. "When you almost bit off my head for 'sabotaging' your party?"

"Yes," she said, tentative like she didn't want to admit that as her eyes darted away from mine.

I hummed.

When I turned back around to finish up the dishes, Sutton let out a childish whine. Evidently, she was unhappy with where this conversation was going, which made sense. The girl hardly ever saw a day where things didn't go her way.

I wasn't sure what she expected of me. Drop to the floor, kiss her feet, and praise her? Brush off everything she's put me through for this wedding and say "it's okay"? Ignore the fact that she publicly gave me the reprimanding of the century all because of an honest mistake?

I'd admit I was a People Pleaser. Anyone in my life knew I seldom said no. My life occupation should have been the guy that poured concrete on rough roads – smoothing everything over in order to make everyone happy.

I wasn't proud to be a doormat (often confused with an angel or saint), but that was just me. I had been that way all my life and I didn't know if I could ever change it. For a fleeting moment, I felt like trying it out. It couldn't hurt, though I knew it wouldn't last long and Sutton wasn't going down without a fight. One that she'd inevitably win.

She was next to me then, leaning a hand against the counter with the other on her hip from what I could see in my peripheral vision. "Come on, Bayla. You know that party was stressful for me. I was under a lot of pressure," she started off with the excuses, silvery-toned and close to convincing. If I wasn't her sister, I would've believed it.

"Yeah, because the rest of us weren't stressed out. Just you," I uttered without even looking at her.

I was too focused on not shattering my mom's vintage, priceless tableware she saved for special occasions that I was trying to wash in peace. The more Sutton spoke, the tighter my grip got.

"As the bride, I think I get a free pass on being the most stressed."

I couldn't help but let the fork in my hands fall. The clang it made against the stainless steel sink had my mom hollering from the other room in question of what it was.

A screw inside me sprung loose, as did all hell.

"I-I can't even talk to you about this," I stammered out, backing away from the sink because there were too many sharp objects within arm's reach. "You literally have no concept on anything besides yourself and your wedding. Like, do you have any idea of what you've put me, and everyone else, involved in this shit show through? Nobody's said it because God forbid someone else talks besides you, but we're all-" I emphasized my point by waving my hands around in circular motions, "-just as fucking stressed about this as you are. I know this is supposed to be an exciting time for you, but damnit, it is not for the rest of us. It's a wedding, Sutton. Across the country. For you, of all people."

I was out of breath by the time my tirade was over. Sutton was looking at me exactly as I was looking at her earlier when she first apologized. Her threaded eyebrows were halfway up her forehead with only one crease in the skin, thanks to Botox. Glossy lips parted like she wanted to say something, but had no clue where to start.

We'd had uglier disputes before. This didn't even come close to the worst of the worse for us. It was a minuscule scratch on the surface of our relationship compared to the time I accidentally told her boyfriend in high school that she stuffed her bra. Or the time she accidentally sold my Barbie collection at our town yard sale almost fifteen years ago for two dollars.

This was nothing. But it was also everything to Sutton, so her reaction surprised me.

She nixed the silence by releasing a breath I could tell she was holding in. Then she brushed a nonexistent hair out of her face. Her eyes seemed like they were stuck on my western belt buckle around the waist of my jeans.

It was entirely out of character for her. I was thinking there would be a replay of what happened at her "Bon Voyage" party. This was a calm, mature version of Sutton and I couldn't ever recall seeing this side of her.

"I didn't know you felt that way," she hoarsely said.

I could have said more – a lot more – but I didn't want to ruin Thanksgiving forever. I still liked the holiday, and I didn't want it to be known as the day I completely lost my mind.

"I'm tired," I forced the word through my teeth with the clenching of my fists. Sutton saw the gesture and blinked at me a few times. "I'm tired of being walked on and I'm tired of saying yes to everything, but it's not gonna change. Just thought saying it out loud might help. I've been trying to keep it together for so long and I don't know how much more I can handle. I hate that you have to hear this, but I honestly cannot wait until this wedding shit is over."

Something in her gaze shifted, though I wasn't sure what. It looked like she wanted to hug me but there was an invisible barrier between us stopping her. Like she was holding back tears.

"I um... I'm sorry. I know I'm not an easy person to work with."

"I mean, you can be a bit of a..."

"A psycho-bitch?" Sutton finished my sentence for me, one side of her mouth lifting at Valerie's term for my behavior during the infamous bachelorette weekend. My grimace told her she was right, and she laughed. "I took a lot out on you at the party and I shouldn't have done that. It was really immature of me. Definitely not great wife material."

I had to snort at the last line. The idea of Sutton being a married woman still seemed so surreal to me. No one thought Sutton Barclay, the greatest enigma to live, would ever find someone that would be able to tie down her wayward strings. If there was any real proof that soulmates existed, it was her and Koa.

This wasn't the end. I knew there would be another Sutton-related dilemma soon enough. I'd be to blame, she'd give me hell for it, and then we'd be back to normal again. For the time being, I just had to accept her apology so I could move on with my life.

People pleasing at its finest.

I shrugged a shoulder and gave her a flat smile. "I appreciate it. You know, if I paid any attention to the clock that night, I would've known when the speeches were," I said. It was my own, subtle way of asking forgiveness without getting too sappy.

"It's okay. You're still young and in love. Enjoy it," she smirked, nudging my arm with her hand when I playfully rolled my eyes. "Come on, I'll help you finish the dishes."

"You, doing housework?" I gasped. "The horror."

She beamed at me as she grabbed a pair of bright blue rubber dish gloves from the cabinet under the sink. She pulled them on with an animated smacking sound, covering her manicured nails and rock of an engagement ring, telling me, "I'm going to be a wife soon. I have to get in the proper mindset."

"I think you just like saying the word 'wife'."

"I like Mrs. Makana better."

I just grabbed a spare glove I'd taken off earlier and smacked her with it.

〰️〰️〰️

It had been weeks since I truly got a decent night of sleep. Even though Gus and I had been steadily in a "good place" for some time now, there was always some sort of disruption to keep my brain wired. There were never-ending surges of anxiety about work, or my sister's wedding, or life in general, that only came at night.

For some reason, sharing the full-sized mattress in my childhood bedroom with Gus and Ziggy all weekend made me sleep like a goddamn baby. Could've been due to a Thanksgiving food coma that lasted beyond the holiday, with help from a sense of ease at the reassurance that Gus was home safe and sound with me.

Either way, I woke up Friday morning without a dull ache in my head or a problem opening my eyes. It was heavenly.

My face was jammed into a pillow, with one arm tucked in my chest and the other dangling off the edge of the bed above Ziggy. I was shocked he didn't sense me opening my eyes, but from the way he was sprawled out on the floor and whimpering in his sleep, I could tell he was knocked out cold. Too much food and family could do that to him, which was exactly what yesterday consisted of.

I disentangled my legs from Gus' and flipped over to see him already looking at me.

It was something so simple that I hadn't seen in a long time; his eyes on mine in the morning. Something so inconsiderable and yet I hadn't realized how much I missed it. A sleepy glance and body heat under covers. It's the stupid things you get so used to that you end up missing the most when they suddenly aren't there.

"I can't believe you," I said, my voice coming out extra groggy and cracking through every other syllable.

Gus smiled. "What?"

"You showing up here to surprise me... I can't believe you pulled it off. How the hell did you manage to do that?" I shook my head in disbelief.

"I'm a time traveler, Bayla, did you not know that?" He retorted, and I just rolled my eyes. "Damnit, we've been together for almost seven years and you had no idea?"

I turned onto my back now, rubbing at my face as I mumbled, "Alright, it was a cute gesture but now you're being annoying."

"I think you just need your coffee and then you'll go back to being in love with me."

"Mhm, that'll cure it," I said dryly. He scoffed in mock offence, but I could still feel his eyes on the side of my face. I slightly turned my head and I was looking at him again, since we were in such close proximity in my old, tiny bed. "Seriously though, that was easily one of the nicest things you've ever done. Not just for me, like in general."

He shrugged the shoulder that wasn't pressed into the mattress underneath of us and pursed his lips. "I thought it'd be a cool surprise. All the guys I was with ended up doing the same thing. It's weird to say but I had a really good time on my work trip. It put some things into perspective for me and sort of cleared my headspace."

"Well I like hearing that," I whispered, feeling myself go soft because it was so damn rare for Gus to be in a clear, positive mindset. I think we all knew that by now.

"So you were surprised to see me? For real?" He asked, a childish grin appearing.

"Gus, I haven't been that surprised in a long time. I was convinced you were gonna be stuck in Minnesota for the rest of the weekend. It was so believable because you know we have the worst luck ever. You getting stuck in a blizzard, halfway across the country, not coming home for Thanksgiving; it's classic. And you know I act like I hate surprises but I actually love them so it was just... crazy. I still can't believe it. I don't know how you did it... fucking made my night. This was the longest week ever and you coming home kind of made it all worth it."

After my long-winded response came to an end, Gus said nothing. His eyes wandered around my face, not necessarily looking for an answer but merely soaking in everything about me. There was a trace of a smile pulling at his lips that was so contagious it mirrored on my face.

It didn't even feel like us. We were in that good of a place. And I hated that I knew what could, and likely would, come next. It would come too quickly because we never had enough time to truly enjoy the highs. The lows would always sneak up on us. It was our pattern.

Gus opened his mouth and I felt the next low pull me under the water by my ankles until I couldn't breathe.

"I could marry you."

As if Gus appearing out of thin air at my parents dinner table last night didn't shock the hell out of me, those four words certainly did that.

But this was a different kind of shock. This was fear crawling up my windpipe and choking me. This was drowning in that fear until I saw stars. This low unmatched any other we've had before because I wasn't prepared for it.

This wasn't an infamous Gus vs. Bayla brawl. Those I knew how to deal with. It wasn't actually a low at all, really, but I'd turn it into one.

Gus and I never talked about marriage. Ever. Not once. I honestly never considered it with us, with how unstable we could be. I never considered how my only options were either marriage or separation. I sort of figured Gus and I would be in limbo for the rest of our lives and we'd both be fine with it.

Marriage was the ultimate commitment; the last puzzle piece that two people worked so hard for because it was the end goal of any relationship. I wasn't ready for that and I didn't know when I would be, or if I ever would be. Apparently Gus was.

The only thing going through my mind was a miniature version of myself screaming and running around in hysteria.

Any other girl probably would've melted at the phrase. The casualty of it, how unprecedented it was, the affection in his tone, all of it.

I wasn't any other girl. My hurried reply proved that.

"I have to get a shower."

The temperature in the room and my heart rate both spiked at the same time. I couldn't get out of the bed fast enough, struggling to get the twisted comforter off of me and tripping over Ziggy once my feet hit the floor. Whether he was in the way or not, I probably still would have stumbled to the door. Marriage was chasing me down, right on my heels like a rampant murderer in a teen horror movie.

Yanking open the door that felt like it was three miles away, I came face-to-face with Asher. He was standing on the other side looking like he was ready to knock. His eyes widened at me.

"What, Asher?" I spat.

He stared at me for another moment, seeming like he briefly forgot what he was doing. I watched his eyes observe the scene that laid out in front of him; my frantic appearance and Gus most definitely gawking at my back from where he didn't move from the bed. I merely guessed that because he was behind me, and I refused to turn around.

"Uh, Mom wants to know if you guys wanna go out for breakfast. She doesn't feel like cooking again," Asher spoke up hesitantly.

"Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever."

Asher opened his mouth to say something else, but I breezed by him before he could do so. I could feel his eyes on me as I flew down the hallway to the bathroom with no phone, no clothes to change into, and no real plan.

Right when I was about to shut the door, I heard him ask, "What's up with her?"

I didn't hear an answer from Gus. I shut the door and took a long, unproductive shower.

〰️〰️〰️

- uuummmm YIKES. what just happened??? tbh i don't know. i'm just so happy i actually got this chapter done idk why this one was so hard to write.

ANYWAY WOW GUS DROPPED A LOWKEY BOMB. look at him being all lovey-dovey for once. and homegirl BAYLA is actually the one that freaks out this time!!! we ain't about one-sided relationships here, y'all. both our bb's have their faults. thoughts??? was it ok?? idk what i'm doing anymore.

ok i'm gonna stop rambling now. thank you for reading and being a part of the sabbbycat shit show (if i actually kept up with vlogging that'd be a GREAT name for it). LOVE YA LOTS.

xoxo, sabbbycat