Our long weekend had ended more awkwardly than I had expected. Nothing had ever felt even remotely awkward with Boston, ever. Everything between he and I was always natural.

The silence and tension between us on the jet ride back was palpable. Then there was the kiss at the door of the jet before I had descended the stairs. It was short and sweet, not long and in-depth like our usual, not sensual in the least. The cumbersomeness of it had set the tone for my next few weeks.

I felt robotic during the time leading up to the holiday break. The social aspects of my life I'd avoided as best I could without seeming like something was wrong. I'd made my the usual phone calls to family, to Boston, but I wasn't invested as much as I usually would be.

My head was still too busy wrapping around the decisions I'd made, it still is. Those decision aren't ones that are easily undone. Marriage is a serious thing, something that should last a lifetime. It's something that should be done once you know the ins and outs of your partner, not beforehand.

To keep my mind off of said topics I'd made sure I kept my attention on things I could; like school work. My grades are the best they've ever been, so I guess there's that. Because the moment I took my sights off of a text book or an academic task, my thoughts would become all-consuming. They'd bring me back to the worrisome, inevitable consequences of my actions. My future just sitting there in blank space, in a vast field of the unknown.

It's times like these, sitting alone in my dorm while Marcella is out partying, that my relationship situation comes to the forefront of my mind. It's around two in the morning, the Saturday before break, and Boston still hasn't called me or text me to tell me he's home. I know he usually works late or goes out with Hugo but with the ever-growing distance between us it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

The thought of him out and about and not letting me know makes me roll over with a huff. He wouldn't do that. He'd let me know. He's only twenty, he shouldn't have to. But we're married... shouldn't he tell me?

What the heck did I do? What did we do?

Regardless of the depressing thoughts rolling through my brain, I can't help but think about his arms wrapped around me. They're comforting, everything about Boston is comforting. He felt like home. It was the oddest thing considering Boston, the city, is my actual home. Fate is strange that way.

Fate. Now I sound like him.

It was fate for us to meet, for things to happen the way they did. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a mother? Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me I wouldn't be good at it. No. No, that can't be it. Maybe it's the universe's way of trying to get Boston to change his mind? Too many maybes. Not enough answers.

I roll over again feeling my eyes sting. "Oh forget this." I throw my covers off of me and then flick on the light to the bedroom. I rummage around in my small dresser and fish out some jeans and a sweater. I quickly dress myself and then throw my hair up in a high ponytail. I toss my laptop in my backpack before heading out the door.

There's a coffeeshop off campus a little way that stays open around the clock Fridays and Saturdays. If I can't sleep then I figure I'll just embrace the insomnia and get a coffee while diving into some writing, maybe even a side project for my ethics class.

Is it ethical for a person to marry someone before disclosing a major health condition and the fact they don't want a family while knowing the other person does? — Questions I already know the answers to but hate thinking about.

The neon glow of the coffee shop's sign washes over as I open the door. I take a giant inhale, taking in the intoxicating smell of the different blends of coffee beans. After I place my order with the extremely peppy barista I go and find a table. I pop open my laptop and sit back, sipping the hot beverage as I stare at the blank word document.

There were several things I could write right now but one of them pulled at the back of my mind. One of my professors had been impressed with how I'd thrown myself into my academics. He'd suggested I think about going abroad next semester, as he would be accompanying a group of students overseas. He said he saw potential in me and thought broadening my horizons would be the best thing for me. All I needed to do was write a paper on why I'd be a good candidate, how the trip would benefit me, and how I think it will impact my future for the better.

Marcella had been excited for me, telling me I should definitely jump at the opportunity. She thought I'd be insane not to go, to pass it up. She also didn't know that I had a husband who had to be a part of that decision now. It was all so confusing.

I begin typing the reasons why when a familiar laugh rings throughout the cafe. When I look up, I see Carter off to the side at a table with a girl. They're laughing, drinking coffee, looking like they're enjoying each other's company. The image makes me smile. Maybe he's right, maybe he's changed and hopefully whoever he is with can benefit from that change.

What seems like an eternity goes by and I've basically written nothing. I don't know if I even want to go abroad but the idea is intriguing. I would love to travel and learn, possibly learn another language. I'd tried my hand at Spanish and Italian, both of which I was decent at, but not fluid. Maybe that could be a reason I'm interested in going? God, I have no fucking clue.

"You look like you're concentrating ridiculously hard. You always look like that when you're writing." I look up from my laptop to see Carter sitting comfortably across from me.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"Oh, I don't know," he glances at his phone, "about ten minutes now. What the hell are you doing out at nearly three in the morning? And doing homework on a Saturday for that matter?"

"I was told I should think about going abroad by Professor Haddix."

"Derek Haddix? The English Lit professor everyone wants to bang?" I furrow my brow at that. "Oh come on, Monica."

"Come on what?"

"I heard he's referred to as Professor McFuckMe," he deadpanned.

"Why? Because he fucks his students?"

"Not that I know of but all the girls think he's hot and want to fuck him. At least that's what I've heard. Do you not think so?" I contemplate his statement in my mind and now that I think about it, yes, he's pretty attractive. I'd just never thought about it because of Boston. I had no reason to look at other men in that fashion.

"I guess he's a good-looking guy." I shrug.

He lets out a little laugh before sipping his drink, "that's what I always loved about you. Your eyes never wandered. You always wanted me and solely me." Then he frowns, "well, until you didn't."

"Did you know?" I couldn't help but blurt out.

"Know what?"

"About Boston's heart?"

"Oh yeah, his heart condition? That's like public knowledge and plus he'd joked about it when he was here with Eric and I." I look down at my drink, avoiding his gaze, not wanting him to see the hurt there. "Wait, you didn't know?"

"I know now." As if he'd known he'd been talked about, Boston starts calling my phone. I stare at it, thinking how it's almost half past midnight his time and he's just now calling. I stare at our picture and then flip it over. Carter arches a brow but doesn't say anything. The phone rings again and I let out a sigh.

"You going to get that?"

"I probably should." I reach forward and grab ahold of it, seeing our picture again. "Can you watch my stuff?" Carter nods before I head outside answering Boston's phone call with, "hello?" A couple walks by me laughing loudly, muffling his response. "What? I didn't hear that." I plug my other ear.

"Wait, where are you?"

"I'm at a coffee shop."

"At three-thirty in the morning? You texted me that you had gone to bed."

"I laid down but I couldn't fall sleep. And if you thought I was sleeping why would you call me back to back?"

"I want to talk to you."

"About what? What was so important that you couldn't wait until tomorrow to talk to me about it?"

"I miss you." I close my eyes at the words and lean against the brick of the building. "Hugo, Vikki, and I are out and I cannastap thinking about you." There it is.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Maybe alil bit."

"Well, have fun, I'm going to go. I should probably head back to the dorm."

"Waitaminnut."

"Boston, I really don't feel like talking to you while you're intoxicated, okay?"

"M'sorry. I juss think imunna lose you." I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a long sigh. "Fuck, m'sorry. I shouldnnove called."

"Please get home safe."

"'Fore you go, tell me you're not with Carter." I glance over to the window seeing Carter sitting at our table. "Fuuuck, you're with him, aren't you?" He oddly sounds way more sober than five seconds ago. "Why? Why are you with him?"

"I ran into him at the coffeeshop. He was with a date, it's nothing."

"Is he still with the date?"

"No. She left."

"So, it's just the two of you, all alone, at a coffeeshop at three-thirty in the morning. Gotcha. Yeah, I shouldn't have called."

"Boston—"

"No, it's all good go get that future that you want so bad. Just fu—" his voice fades out but I can still hear it in the background even though I can't make out exactly what he's saying.

"Monica love, I'm sorry but our boy here has had a bit too much to drink and is out of sorts. I figured I'd take the phone away from him before he can make any more of a COMPLETE ASS of himself." She said the words to him, I could tell by the semi-distant sound. "He's over here drinking himself into a shitty mess thinking he can't make you, his wife, happy."

"He told you about that?" I feel shell-shocked.

"Yeah, he did. He also told me a lot of other stuff and why he's got good reason to be scared of losing you. Let me take him home and tell him to get his shit together before he calls you back."

"Alright."

"He loves you, a lot."

"I know. I love him too." And with that, I hang up the phone.

A/N:
Happy Thursday!

What are you all thinking about Mr. Haddix's suggestion that Monica study abroad?