with every beat of my heart √ h.s.

dream a little dream of me

did i believe in anything meeting the standard of perfection? originally, no. typically, there is a flaw in everything and everyone. so why couldn't i find one in genevieve? despite a broken out fight of ours, there was not one thing about her i disliked. in my eyes, she was perfect in every sense of the word.

i remember our first fight as a married couple was like most; stupid and avoidable. work had exhausted me, and unfortunately that led to irritability. when i came home she had told me that she told her parents we would be over for dinner. i was dead set on finding a comfortable seat on the couch with genevieve cuddled into my side rather than cleaning up and going to her childhood home. "i'm so tired, evie. this is so last minute."

she had a pout on her lips, and i would usually fall to my knees and follow her every request. "it's been over a month since they've seen us. they miss us." family was always so important to her, and i respected her for it. she was bonded to them, especially after the death of her brother. i should have given her exactly what she wanted because she deserved that at the very least. i shouldn't have complained about going to her parents' home for dinner. it was a righteous dick move on my part.

i'm not sure how going back and forth with normal voices can elevate into slamming doors and angry brown eyes staring at me with disappointment. it was the worst to see that emotion flash behind her eyes because i felt so unworthy, i needed to do everything i could to make her want to stay with me. and there i was making her raise her voice and lock herself in our bedroom.

she turned the volume of her music up, so she couldn't hear my pathetic knocks on the door when i wanted to halfheartedly apologize. she knew i still needed to cool down and let me do so without her in my presence. she was listening to her favorite song replay for at least two hours, and it would have drove me mad had it not become my favorite song as well. i had grown to love many things genevieve loved, including myself. but at that moment i despised myself for making my wife exasperated with my antics.

it was our wedding song. ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong's 'dream a little dream of me' was filling our house beautifully. it was like she could calm me and my temper without being in the same room as me. i was twisting my wedding band around my finger, a habit that kicked in when i found myself stressed, or nervous.

i heard the music abruptly stop and soon the bedroom door's locks were being unfastened. i looked up from my miserable spot on the couch and saw those big brown eyes staring back at me. i immediately stood up, and slowly began my steps toward her, and so she ran at me. her legs carried her and launched her off of the ground and into my arms. i spun her around and kissed every place on her head that i could with apologies being muffled from my lips against her skin.

her fingers wound themselves through my hair, her legs still tightly wrapped around my waist. she pulled back and held my face in her hands, slightly smushing my cheeks together. she didn't say anything, and i was too afraid to. i feared saying the wrong thing would set us back five steps. she just stared directly into my eyes, intimidating me with every second that passed. evie had a way of reassuring me with the simplest gestures. this was just another one of those reassuring moments.

we hadn't gone to dinner at her parent's home, but we were tangled between the sheets. i kept apologizing for being a proper asshole, so she shut me up with her lips. she was a magnificent woman with me as putty in her hands.