We made a new rule together. Whenever a joke was hiding something important, we had to say the important thing too, even if we needed a minute to find the words. We didn’t become perfect at it, and there were evenings when one of us had to stop and ask what the other actually meant. But the asking no longer felt like proof that something was wrong; it felt like work we both intended to keep doing.
A year after the night in my car, Noah and Jess got married. Maya stood beside Jess in a deep green dress, and I stood beside Noah, trying to pay attention while the woman I loved smiled at me from the other side of the ceremony. Noah caught the look and whispered that I needed to stop having my own romantic subplot during his wedding. I told him to focus on his vows, which earned the exact expression I deserved.
