Beau could remember the first moment with his beloved August. The day they met as tweens on a visit, with August walking into the room with a camera in hand. Her movie maker phase, which was perfect for the trip she and her father were taking. This leg of the trip was showing August where he had grown up and taking her to meet his best friend since fourth grade. Beau’s own father. Beau found an instant friendship with her. A couple of twelve year olds hanging out for a week, wishing they lived in the same part of the country.

There were so many more firsts after that. A month later came the first time they chatted online, in what he jokingly called the ancient times of dial-up and AOL. The two of them snuck on, sometimes late at night, to talk about everything going on in their lives and how the adults never understood, because when do they ever understand? At fifteen came the first time he was comforted by her over a breakup. She drew some pictures in MS paint and tried to remind him how he was better than Milly and deserved so much better. An early sign he should have seen of August’s crush on him. Then there was the first time he comforted her about a boy who made her feel worthless. That had led to the most important one to him; the first time they realized at the same time how much they loved each other.

Life had changed so much since their teen years. Now Beau was thirty-seven, and his beloved wife thirty-eight, with two kids and a cat. The twins had been an unexpected but pleasant surprise as they had only wanted two, three children at the most. Given the string of bad luck over the years, Beau had been especially glad he could have some small hand in that, given they never got another chance to really try for a second time. But it was fine. The twins were sometimes more than they could handle anyway. Especially now that they were in fifth grade and obviously so, so grown.

Even careers had changed somewhat over time. August was working as second in command at her branch, despite complications she had faced a few years back. Beau had started his career with Stimmy Co as a communications writer. He was damn good at it too, but the hours were sometimes long and unforgiving. Not the ideal position when your wife gets hurt. After needing to take time off to help care for August after the accident, Beau had gotten permission to work remotely. Just so he could keep himself available for whenever August overexerted herself and couldn’t drive herself home. It wasn’t long before his manager had made quiet comments about how he couldn’t keep working remotely. Between that and the twins suddenly getting special education plans and such, he got tired of dealing with the excuses.

August had encouraged him to leave, pointing out their home had been paid off thanks to a bit of inheritance money they got from his family. She was fairly certain they could even just live off her paycheck. So, Beau turned in his notice and started working freelance. Plus he finally had the chance to start a science fiction novel, the one he had always wanted to write but was too scared to even try. Granted, it made the budget a bit tight. But he pulled in enough cash from contests and freelance work to make cash for some things here and there. He even had a bit of time each week to go to Comic Makers Dreams to work on models with other fellow nerds and geeks.

All of these were things he would talk about, if given a chance, forever grateful for the chances August had given him. Which had, today, led to a conversation about spouses in general. Unfortunately, this led to Derick ranting for the last twenty minutes about how his wife was forcing him to get rid of his collection. “I mean that collection could be our retirement one day but no, I barely stopped her from taking it all to Goodwill!”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Like you would try to sell it at sixty-five anyway. And the market is unstable.”

“And I’ve seen your house, Derick, it looks ready to burst open. She’s got a point.” Don handed over a paper towel to mop up some of the mess Derick had made.

“Oh, you’re married to another guy, what do you know? Men know what’s important to keep, and the wives just nag away because they can’t let us be happy.” He half mopped up the mess, ignoring the glare from Betty and turning to Beau for support.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?”

Beau had been rather successful at staying out of the rant he had accidentally caused. He hated confrontation. But here he was dragged into it by his ponytail. Again. “I mean . . . August isn’t like that with me. She’s fine with my collection. She has her collection too.”

Betty was smirking. Not an uncommon thing as she often used what Beau said to make her point. “See? It’s just because you have too much crap.”

John, the only one at the table who was single, chose this exact moment to stoke the fires. “That’s because Beau here is whipped. He doesn’t do a thing without his wife’s say so. No, Derick, what you need to do is put your foot down and be a real man. Tell her she can sell her own crap.”

Betty slid the snacks away from John just as he went to reach for them. His hand grasped for the food while she spoke up. “Don’t listen to John. He never has good advice.”

“I do too.”

Beau started packing things up. “John . . . you told me you were going to get me a girl to fuck before I got married."

“Yeah, so?” John tried reaching for the food again, only for Betty to hand it over to Beau, mouthing ‘for the kids’.

“It was 2 weeks before my wedding. You even said it where she could have heard!”

“Yeah, well, then tell us all, great master, how to woo and romance your woman, huh? What do you need to do to keep romance alive and your wife from nagging and throwing away your stuff?” John leaned forward, waiting for an answer that wasn’t going to come.

“I gotta go. Kids need to be picked up.” He put the last of the supplies in his bag and headed off, still able to hear the conversation, with Betty trying to defend him.

“That’s not fair, John . . . guy’s been married like fourteen years. Romance just kinda dies off by then. And he still knows more than you if he stayed married.”

As Beau closed the door behind him, he could hear John respond. “Well, as long as the momentum keeps going at least. No romance, no marriage eventually.”

Everything around Beau felt like it was dropping off into the background. That was a worry he had. Before he left his job, he felt he at least contributed evenly. He could surprise August with a trinket from her favorite novels or anime. Even a video game, those sweet ones she liked with the farming and town building. But now? He cleaned the house, heated up dinner . . . but he couldn’t think of the last time they were really romantic with each other. That he took her out on a date.

As he sat in the car thinking, Beau looked at the box, the model inside slightly shifted as the wind outside picked up, rocking the old rustbucket of a car. No, instead he went to a comic shop without August, painting robots and talking about comics he couldn’t afford to get. If that wasn’t bad enough, he sometimes had to ask her for help with the chores. And she looked so tired some nights, trying to hide her pain. Mentally keeping track of all the things the family needed to get done for him because his ADHD made it difficult for him to keep that sort of focus. He couldn’t even properly cook much because he never learned how. August had taught him a few things, but she enjoyed it so much and he . . . didn’t.

Surely she still loved him as much as he loved her. But love was a promise, to quote one of his favorite tv shows. You had to tend to it, keep it going. And there was the debate of if he could keep that love alive if Beau kept going the way he did. If he didn’t, well . . . he didn’t think they’d divorce at least. August wouldn’t be fond of the idea. The idea of doing that to each other? To the kids? She just couldn’t do it.

Still if things didn’t change, how long before they were basically roommates with kids rather than lovers?