“Want to catch a movie later?” Peter asked.

“Actually I’m going out,” you answered without looking up from your phone.

“What did you have in mind? We haven’t been out in a few weeks.”

“Not we, me. I’m going to a restaurant opening with Megan,” you replied back in a snarky tone.

Peter crossed his arms. “Would be nice to go with you. I hardly see you anymore.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that?” Brushing past him you walked to the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. You still had a limp and pain from a torn ACL repair over a year ago The injury had ended your dancing career. Another surgery was inevitable since PT and meds weren’t working.

“You’re blaming me?” Peter raised his voice as he stalked into the bathroom behind you.

“I’m not the one who canceled plans at the last minute. You’re not the one who was sitting at a restaurant for an hour then not showing. I didn’t forget your birthday and I sure as hell didn’t forget our anniversary! So yeah. I’m blaming you, Peter.” The look on Peter’s face looked like someone smacked him across the face. It almost made you feel bad. Almost.

Once Peter was out and the door was closed you finished getting ready. The apartment was quiet when you came out to get dressed. Peter was gone, thankfully.

“Where have you been? It’s 3am,” Peter’s low voice startled you.

“Out. And I know how to tell time,” you replied.

“I called Megan. She said that she left at 11pm and you were still there. She thought you were heading home no long after her.”

“Well I decided to stay longer,” you said with slightly slurred speech. Kicking off your heels you slowly made your way to the bedroom. The pain in your knee was excruciating. You hoped the pills you got tonight would help. Digging through your purse, you found the bottle and popped a couple in your mouth. You slugged back a drink of water then finished getting ready for bed.

“Who were you with?” Peter demanded as he watched you finish getting ready for bed.

You slipped one of his T-shirts over your head spinning to face him.  “None of your business. Just like it was none of my business when you didn’t come home a few months ago.” You poked your finger in his chest.

Peter looked at you in disbelief. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Peter. I know you fucked that brunette you met at the bar. Sonny said you didn’t stop staring at her all evening.” And that should have bothered you, but it didn’t.

“What the hell were you doing talking to Sonny?” he boomed. “Is that who you were with tonight? Did you screw Sonny?”

You met his gaze, narrowing your eyes. “Yes. I went home with him and we fucked every way you can imagine.”

Peter clenched his jaw. His fists balled up this side. “You…I can’t believe you…”

“Well believe it. And it wasn’t the first time either. And don’t act all high and mighty with me Peter Stone, you cheated first,” you shot back.

Peter grabbed your face, kissing you hard. His other hand grasped your ass and pulled you close to him. You pulled back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to remind you who you belong to,” Peter husked. His hand slipped into your panties.

“Ahhh…” you gasped when his fingers slid through your wet folds. “Remind me then.”

Peter elicited a growl from low in his throat before he pushed you onto the bed.

You and Peter barely spoke, but that didn’t stop the two of you having sex. Sonny was getting to needy and clingy so you ended the affair. The pain your knee caused was getting worse and you were turning to harder pain medications you bought off the street. Oxy’s were your drug of choice but you’d take Perc’s, Vic’s smoke marijuana, but you never got into the hard stuff like heroin or cocaine. That stuff scared you. You basically existed on pain meds and alcohol.

Work was tedious. You had to take temp jobs as a receptionist. Knowing you’d never dance professionally again put you into a deeper depression.

It all came to a screeching halt one evening when you were on your way home from work. You stopped by the local bodega for a bottle of wine and to buy more pills from the guy who worked the counter.

As you walked out you were stopped by a plain clothed cop. “Ma’am. Let me see the bag please.”

For a second you froze, then everything Peter had told you to do if you got stopped or arrested came back. You handed the bag over to the cop who passed to his partner. He pulled the bottle of pills from the bag. “That’s funny. You don’t look like a Sam.”

The cop behind your grasped your wrists and put the cuffs on, tight. “Ma’am you’re under arrest for illegal possession of narcotics. Anything you say…”

“Y/L/N. Your bail has been posted. You’ll be given instructions about your court date,” the officer informed you.

You were given your belongings and walked to the entrance. Peter was standing with his hands in his pockets waiting for you. He rushed to you when he spotted you and pulled you to his chest. “You came.” Tears spilled down your cheeks. Your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, my darling. I am so sorry.” He kissed your head as he rocked side to side. “I saw the signs but I-”

“Not your fault,” you sniffed and squeezed him tighter.

After getting home you showered. You wrapped yourself in a big, terry bathrobe and went to the kitchen where Peter was fixing a late dinner. “Smells good,” you commented.

Peter gave you a small smile and gestured to the stool at the counter. “It’ll be done in a couple of minutes.”

“So, we should be able to get you a plea bargain since it’s your first offense,” Peter explained as he looked over the charges after dinner.

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. Your attention was to your fingers in your lap.

Peter tilted your chin so you had to look at him. “I know you’re scared but I’m going to be with you every step of the way. You’ll get through this, I promise.” Peter saw so much of himself in you. He knew all too well about addiction.

After all was said in done you plead guilty to a misdemeanor. You were given suspended jail time, a $1000 fine and court-ordered rehab. Thankfully Peter knew a good lawyer.

One year later…

“Tonight we are going to recognize Y/N. She has been clean for a year. C’mon up,” your sponsor announced. The room broke into a round of applause.

Peter squeezed your hand then kissed your cheek. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear.

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile.

When you got to the front of the room you took a deep breath. You had told your story many times before but each time was like the first. “On this day a year ago, I was sitting in a cell in the early stages of withdrawal. My addiction to pain medications, preferably oxycodone, started a few months prior. I was a professional dancer and I tore my ACL which ended my career. My first surgery was a failure. My pain got worse, I was depressed, unable to do one of the things I loved most and my relationship with my boyfriend was deteriorating…”

“You are amazing you know that?” Peter said as the two of you laid in bed after making love. Over the past year, you and Peter had grown so much as a couple. He was right beside you through court, withdrawals, rehab and continued to be your rock.

Couples counseling helped to rebuild your relationship as well as attending church together again. You both admitted your affairs and mistakes you made in the relationship. Peter shared his story of addiction and how it took one false accusation to make him see the light.

“You ain’t so bad yourself,” you replied then kissed the tip of his nose.

Peter grinned. He pushed a lock of hair from your face. “Marry me.” It was a request, not a question.

Your eyes widened,  your mouth went dry and you forgot how to talk. Finally, you were able to squeak out, “I love you. Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you. ”

Peter cupped your face and gave you a tender kiss. He then rolled over and pulled open the drawer of his nightstand. When he turned back you, he opened the Tiffany blue box. A stunning diamond solitaire was nestled inside the black velvet.

“Oh my God. Peter. It’s gorgeous!”

Peter pulled the ring from the box and took your left hand in his and slid the ring on your fourth digit. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.”