Our Time Will Come, by Brian Taylor

Sometimes after work, but usually on weekends, she and I'd sit outside, hold hands, drink beer, and look towards the stars.

I'd say, "Our time will come." She'd smile.

Our marriage seemed strong, but the money wasn't. Everything got more expensive; bills, groceries, unreliable vehicles, etc.

Despite this, she still wanted a baby. I'd answer, half-heartedly, "Maybe someday."

We divorced last year. Mostly friendly, but it still hurt. Several of our friends tell me she seems really happy lately; almost glowing.

I never wanted to know that.

I told her our time would come. Turns out I was only half-right.