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There, I said it.
“I don’t have any clue what I’m doing, either. Not only have I never felt this way, but I’ve never felt like someone, even my own mother, loved me. I don’t know what it’s like to love or be loved, but I’m willing to try all of it. Let’s figure this out together. Put your damn pride aside, and let me love you. Hell, help me love you properly because I’m afraid I don’t know how,” he pleads.
I don’t answer him because my tongue won’t move. I can’t form words. I fist the hem of his shirt and sniffle, pushing my head against the broad chest I know so well. His smell fills my nose again, and he slides his arms around my back and rocks me into him like he’s comforting a child.
He pushes my hair back and buries his face in my hair. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at cucumber and mint bodywash and shampoo the same way if you push me away right now, Savannah.”
“Does it look like I’m pushing you away?”
We stay like that for minutes, but I could stay cuddled in his arms for eternity. The overwhelming feeling I had when I met him, like he was a savory, warm bowl of macaroni and cheese, makes me chuckle into his chest.
“What’s so funny?” he whispers. “I find nothing funny about begging for the woman I love to give us a chance.”
But he does find it funny. When I look up, the corners of his mouth are tilted up in a wry grin. I run my fingers down his stubble. “I was just thinking about how comfortable I am with you. I’ve never felt like this around anyone. Could this work?”
He smiles and pushes the bridge of his nose to mine. “Savannah Smart, will you be my 2087?”
“What’s so special about 2087?”
He shrugs. “It’s a random number that just came out of my mouth, but it’s sixty-four years from now. I’ll be in my nineties. I figure I’ll either be dead or too old to notice anything.”
“Well, I guess every day will be a fresh start,” I say, pulling him down to kiss me.
We move our lips together in the familiar dance from the last months, our tongues touching and exploring. But this is a kiss of love. No rushing. No pretenses. No lingering promise of loan money paid by my mother and no shadow of him living in my guest room for a warm place to stay. We simply revel in the existence of the person in front of us.
I break the kiss first, and his lips search for a moment, missing mine. “Here’s to 2087,” I say, letting him pick me up. I snake my legs around him, and he carries me down the hall to my bedroom. Our bedroom. “But don’t you dare have a 2086 that isn’t me.”
February 15, 2024 – Wilder
“I can do this, right?” I glance at Gus in the mirror as I straighten my bow tie, fussing with the fabric and making sure it’s straight.
He doesn’t look up from the magazine he’s reading and casually leans against the doorframe of the small room that connects to the chapel. “You’ve done weirder shit.”
“I’ve never married a woman after a three-month engagement and written my own vows to say in front of everyone we know.”
“Well, lucky for you, she only invited a handful of people, and you know five people from work.”
I nod my head. That’s true. It’s not like I have family to invite to my own wedding. Gus is my best man, and the other guests on my side of the chapel are the guys from the garage and their partners that probably just showed up for the reception food and beer. Savannah’s my family now, and it’s about to be legal.
Nerves flutter through my stomach, and I take deep, cleansing breaths through my nose.
“You know what’s funny?” Gus asks.
“Please tell me something funny. I’m about to lose my shit.”
“Savannah scheduled your wedding for noon on the day you usually bail on your cuffing season partners.”
That detail wasn’t lost on me. We had settled on the date of our wedding, wanting it to be the day we realized dating contracts were stupid and honesty was best, but I laughed when I saw the official invitation. “Why noon?” I had asked. She responded that she preferred to take her time and eat a nice breakfast. She won’t be rushed.
That’s my girl.
I pat my pockets and make sure the paper is in them, even though I have it all memorized. If I freeze and space out, I need the paper in my pants to make sure I can get through the vows I wrote for her. “You have the ring, right?” I ask Gus.
“Right here,” he says, tapping his breast pocket. “Want me to hold the vows you wrote and keep checking for?”
I move my hand. “Is it that obvious that I’m worried I’ll forget them?”
He pushes himself off the doorframe and saunters over to me. Turning me away from the mirror, he straightens my collar and twists the bowtie ever so slightly into a perfect position. “I think you’ll remember them just fine,” he says, tapping me on the shoulders. “And if you don’t, I think you’ll look at her and make up some bullshit on the spot.”
