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Pictures I didn’t know he’d taken of me.
My heart flips as I enter the bedroom and find more of them, me with his family at potlucks or wrestling or hanging out with my girls. The pictures are beautifully taken.
Jesse stands near the back sliding door, his dark hair mussed by the ocean air. He’s taken his suit jacket off, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his forearm muscles working as he clenches and unclenches his fists, shakes his hands at his sides.
“I’m nervous,” he says. “I didn’t want you to think I was a stalker. But I wanted to…” Jesse clears his throat. “I’m not good with words.”
I can’t find anything to say either.
“It’s been you since before I understood what it meant to be in love.”
“In love?”
“Yes,” he says. “In love. Before I knew what it meant. But I know now.” He comes forward a step. “I know what it means to be in love.”
“What does it mean?” I ask.
Because I’m genuinely curious, even with tears spilling down my cheeks, even as I study the years’ worth of pining for me. I want to hear it from his mouth. I need it like I need to breathe.
“It means… It means…” He scrubs his hand over the back of his neck. “It means I quit my job today. Because you taught me that I don’t need to be like my grandfather to be good enough.”
“Jesse.”
He holds up a palm. “It means that the ring on your finger is real.”
“Real?”
“Yes. It’s real. The diamond is real. It’s not a moissanite. I couldn’t— I couldn’t put a fake ring on your finger, Marci.” He takes a break. “Love means that I will do anything to take away the pain others have caused you. That I will spend the rest of my life ensuring that you wake up to fresh coffee and pancakes.That I will carry you to bed when you are tired. I will care for you when you are sick. I will stand for you when no one else will. And I will accept you as you are. Now and forever, Marci Walsh.”
“Jesse.” The word is strangled.
“It means that I love you with the wretched, torn parts of my soul. And I hope that it will be enough for you to love me back.” He drops to his knees in front of me, taking both of my hands in his. He kisses them and presses them to his cheeks. His eyes are fixed on me. Blue as the waves crashing on the beach outside our home. “Please, Marci, please be myrealwife. You’ve helped me realize that I can love, and that I want to love, and that I was always worthy of love, and there is nothing in the world that I won’t do to make you happy.”
“Please stand,” I whisper. “You don’t deserve to kneel in front of anyone, Jesse.”
Jesse gets up, and I throw myself onto him, wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, yes, yes. I want to be with you forever. Forever.”
“You swear?” he chokes it out.
“I swear. I love you too, Jesse Taylor. I love you more than anything.”
He cups the back of my head in his hands and brings his lips to mine, claiming me completely. He walks me back to the bed, and we fall onto it together, kissing, crying, and laughing. Because this is it.
This is us.
We’ve taken each other’s wounds and helped each other heal. There’s nothing fake about who we’ve become or our future together. Especially when we’ll be spending every second of it in each other’s arms.
Mr. Skitters meows from the bedroom door, and Jesse and I quit kissing, sharing an amused look.
“We’d better feed him,” I say. “He’ll never give us any peace.”
“This is what we get for being cat parents,” he replies.
Jesse and I head into the kitchen of our cute cottage, Mr. Skitters’ purring, his little ginger tail shaking as he follows us, and I capture the moment in my memory. Like a photograph.
Epilogue
