Page 74 of Faking the Face Off

“Ah,” he says wagging a finger in the air, “but it’s not about miracles. It’s about a lifetime.”

“A reason, a season, or a lifetime.” My cheeks are sore from all the smiling tonight, but I put them through another rep. “How have I managed to luck out with you?”

“I know, right?” he says, puffing up his chest. “You landed a hockey player, you lucky girl.”

“I landed a guy who has a job that will take him out on the road more during the year than I’d like,” I say with a laugh as he tickles my sides. “But I’ll be here waiting for you each time.”

“And I’ll fly you to my games,” Ollie adds, punctuating his words with a peck on my lips.

“Yeah you will, because I need to pay rent with my new salary.” I laugh.

“I don’t want us to go more than a few days apart from now on,” he says, his tone serious. He hooks his fingers through mybelt loop and tugs me in closer. “I love you and I want to make sure we stay like this.”

I tilt my head to the side, our eyes locking. “I think we can make that happen. Have your people call my people…”

I jump back playfully as Ollie takes a swipe, trying to grab me, both of us laughing. I see a chance and I run in a circle around the truck. I know he’ll follow me. I’d follow him. It’s what we do. We’re here for each other, and always have been.

A couple of months ago, if you had asked me what life looked like in the future for me, I would have laughed if anyone had tried to tell me it would look like this. Like two people, in love, laughing in a parking lot, who have their whole lives ahead of them.

I’ve got no clue where we’ll be in six months or a year, but as long as we’re together I know it’ll be great.

Because a love like this feels like flying.

SIX MONTHS LATER…

ANNA

The afternoon light streams in through the arched windows, pooling on the hardwood floors like it has nowhere better to be. I’m curled up on my new and slightly used second hand sofa (thank you to the local op shop for this find), my legs tucked beneath me and a cup of tea cooling on the coffee table amongst a scattered pile of paperwork. The sofa’s lumpy in just the right way—soft but firm enough to hold me after a long day, like this one. Across from me, a black metal bookshelf, which has probably seen better days, leans slightly to its right as if the weight of all my unread novels and all of my little plant babies is just a little too much. I keep telling myself I’ll sort it out, but somehow, the leaning feels right, like it matches the rhythm of this place.

A breeze sneaks through the slightly cracked window, stirring the corner of the gauzy curtain and carrying the faintest scent of the bakery down the street. Moving this close to Shelly’s will be the bane of my existence, if not my waistline.

I reach for my tea, letting my eyes wander over the worn molding that runs along the ceiling. It’s chipped in places, paint peeling here and there, but there’s a charm to it, a reminder that this building has been here for years before me and will likelyoutlast me too. It’s not perfect—not even close––but it’s still standing. I can relate.

Pulling my thoughts to the side, I take a giant breath and pick up a few slips of paper, scanning them quickly. Contracts for Travis, ones he needs me to review over the weekend so he can present them to our clients on Monday morning for signing.

Taking the risk and approaching Travis to ask for a job can go on the list of Top Ten Bravest Moments in Anna’s Life. From the word ‘go’, which was also my first day of work, I’ve worked my butt off to make sure I was available when Travis needed me to be, picked up any and all slack he wants me to, and I stay proactive by bringing ideas for new clients to him, as well as ideas we can use on the clients he has, weekly.

Putting it simply: I love my job.

The sound of keys jingling in the door pulls my attention away. I watch as the front door slowly opens, Ollie peeking around the corner and knocking after the fact.

“Hello,” he calls out, his eyes landing on me as he winks. He kicks the door open and pulls the keys out. “Hope you don’t mind that I used my emergency key?”

I give him a fake sigh of despair and throw my hands in the air. “Is it a true emergency though?”

Ollie grins, hoisting two large bags into the air. “It’s Maryland crabs.”

My favorite summertime meal. I’m loving Ollie’s downtime between seasons. Somehow we’ve morphed into a nice routine where he comes over for dinner almost every night. Is it a honeymoon phase? It could be, but I’m willing to bet it isn’t…it’s us.

“Well,” I say, pushing off the sofa to stand up, I make my way into the kitchen. “Let me get you what you need.”

Ollie leans in and kisses my cheek as he breezes past. “They’re already steamed, so I just need your table.”

He plops the bags on the counter, getting to work pulling out multiple containers of food, a few small wooden mallets for cracking open our crabs, napkins, and a stack of newspapers, which he tosses my way.

“Think fast, Denault,” Ollie says as he chucks it.

I catch it easily, taking a few sheets of paper and placing them on top of one another on the table, making a solid makeshift table cloth, leaving Ollie to prep our dinner.

---