Page 55 of Forget Me Not

“You excited?” I ask as we make our way down the stairs.

“To finally see the place, you so lovingly refer to as ‘our happy ever after’?” she mocks, but I can tell she likes it too, “Yeah, I’m pretty excited.”

So am I. Have been ever since I first clicked on it during my two-week war with every real estate website google had to offer. I was starting to give up, convinced nothing out there was ever going to show up in the right location, the right set up and most importantly, the right price. Beachside living is spendy, and I make a good living.

Then, out of the blue, there it was. The perfect house for us. Two-minute walk from the shop, two bedroom - two bath bungalow, one block in from the ocean. Even has a backyard and rooftop deck. Talk about a good find. It’s basically just sitting there, waiting for us and the hammock I intend to buy just as soon as I sign the lease.

We stroll comfortably down the sidewalk, Cooper lost in thought as her eyes wander along the pavement ahead of us. I don’t interrupt her. I’ve learned that this is something she does often. At first I worried, but I’ve asked often enough now to realize it’s usually work related, some sort of design she’s trying to visualize or conceptualize. Colors she’d like to try it in, how many she thinks she’ll need. The list goes on. Point being, there’s nothing to worry about. Some quiet, creative thinking is important to her artistic process.

She’s just started humming to herself, a sign I’ve concluded means she has completely disconnected from the world around her, when we turn down the walkway leading up to the house.

“Look up,” I prompt quietly, squeezing her hand to convey my excitement.

“Oh,” she gasps. “Wow. We can afford this place?” She turns her head, searching her surroundings, now that she’s conscious of them.

“Yep. It’s privately owned, so they’re saving money by not using a leasing agent. At least, that’s what the guy said when I called about it.”

She still seems skeptical. “Huh. So, who’s meeting us here?”

I point at the front door and the large flower pot beside it. “No one. Keys are buried in the pansies along the rim of the pot.”

I watch as her eyes narrow slightly at the words. “That didn’t seem odd to you?”

I shrug. “You’re the one who’s always telling me that beachside people are more laid back than city people.”

“I guess.” Her face relaxes some and she’s even smiling slightly as we walk up to the large array of pansies decorating the entryway. It’s a bit much if you ask me, but given the way her eyes are lighting up the longer she stares at them, I have no intention of moving them.

I slide my hand inside the pot, the soft petals brushing against the back of it as I move it all around the edge until my fingers catch on a small ring and I pull it out. Keys.

“You ready to walk inside our future home?” I ask, dangling the keys in her face.

She claps her hands together, giddiness finally getting the better of her. “Yes, please!

Feeling like I’m about to give her the world on a platter, I move for the lock, pride and love pummeling their way through my system at a rapid, almost dizzying speed. I’ve waited seven years for this moment. Seven lost years of wishing my every fantasy was real and living the heartbreak of always being told it wasn’t. Until now.

The lock clicks and the door swings open, sunlight spilling onto the clay tile lining the foyer and reaching beyond into the main living space.

I hear Cooper’s delight escape in a contented sigh as she steps inside and begins to explore.

It’s perfect. Even more so in person than in the pictures I saw. It’s so perfect in fact, the hammock I want is already set up in the backyard.

“So, you want it?” I tease, already knowing the answer. In the ten minutes we’ve been here, she’s been in and out of the master bedroom three times already, each time running in with a new idea for decorating the space.

“I do,” she squeals. “I really, really do!”

“Then you’ll have it,” I promise, moving in closer until our bodies align. Her toes touch mine, our knees knock and everything above the waist is completely connected right up to our lips. Where I kiss her. For a very, very long time. We’re home. Finally.

Cooper

It’s been two days since we signed the lease. Two days since we made it official. Moving in together. Building a life together. It seems a whirlwind of sorts in some moments and years in the making in others. I can’t decide which causes me less anxiety. Mostly I’m just trying to live in the now and worry less about how it came about. I’m here. In the present. With Reed. Life is good.

Cammie was disappointed when she heard we were moving but has since agreed it was for the best. This new attitude came about shortly after learning the beach was a thirty second walk from my new front door. I’m sure the two are completely unrelated though. Not.

Now that we have our home picked out, Reed is busy trying to determine his next best move career wise. It’s odd to think of him working for his dad. Odder still to think he likes being a lawyer. He only just passed the bar a few months ago, but his dad’s had him working alongside him on cases for years now. Defense attorneys. I know they serve a purpose. An important one at that. But I also know not everyone they defend is innocent, and on some level, this irks my moral compass and sends it spinning in all sorts of unpleasant directions.

Reed and I spent hours talking about this very thing back in high school. Back then we’d gone over all sorts of scenarios, compromises to appease his father, yet settle his own doubts and apprehensions about the laid-out path before him. Environmental law. Pro-bono cases. Representing the kids getting screwed by the system. That particular dream had sent my heart all a flutter once upon a time. I think it was then I knew I loved him. Loved him not only for the overwhelming goodness in his heart, but also for the way he loved me. Loved me so tenderly he wanted to dedicate his life to righting the wrong which had been done to me so long ago. He’d never be able to save me from my past, but saving others from my fate seemed the most romantic way imaginable of saving my future.

He lost all of those dreams in the accident right along with his memories. But even if his family managed to put him back on the track they always wanted for him, his ideals are still there. Still the same in the man as they were in the boy. He just needs someone to have a little faith in him, in his abilities to tackle the big battles. And I’m here to do just that.

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