Page 3 of Easton

“It’ll happen,” she assures me with another sweet smile.

I am so ready to go to college right now.

But there is one thing I’ll miss—Claire.

With that in mind, I say, “You’ll have to come visit me in Boston.”

“I will,” she replies. “Plus, I’m sure we’ll hang out when you come home on breaks.”

Claire is planning to stay here in Phoenix and attend Arizona State. I’m happy about that, because I’d hate to lose touch with her.

“For sure,” I agree with a solid nod.

Sighing, she says softly, “Still, I’ll miss you, Easton.”

A pang of sadness hits my heart.

Running my fingers through my hair, I reply, “I know. I’m going to miss you too. Like, a fucking lot.”

As the sun sizzles down into the horizon beyond us, painting the desert in shades of red, pink, and orange, Claire whispers, “You’re my very best friend, Easton.”

Her hands are on the table, and I place one of mine over hers.

Squeezing gently, I tell her, “You’re mine too.”

Flipping her hand over and entwining her fingers with mine, she says, “Can I ask you for something huge?”

We’ve never held hands like this, and I like it more than I should. It makes me want to touch her in other ways.

I quickly remind myself that we’re just friends, and friends can hold hands without it having to mean anything more than mere affection.

“You can ask me anything,” I reply, my voice kind of cracking. “You know that, Claire.”

“Okay, here goes…” She blows out a breath, then says, “So, last night, my dad gave me the conditions in regard to when I can access my trust fund.”

“Okayyy,” I reply, confused as to where this could be heading.

I mean, I know her dad created a trust fund for her a while ago, but it’s not like she talks about it very often. In fact, I think it only ever came up when she first told me about it, and that was ages ago.

Squeezing our intertwined hands, she blurts out in a rush, “Anyway, I get access to it when I turn twenty-seven. That’s ten years from now. But there is one condition my dad put into place.”

“What’s the condition?” I ask, truly curious.

“I have to be married to get the money.”

“Wait, what?” I laugh. “That’s crazy. Like some fucking medieval shit or whatever.”

“It is,” she agrees, sighing. “But what can I do? Anyway, are you ready for my question part?”

I shrug. “Yeah, sure.”

Her eyes meet mine and holding my gaze, she says, “If neither of us is married by that time, will you marry me, Easton?”

The amount of caring I feel for this girl is so strong that, with no hesitation whatsoever, I answer with what my heart is screaming for me to say: “Yes, I will.”

Present Day…

After I take a small sip of iced tea and set the glass back down on the tile tabletop in the café where I’m having lunch with my friend Madison, I say, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I closed on that big-ass house out in Cave Creek yesterday.”

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