Page 117 of His Last Shot
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat accompanying the tremor in my hands; I’ve never been this nervous. I know she said she would come, but what if her anxiety got the best of her again? What if she went home, thought about it, and got scared?
However, my heart tells me what I want.
Rachel.
Forever.
As my wife, the mother of my children, and the woman I plan to grow old with. Nothing sounds better.
With a thud, I land on the ground from the truck bed, surveying everything one last time to make sure it’s all in order. Our usual blow-up mattress sits in the truck, covered in blankets. The sight fills my heart with anticipation as the prospect of lying next to her here again after five years floods my brain. Next, I check the lights I have strung from the trees to the top of my truck. Everything is up and ready.
I mean, I am quadruple-checking at this point.
Next is the card table. It’s covered in a white tablecloth, and resting on top are two candles flickering in the night. The final touch is a wine glass for her and a Starbucks coffee for me. A single red rose lies in the center of it all.
I step back and admire the work I pulled together quickly.
It’s simple.
After all the complications that our relationship went through … her pushing me away, us coming together in spectacular fashion, then being torn apart in the worst way.
We are due some simplicity.
A pair of headlights approaching from the distance brings me back to my reality. I watch as the car crawls forward and strain to make out the make and model. But then I realize it’s been five years. She may drive something different.
All of my insides are quivering and churning as I wait. Rachel drove a Honda Civic before. Now that this vehicle gets closer, I can make out that it’s a black SUV of some sort.
The SUV parks next to my truck, and the door opens.
I choke on nothing but the surrounding air.
She’s breathtaking.
Oxygen whooshes out of my lungs silently as I let the moment settle.
Our eyes lock.
The universe shrinks to only this moment, frozen in place.
Her long hair falls over her shoulders in shimmering waves. Her long legs are on full display as a yellow sundress hits mid-thigh, catching the breeze. We stand …
Breathing.
Wanting.
Loving.
She inhales sharply, turning her gaze to the ground, trying to gain composure, her chest heaving under the fabric of her dress.
But the urge to caress her, hold her, and god help me, kiss her, consumes me.
As she always has.
“Love.” A tremor runs through me as I whisper my nickname for her, my voice shaking, while approaching with caution.
Suddenly, her head snaps up, and she bursts forward, running to me. With a joyous laugh, she launches herself into my arms and wraps those long legs around my waist, just like they do in those dumb dating shows she loves so much.
Not so dumb now, huh?
