Page 32 of Dash to Me
Atlas has always been there… even when I didn’t ask him to be.
ATLAS
My parents can be embarrassing.Did they have to tell Eva all about my crush on her at seven years old? I can’t believe they kept some of that stuff. I guess my parents thought we might eventually get together, and it’d be a good nostalgia moment.
“Sorry about all that.” I stroke the back of her hand, sitting on the center console. “My parents can be overwhelming sometimes.”
“Your parents are great. They are just happy for you. That’s a good thing.”
I smile at Eva, appreciating her positive outlook. “You think? Sometimes I worry they’re pushing too hard. The baby pictures, the stories... that drawing I made of us getting married.”
Eva laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “The one where you drew yourself taller than the house? That was adorable.”
“I was an optimistic kid.” I turn onto the highway, heading back toward our house.
“I liked seeing that side of you,” Eva says, her voice softer now. “Before you were always so... careful around me. Like you were afraid to let me see too much.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck. “Well, now you’ve seen everything.”
Eva laughs, the sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “I thought that was adorable. Seven-year-old you had serious commitment.”
“Seven-year-old me had serious issues,” I mutter, but I’m smiling too.
Everything is working out. Taking over Lockwood Enterprises, moving in with Eva, and I couldn’t be more excited for our future.
The truck barrels down our driveway, and I put it in park. “You know, we don’t have to rush into getting married or anything. We just moved in together, and we can just enjoy each other.”
Eva nods, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes I can’t quite place. “Of course. There’s no need to rush.”
I take her hands in mine as we sit in the driveway, the engine ticking as it cools. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to feel pressured because of my parents.”
She laughs, but it’s not quite the same melodic sound from before. “I know. It’s just... seeing all those mementos made everything feel so real. Like this was always supposed to happen.”
“Second thoughts?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light despite the sudden knot in my stomach.
“No,” she says quickly, squeezing my hands. “The opposite, actually. It feels right. Like all those years weren’t wasted, they were just... preparation.”
Relief washes over me. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I think about all that time we spent apart, dating other people, and it seems crazy now.”
Eva looks toward our house—our house—with its welcoming porch light we’d left on. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you’d asked me out in high school?”
“Only about a thousand times,” I admit. “Especially after prom, when you wore that blue dress.”
“You remember what I wore to prom?” Her eyebrows rise in surprise.
“I remember everything about you, Eva.” The words come out more intensely than I intended, but they’re true.
She leans across the console and kisses me deeper this time. When she pulls away, her eyes are shining. “Let’s go inside. I think we’ve given your parents enough to talk about for one night.”
As we walk hand in hand toward the front door, I can’t help but think that seven-year-old me, for all his ridiculous optimism, somehow got it right.
EVA
My alarm goesoff at six in the morning, and I pop out of bed. It’s our first morning in the house together, and I want to make him breakfast. I tiptoe across the cool hardwood floor, careful not to wake him. The kitchen—our kitchen now—is bathed in early morning light, streaming through the windows. I run my fingers along the countertop, still marveling that this is ours. I pull eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, already imagining his smile when he wakes to the smell of breakfast cooking. That’s the thing about him—even after all this time, he still looks at me with wonder when I do the smallest things. Like making breakfast is somehow extraordinary.
The coffee maker gurgles to life, and I hum softly while whisking eggs in a bowl. Outside, a cardinal lands on the bird feeder we hung yesterday. I take it as a good omen. There’s a creak on the stairs, and I know he’s awake. I wanted to surprise him with breakfast in bed, but maybe this is better—our first morning routine in the home we’ll build a life in.
“Hey,” his voice is still rough with sleep as his arms encircle my waist from behind. “You’re up early.”
