Page 3 of The Flyboy's Girl
“That’s true. If he’s as nervous as I was at our first dance, I’ll get to save my gun cleaning routine for a few more years.
Mark and I met our sophomore year in high school. He was the new boy that had all the cheerleaders vying for his attention. I was the shy studious one admiring him from afar. With all the girls swooning over him, I knew there was no way I’d ever have a chance. I always enjoyed going to the dances to hang out with my small group of friends, all of us wallflowers. Until the night I watched Mark cross the gym and head straight for our group. Stopping in front of me, he introduced himself, like I didn’t already know who he was, believe me I did, and asked me to dance. After a moment of stunned silence, I accepted, and let him lead me out to the dance floor. We’ve been together ever since.
Laughing, I step up on my toes and kiss him. “I still remember the look on your face when my dad pulled that on you.”
A slow sexy grin makes its way across his face as he takes my head in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing my cheeks. “He was testing me. I was more afraid of him telling me you couldn’t go out with me, than I actually was of your Dad. Little did he know it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a gun to keep me away from you.”
With our twentieth wedding anniversary just days away, this man who stole my heart at sixteen, is still surprising me. Just as they did when we were dating, his sweet words cause my heart to soar. “My parents knew that day it was over for me. Mom said she could tell by the way we looked at each other, we were meant to be together.”
“Hard to believe it’s been almost twenty years,” he says sweetly. “You’re still as beautiful today as you were the day we met.”
“And you’re still the same sweet talker that stole my heart,” I say with a smile.
“Only speaking the truth babe.” Nodding towards the kitchen he asks, “What can I help you do?”
“Set the table and then call the girls down for dinner, everything should be ready by then.”
* * *
Settingthe last bowl on the table as the girls enter the dining room, I notice the sketchbook in Zoey’s hand. Taking our seats, we join hands as Mark says grace blessing the meal before we begin filling our plates.
“How was school today girls?”
“Good,” they answer in unison as they begin eating.
Knowing that teenagers are anything but forthcoming, and that tonight’s dinner conversation needs a little prompting, Mark initiates a round a of high-low. A little game we’ve played over the years to get the girls to participate in dinner conversation. “Who wants to start us off on high-low?”
“I got asked to the school dance today,” Alana says a little nervously.
“That’s great,” Mark says trying to calm her nerves. “Who are you going with?”
“Justin Harris.”
“I’m going to design Alana’s dress,” Zoey says trying to take some of the attention off her little sister. “Mom’s already told us that you two have to approve of it before I begin making it.”
“Zoey drew up a few choices for you to look at,” Alana says, excitement coming back into her voice.
As the tension begins to wane, the conversation continues to flow. Mark and I add in our highs and lows as well, and when the girls tell us what they considered their lows of the day, we talk about how to turn them around and learn from them.
* * *
After dinner,the girls begin to clear the table. Before they make their last trip to the kitchen, I remind them. “Don’t forget girls, your dad and I are going out to dinner tomorrow night for our anniversary.”
