Page 89 of New River Gorge(ous)
When Brooke steps back, her blue eyes meet mine, full of mischief. “Why aren’t we already married?”
“Six more months, love. Six more months.”
Epilogue
Beck
Bridge Day is epic. But what isn’t epic about it is that all these people are doing really dangerous things. I can’tunseethe potential for an emergency room doctor’s services. The BASE jumpers, the gliders, the people just walking across the bridge. Ok, the people walking across the bridge are fine; it’s mostly the BASE jumpers that have my doctor senses on high alert.
No. I’m not on call today. I’m here on a date with Brooke, and I’m desperate to steal some longer kisses away from June’s prying eyes, because whenever there’s even the slightest chance of propriety being thrown by the wayside, June appears. She has some sixth sense about it. And honestly, maybe a seventh that is completely out of tune with what’s actually happening.
Being engaged to Brooke means that June now feels it is her right to barge into my house whenever Brooke has been over for ‘too long.’
The latest instance was when she pushed into my house at nine o’clock at night and found me and Brooke watching—yes, actually watching—a movie together.
“I promise I’ll stop doing this once you’re married in the eyes of God, but for now…”
And then she satin betweenus on the couch.
I know her heart is in the right place, and it’s hard to be annoyed with her when she clearly loves her granddaughter so much.
But also, I am annoyed.
Brooke and I walk hand in hand through the crowd, where I try not to notice the BASE jumpers launching off the bridge. It’s the one day a year that the bridge is open to people on foot, and the views are spectacular.
Brooke doesn’t like heights, and though I’ve known this about her, I also know that part of her coping mechanism for anxiety is to do things that scare her. Which is why, as we cross the bridge, we’re actually on our way to a date that she might say a hard no to. I took a calculated risk and booked it anyway.
What’s the point of living in a tourist area if you can’t use touristy activities to woo your fiancée?
“Beck?” Brooke looks up at me from under her thick lashes.
“Yes?”
“Why are you rushing? I thought we were here to see the view from the bridge.”
I scrub a hand down my stubbled jaw. I don’t meet her eyes exactly as I answer, “We are.”
We’ve almost crossed to the other side, and I spy Lynette holding a sign that says, “Whistler, reservation for two.” Lynette recently started working at the bridge catwalk now that rafting season has slowed down.
Brooke sees her too. “Hey, Lynette!” she calls.
Lynette flashes a huge smile. “You ready for this?” she calls back.
“Beck?” Brooke questions. “What are we doing?” Then she takes it all in, and it clicks. “No. You didn’t? We are? No way.”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But I’ve always wanted to try it out.”
“You are securely attached to a harness the entire time,” Lynette adds.
“There’s no reason…” Brooke swallows. “To be scared?”
Lynette shrugs. “Nah, that’s just your self-preservation instincts overriding the safety features. It’s basic psychology. You have a physiological response to something you’re scared of, even though your brainknowsyou’re safe.”
I grin at Brooke, whose narrowed eyes and squared shoulders make her look like she’s about to march into battle, and not across the catwalk of the New River Gorge Bridge while wearing a state-of-the-art harness and clipped into safety cables.
“I don’t want to be like Melanie and film everything, but Beck, if I’m doing this, please tell me you’ll get a video. I will need documentation for posterity’s sake.”
“Whatever you want,” I say, and I mean it.
