Page 125 of Our Long Days
Frowning, I pad over and lower into one seat as he lowers into the other. The plans rest on the ground between us.
“Did you…make these?” I trace the smooth grain on the armrest stained a rich amber-honey.
“Might have.” He winks. “I’m not just a lumberjack.”
“Is this what you’ve been doing in your workshop?” My eyes narrow at him. “What about my bookshelf?”
He picks up my hand. “In due time, Trouble.”
We look out into the forest, the trees swaying with the gentle breeze. A hawk circles overhead. Little critters scamper in the undergrowth. The air is fresh and clean. It’s peaceful. I’m jealous of the family who’ll live here.
“Can you see it?” he asks, voice rough.
“See what?”
“Our future.”
My head whips to the side. He’s already watching me.
“Dex,” I whisper, not wanting to voice my racing thoughts.
“I can.” He smiles softly. “I can see you sitting right here, reading your Kindle with goats, ducks, and any other animalsyou want at your feet. We’d eat dinner at a dining table big enough for both our families. A wedding by the lake. I’d carry you to bed and make love to you every night. Maybe one day, little feet will kick us in the ribs at the crack of dawn, so we’ll have to get a large bed.”
He unfolds a piece of paper from the pocket of his shirt and holds it up, our list with freshly inked words at the bottom.
Visit site for new projectShow Florence our home
My lip quivers, heart hammering. “What about your cabin?”
“That’s a house I built to prove my skills. I want a home.”
He grips the chair’s armrest and drags me across the dirt. I can’t help it: I laugh. It’s wet and shrill and bursting at the seams with happiness.
“A home with you. I bought this plot of land three years ago with no idea what to do with it. Then, I met this wild, beautiful girl who demanded my attention without trying. She gave me reason to believe, proved to me that love doesn’t have to be heard.” He swallows, eyes shining as he caresses my cheek. “I know you struggled to find your way at first, and recently, things haven’t gone to plan, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to build you a home where you always feel safe. Somewhere with me.”
I kiss his palm, inhaling the woody scent. My eyes drift to empty land, and I see it. “I love the future you’ve painted for us. Thank you for being patient with me, for guiding me when I got lost.” Cupping the back of his neck, I press our foreheads together. “Thank you for loving me, Dexter Robert Moore.”
“God, I love you Florence Abigail Sadler.” He kisses me as though he’s scared I’ll disappear. Once upon a time, he believed that. I meet each stroke of his tongue, in awe of this man. The paper crinkles between us, and we pull apart.
“Is that the end of our list?” I ask.
“No. We’ve got a lifetime to add to it.” He plucks a familiar, more weathered list from his pocket. “It’s up to you what we do with this one, though.”
The List of Florence.
I unfold it, and a summer spent with this man comes rushing back.
Dex hands me a pen, silently watching as tears blur my vision.
I check off the last four items—with some amendments.
• Watch a movie at a drive-thru theater ?
• Adopt a pet ?
•Buy my own houseBuild a home with Dex — pending
•Find a love like my parentsFind a love like ours
