Page 54 of Resilient Rhythms
My eyes flicker to his, my chest tightening. “I want it to be.”
The corners of his mouth tick upward. “Me too, Mckenna. I dream about it.” Then, he stands from the step, runs his handover the back of my hair, and grins. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” He locks the wrought-iron gate and exchanges a few words with Drew who’s loitering nearby.
“See you then,” I agree, taking a sip of my latte.
But I don’t go inside after he leaves. Instead, I remain on the steps of the porch and think about Mav’s question.
I wonder what our life together will look like now that we’re truly embracing our marriage. I envision slow Sunday mornings with pancakes and warm maple syrup. I recall the vibrant Christmas tree we decorated last year and consider the additional holiday decor we can add with each subsequent Christmas. I picture traveling with Mav, seeing his place in Costa Rica, and meeting his mom in Indonesia.
Pulling in a breath, I hold it in my chest as a version of my future beckons. For many years, the goal was to graduate law school. Then, pass the bar exam. And now…
Now, the goal is to feel fulfilled. Satisfied. Happy.
“Fancy.” I smirk as Mav holds open the door to The Ivy, a highly-sought-after, make-reservations-weeks-in-advance culinary institution in Boston.
“I haven’t taken you on nearly enough dates,” Mav murmurs as I slip through the door. He nods to a man standing nearby and I clock the additional bodyguard.
Even though we’re not talking about Bran, Mav informed me before we arrived that Drew swept through the restaurant and hired extra security for the evening.
We chat with the hostess, are guided to a private, cozy table, and take our seats.
Then, we pick up our menus and stare at each other, our eyes holding, our lips quirking into smiles.
“What?” he breaths out, breaking the silence.
“Nothing,” I giggle back. But I’m caught up in the energy of this evening. In the lighthearted playfulness that crests over the serious foundation at the center.
He grins. “I miss that sound.”
“I’m happy we’re out,” I say at the same time.
He dips his head. “I am too. I’m happy we’re…back.” He tilts his head as if asking for my confirmation.
I give it quickly. “We’re back, Mav. We’re…well, maybe we’re even in a better place now than we’ve ever been before.”
His hand covers mine and he brushes his fingertips over my knuckles. “Good.”
And we continue to stare at each other like two love-drunk fools on a first date until the server comes by our table and drags us from our staring contest.
“Good evening, folks. I’m Sabrina and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Can I start you off with some drinks?”
“Absolutely,” Mav says, glancing at me.
I close my menu. “I’ll have a virgin margarita.”
Mav’s eyes flare with surprise and a glint of amusement. “I’ll take the same.”
“All right,” Sabrina says, leaving our table.
“So, what’s with the virgin margaritas?” Mav asks.
“I want to support you the same way you’re supporting me, Mav. We don’t need alcohol to have fun.”
He chuckles. “Thank you. And you’re right, I always have fun with you.”
I snort.
“I’m serious,” he says. “You bring out the best in me.” He wrinkles his nose. “And maybe sometimes the worst.”
