Page 78 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

“I believe so.”

“But he just one-and-doned me. I am such a fool. He’s a bastard.” Even saying that felt false. But what other explanation could there be? That he spent one night with me and found me lacking and just walked away?

“I don’t think any of that’s true. Also, Roe just texted me and we might want to go outside,” Callie says.

“Why?” I ask, but then I hear… wait, is that drums? I’m standing before I realize it and walking to the front door of my clinic. The closer I get, the louder the noise becomes. It’s more than just drums.

Callie is right there with me and she laughs when we step outside. “Is that the high school marching band? Oh, he’s good.”

The band is playing “This Love” by Maroon Five. The same song the band was playing during that horrible parade all those years ago. My stomach is tied in knots.

“Who’s good? What are you talking about?” That’s when I see him. Wade is standing there looking like a ridiculous version of the boy I asked to the dance. He’s wearing his old jersey which by the looks of things, he might hulk out of at any moment. Because it doesn’t fit him anywhere. It looks like he’s wearing doll clothes.

He walks towards me carrying something.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You look ridiculous,” I snap.

He smiles down at his shirt, then back up at me. “Kinda the point.”

The high school mascot comes running out from the marching band and does some stupid dance moves behind Wade. It’s a newer costume than the one we had in school. Looks more cartoonish and less fierce. Like a happy wildcat high on catnip and not one ready to eat the football players on the opposing team.

While I’ve been waxing poetic about the mascot costume, Wade has been moving closer to me. He holds up a bag I instantly recognize:beignetsfrom his family’s restaurant.

My heart flops over on its back and asks him to rub its belly. Good grief, I’m easy.

“How did you remember?” I whisper.

“That you loved these? I remember everything about you.” He tucks a stray hair behind my ear.

“What are you doing, Wade?”

He claps his hands and a few members of the band run forward. They’ve got a folding chair they set up on the sidewalk—oh, one for me and Callie, that’s thoughtful. One of them hands him a cordless microphone.

“Sit down, beautiful and enjoy your breakfast,” he says.

Someone else comes forward to hand me and Callie to-go cups of coffee and I realize it’s Wade’s mother. She winks at me, then steps back into the crowd.

“Some of you will remember,” Wade begins, “when this sweet, amazing, beautiful girl asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance back when we were in high school. I was foolish enough to turn her down then, but I’m no fool now. I’ve been given a second chance and I refuse to waste another minute.”

He comes closer to me and another folding chair appears from a band member. The crowd chuckles. “I’d kneel but it would take me too long to get back up.”

I frown and shake my head. “Don’t kneel.”

He reaches for me and swipes my cheeks with his thumbs wiping away yet more tears.

“Je suis tombé amoureux de toi à dix-huit ans. J'étais juste un gamin qui ne comprenait pas grand chose à la vie. Je pensais que je n'étais pas assez bien pour toi, que je ne serais jamais assez malin pour faire assez d'argent pour t'offrir la vie que tu mérites. Alors j'ai brisé ton coeur avant même qu'on ne commence. J'étais stupide. Je t'aime. Je ferai tout ce qu'il faut pour te prouver que je suis ici pour toujours et que ma place est près de toi.”

I process his words, translating them in my head: I fell in love with you when I was eighteen. Back then I was a stupid kid who didn’t understand much about the world. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, that I’d never be smart enough to make enough money to provide the kind of life you deserve. So I broke your heart before we even had a go of things. I was a fool. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m here to stay, and I belong at your side.

Then it dawns on me and I smack his shoulder. “You’re fluent in French now, aren’t you?”

He winks at me.

Which means he understood the silly things I admitted that day in the massage room. Hardly seems like a groundbreaking confession at this point.

“Wait,” I look up into his face. “You love me?”

“Yes. Always have, always will. I’m sorry I wasted so much time. I’m sorry I’m less of a man than I was when I left,” he says, pointing to his prosthetic.

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