Epilogue
Betty
“ R ight this way.” I point to the crooked fence that Olivia and I regularly hop in the middle of the night. The bright sunlight catches a sliver of silver amongst the rusted metal, forcing me to divert my eyes. I pull on my hand, my thumb tracing circles on the back of Laredo’s hand. His laughter the best sound of the morning.
“Where are you taking me?” I glance back at the man of my dreams. He’s exhausted. I should lead him home for a week of cuddling on the couch and endless kisses. That’s what he deserves. After the day he’s had - rather two days. An action packed yesterday has blended into an equally important day two. The success of the evening turning into a second day filled with celebration. The recording, the after-party breakfast, the signing of his new jacket, the farewells, and now this. It’s easy to see what he needs is to rest.
But a part of me doesn’t want this wonderful day to end. And another part of me tells me we need this even more. “Quiet, I’m about to change your world.” Laredo is staying in Seaside. For me. For us. It means the world to me and there is so much I can’t wait to share with him. None more urgent than this.
He pulls down on my hand, forcing me to stop. My hand rises, lifted by him, not stopping until he presses his rock god lips to the back of my hand. “You already have.” The tender kiss sends shivers through me, validating that all is right in my world. He is the right one. This is the right time. We are the right couple.
He adjusts the jean jacket over his shoulder, and I lose myself in his dark eyes. This close I see the fatigue from lack of sleep, his iris’ lined in red, his eyelids struggling to remain open. “We’re almost there.”
I release his hand, turn and race toward the fence. Twenty feet away from the edge of an abandoned pier sits the five-foot-high obstacle. Rotted wood and missing planks sit on the other side of the fence. A warning sign: Keep Out–Danger ignored.
My feet land safely on the other side, and I wave for Laredo to do the same. Without hesitation, he follows. This man always follows me. Wherever I go. Whatever I do. He has my back. He will be there. He is staying. My heart threatens to burst, reveling in the moment. One I could never imagine a year ago.
His feet land with a heavy thud, his chin rising, his gaze locked on me. Despite the hundreds of distractions today. He prioritizes me.
I lead him, hopscotch style, down the pier. With the sun shining brightly, it is a simple task. Olivia and I have memorized the pattern and successfully navigate this place in pitch darkness at two in the morning. A Driftwood closing ritual that helped us to decompress and connect.
We reach my favorite spot on the pier. A long pole extended out of the ocean, rising ten feet above the planks. A matching one on the other edge are the markers for the end of the pier. I press my back to the pole and slide my rear down to the wood. Laredo does the same next to me, our feet dangling off the edge at the ocean below. He doesn’t say a word, letting me set the pace and the mood. It’s a comforting silence. I close my eyes, press the palms of my hands onto the wood behind me and tilt my chin up to capture the rays of the sun. The warm ocean breeze tosses my hair into my face, tickling it.
I speak without opening my eyes. “This is one of my most favorite places in Seaside,” I start. I’ve laughed here, I’ve cried here. Laredo slips his hand to the small of my back. His movement forces our thighs to touch. I catch a whiff of his alluring scent and open my eyes.
“I want to share every part of me with you. I want you to experience the world you’ve entered. What’s mine is yours.” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to my lip. It is soft. It is gentle. It is perfect.
“I’ve got something to show you, too.” He rubs the tip of his nose against mine, an Eskimo kiss, and I swoon a bit more. Laredo continues to surprise me in the best ways. I fell hard for his rock star presence, confident struts, sexy smirks, inappropriate remarks. But beneath it all, he is a tender soul. A hidden from other’s side that will dress like a dork to impress the woman he cares for, the one that will volunteer to collect cans in ninety-degree heat to spend time with me. The type of guy that will organize a monumental once in a lifetime music recording to help save a food pantry that is dear to my heart. It’s the side of him that lets me know I’ve struck gold. The quiet, caring, attentive man who knows not only what I want but what I need.
He places the denim jacket on my lap. The jacket I gave him a few hours ago. The one now covered in ink and signatures.
I lift it by the collar, reading the catalog of incredible artists that performed last evening. It’s a who’s who list of nearly every artist at the festival. While I read the names, Laredo nibbles on my earlobe. “Oliva forwarded me an email from Sano.”
I freeze and order my stupid face not to react. It doesn’t listen. Heat rushes to my cheek. “I love how the mention of his name gets you all hot,” Laredo teases me. I giggle, happy to know he’s not threatened by my decade’s old schoolgirl crush.
“I hope you don’t think ...” He bites my earlobe to stop the words.
“Not for a second.” His bite is followed by a warm kiss on my neck. “The email was an apology from him for missing the recording–he had to fly out for another gig. But he wanted to know if we were going to do this again next year. If so, he said he’d fly back from South America as long as those two girls that snuck backstage to his show would be in the studio.”
I don’t even attempt to stop the blush from bursting on my face. “He mentioned me and Margo?” No way did he remember us. “You’re kidding. He must have women stalking him all the time.”
Laredo presses his laugh into the crook of my neck. “Trust me from experience. You leave quite the impression.” I let his words marinade and ignore what he is doing in my lap. He flips the denim jacket over, lining up the buttons, more names written on the shoulders, the sleeves and torso of the front of the jacket.
“What’s this?” I point to the strips of masking tape covering the left breast area of the jacket. Laredo leans forward, his hand reaching behind him to pull something out of his back pocket. He rocks himself back to a seated position and waves a black sharpie in front of my face.
“I reserved a spot for you.”
“You want me to sign?” Laredo peels off the strips of tape. One at a time. “I’m not a musician. I didn’t play on the track.” I give him reasons I don’t feel deserving of this honor, and he removes the last strip of tape, revealing the only reason that matters. “Zekial ....” my eyes water taking in what he’s done. A bright red outline of a heart drawn on the jacket. The shell is perfectly placed on the jacket where it will rest over his heart when he wears it. The frame is wide enough for the signature of one name. Five letters, to be exact.
“You are my heart, Betty. You are my inspiration. You are the reason I’m no longer the lone wolf bent on destroying the good around me.” Tears stream down my face. I brought him to the pier to reveal another piece of my heart to him. And he’s doing the same.
“With you, I’m learning to see the world the way I should have all along. That the rewards in life are in building things. Working on helping those you love to reach their dreams. When those around you are loved and happy, my world is a hundred times better.” He hands me the pen. “Sign your name. It’s a formality. You already own my heart. Let the rest of the world know.”
I remove the cap of the sharpie and run my forearm across my blurry eyes. Tears drop fall on his jacket, and I sign my name in large broad strokes. I retrace my name a second and a third time, making sure my name is visible from ten concert rows away. Hands off, he’s mine. From this day forth.
Laredo lifts the precious jacket up by the collar, his arms stretched out in front, both of us staring ahead. His heart, my name. I press a kiss to his cheek and he lowers his head onto my shoulder. His arms lower to his lap and I feel what little energy remaining in his body seeping away. I don’t have to look to know he’s closed his eyes and is two seconds away from falling asleep. His last whisper warming my heart, letting me know he is happy. That he is home.
“This is more like it.”
***