Chapter 23
MOLLY
Take our clothes off. See what happens… Take our clothes off. See what happens…
I’m mouthing the words to myself as I steer my truck down the bumpy, dirt road.
The evening sun has turned the tree trunks a brilliant orange, and the grass seems to bask and dance in the glow.
The warm breeze coming in my window tousles the hair in my loose ponytail.
It’s like all of nature has joined in this song and dance to let me know everything’s going to be all right, that this is an exciting thing. And it is.
It’s a very confusing exciting, mind you. Scary and nerve-wracking endorphins have jumped in the ring to duke it out with the exciting ones, and though they’re still winning, the other two are for sure making their presence known.
I pull around the last bend of trees to find Wolf’s truck in the car park. He’s home early. This is good; it’s like he promised but…now I have less time to prepare, less time to psych myself up to see what happens.
Even after cutting the engine, I stay in the vehicle a moment.
Gripping the wheel tight, I pull in a deep breath and let it out.
I’m still in my scrubs, including the white top with neon dog bones all over it, and though Wolf has seen me in my work clothes plenty, I was really hoping his first glimpse of me tonight would be…
I don’t know, but not this. I pull at the collar and sniff the material.
It doesn’t smell like anything really, but I could be nose blind to all the dander, and for all I know, I smell like wet dog.
I make awkward work of yanking the top off over my head while still behind the wheel, leaving me in a white tank top that I hope looks at least marginally sexier.
After dropping my work bag and shoes at the front door, I venture further into the open floor of the living room kitchen area.
The glass slider is open, and out on the warm, sunlit porch is Wolf, his expansive bare back turned toward me as he mans the grill.
He’s wearing a pair of cargo shorts that ride low on his waist, and I take advantage of this position to gawk, watching his deltoid muscles flex as he pokes at whatever meat he has cooking and reaches for a beer bottle off the rail next to him.
I’m afforded a shirtless view of his body every night, but this time I’m imagining it on top of me.
My heart beats rapidly, seeming to enjoy the rollercoaster it’s on while my nerves go haywire.
I lick my lips and swallow hard when his Adam’s apple bobs as he chugs his beer.
My fingertips twitch with the urge to run themselves through the dark, damp curls at the base of his neck.
When I start to feel dizzy, I decide to slice through the nerves by deliberately striding out toward the deck. My logic? I can’t stare at him anxiously if I’m talking to him. I announce my return by walking up behind him.
He turns, leans down, and gives me the same kiss he’s been giving me twice a day. The one I look forward to every day and every night. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he adds.
I peer around him to see a couple of elk steaks on the grill.
“Wow. That’s the thickest meat I’ve seen in a long time.
” I pull a loose strand of hair that the breeze blew across my face then realize what I’ve said.
Covering my face with my hands, I sigh. “You know what I meant. Right?” I hazard a peek through my fingers.
He responds by barking out a laugh but says nothing.
It’s a beautiful spring evening, and though I’m excited to finally get closer to Wolf physically, I’d almost give anything to stay locked in this moment, despite the awkwardness I just infused into the situation.
He and I on the deck in a mountainous forest with the evening sun and a mild breeze.
Him looking happy to see me come home so we can begin a relaxing and intimate evening.
Even the nerves have turned down a more calm and delightful road.
I look longingly at the beer in his hand with the condensation beading across the brown bottle. A cool object to press against my still warm cheeks. “Think I’ll join you in one of those.” I nod at the beer and turn for the kitchen.
“Hey, hang on a second,” he calls gently. “I got you something today.”
What? “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, taking a few steps back toward him.
Despite the rocky week between us, this isn’t the first time he’s given me something.
One morning on my nightstand, I found a perfectly shaped pinecone with gold edges that practically glittered in the sun.
Another morning it was a perfectly intact pheasant feather, so beautiful and soft with its gorgeous speckles sprayed across it like a painting.
And now, he sets the bottle down, exchanging it for a small, black velvet box.
He snaps the box lid open without any preamble.
and I feel the air leave my lungs, hitching a ride on the mountain breeze.
I blink twice, trying to be sure of what I’m seeing, and my heartbeat sounds like it’s beating on the outside of my body.
Nestled in the black velvet sits a yellow gold ring with a round yellow topaz set securely in the middle.
Tiny diamonds surround the stone, cut into leaf-shaped settings, making the design look like a flower.
“It’s breathtaking,” I whisper, unable to find my voice. “Wolf, it’s so beautiful.”
“I found it at Nadine’s,” he says, referring to the woman who owns a shop on Main Street in town. “I think you’ve gone long enough without a ring.” He finishes his presentation by handing the box to me.
I’ve seen Nadine’s work at craft fairs but have never gone to her shop. She designs beautiful pieces, and I take the box hesitantly and admire the ring before shaking my head. “Will you put it on me?” I request, trying to pass the box back to him.
He answers with a nod, pulling the ring out and placing the box aside. Taking my hand, he slips the ring on my finger. It’s beautiful and glints in the sun against my skin. “It made me think of your eyes,” he says once the ring is in place.
I look up at him in wonder. “Really?”
Another quiet nod as he reaches for his beer again. I’m still getting used to Wolf not being one to stand on ceremony.
“I still need to get you one,” I murmur, wondering what kind he would like.
“No need,” he reports and holds his left hand out to me.
My heart is still doing somersaults in my chest from the thought he put into the ring on my own finger. And now my mind is stunned, almost numb, at the sight of my name scrawled in a small calligraphic font across his ring finger.
“You…” I’m back to whispering because my breath is gone for the second time since I got home. “You got my name tattooed on your finger?”
“Well yeah,” he answers, like it’s no big deal.
I lean in to look at his ring finger. My name is in a delicate handwritten font, and a small blue flower replaces the o.
It’s exactly like the blue flax in Mima’s garden.
“Why?” So many other words—why when this was only an arrangement, why when we still hardly know each other, and why, when we don’t know if this will last?
—dissolve on my tongue before I can speak them.
“I tried a few rings on, but I don’t like jewelry,” he admits with a head shake, as if he doesn’t know the reason why. “I’ve never liked the feel of metal on my skin. And, you know, why not?” His eyes shift to mine.
“Just… that tattoo is permanent.” That’s all my brain can scavenge. “You can never get rid of it.”
He looks down at his finger a moment, like he’s trying to decide if I’m right to make a big deal out of this. After a barely there shake of his head, he looks up. “You’re my wife.” His eyes seem to darken.
My lips part, like they’re trying to help my nose with the oxygen intake. The combination of his eyes and his words does something to me I don’t have the capacity for—at least not this second. “Yeah.” My breath carries the word out.
“Permanent is kind of the point.”
“But, we don’t know…” My head shakes slowly back and forth as I look for words.
“You don’t think this will last.” It’s more of a statement as he cocks his head and looks closer at me.
This moment is beautiful, but moments don’t last forever. I take a beat and try to expel the dank feeling in my chest on an exhale. “No it’s not that. I guess it just hit me… how real it actually is.”
He shifts back on his feet like he’s trying to take me in better. “Do you want to postpone tonight?”
Something shifts inside me abruptly and I react. “No, but you suggesting it has me thinking you might want to,” I bite out cynically.
“Goddammit.” He sighs into both hands before scrubbing them over his face.
“I’m fucking trying here, Molly,” he says as he drops his hands.
I’m frustrated, but I immediately feel bad because being petty isn’t going to get anywhere. He needs me to be direct. “Not like I have any experience in the sex department, but I’m pretty sure if I’m questioning if you want to have it with me this much, then it’s probably not a good idea.”
“But I do want to,” he argues.
I draw in a steadying breath, trying to choose both my words and my tone properly. “Is it because you actually want to, or because we’re supposed to?”