DREAMS #3
“Don’t, Jordan,” she says softly, bringing her shaking fingers to her lips. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” Emotions catch in my throat. “James had the life I wanted. And he deserved it. He was the better of us, Emory. You’ve got to know that.”
She clutches my shirt in her hands, articulating each word. “Jordan. I. Love. You.”
And she loves him, too. Two things can be true at once.
Even at the height of what’s happening, I know I’ve got to catch these thoughts. They’re how I feel—how I’ll probably always feel—but they have nothing to do with Emory and me. Or what we are building together. They have nothing to do with why I bought this land for her.
Check. We both loved James. There’s no point in denying the truth that will always be between us. He was my best friend, and he was her first love. But I want to be her last.
Change. I’m not the same man that I was ten years ago or even ten days ago.
Every day I’m growing. Hopefully into a man my friend would be proud of.
Into a man that may not ever be worthy or deserving of the love of the two girls who are so important to us both, but who will humbly show up, day after day, and be grateful for the gracious gift their love truly is.
“I love you.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and let my fingers linger along the soft skin of her cheek.
Every time we’re this close and I get the chance to touch her…
To hold her. To kiss her. I find myself cataloging every detail I can to memory.
The scar above her eyebrow. The heart-shaped freckle on her temple that I love to kiss.
And the tilt of her lips, every time I do.
“I've got a list of regrets a mile long when it comes to you and Molly, but buying the land, making sure you didn’t lose one more precious piece of your life, that was too easy. Do whatever you want with it. It’s yours.
But no way was I going to let You’ve Got Trey turn your dream into a driving range. ”
I kiss that freckle I love so much, then catch her responding, contented smile gently with my mouth, hardly believing I can be the one to bring any source of happiness to her life. And vowing I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to continue to do so.
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses a soft kiss to my throat before tucking her head beneath my chin. “Thank you. It doesn’t feel like enough, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m not used to this. To having someone do something so… big. For me. For Molly.”
“Don’t thank me,” I whisper, tightening my arms around her. “Just say you’ll let me be here. Let me stay with you both. Let me love you.”
Emory pulls back, cradling my jaw in her hands.
“Of course, I want you to stay. But you have to stop living like you’re paying penance for the past. The projects and odd jobs and breakfast-making…
I don’t want you to do those things because you feel like you’re making up for lost time.
You're here now. I love you, and I want to do house projects together and fight about bedroom colors—”
“Yellow doesn’t belong in a bedroom, Sweetheart.” Though the way she looks in this dress might just be changing my mind.
“We’ll see.” She smiles, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already lost that argument.
“The point is, from now on, I want to make breakfast with you every morning because we’re doing life together, not because you feel like you have to earn something or because you think James would want you to.
I want you. Molly wants you. That’s enough. ”
“I can’t believe we ended up here,” I say, marveling at the woman smiling back at me. “I can’t believe I get to love you.”
Pressing her back into the side of the house, I cage her in and show her how amazed I truly am. How I plan to show her every day, and I don’t plan to waste a single one.
“No more secrets,” she insists, breathless. “Balloons on roadkill. Aiding and abetting minors. Buying land. Building a business. Whatever it is, I want to do it together.”
“Deal.” We turn towards the party and the crowd of restless ten-year-olds, sweating senselessly and filled to the brim with more sugar than medically recommended. “So, would now be a good time to tell you that I have a meeting with a contractor next week?”
“For your house?”
“No. For your cabins. On the east land. Purple Pastures and Alpaca, a family owned and operated micro-resort.”
“You’re insane.” She laughs, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me towards the pasture where some of the alpacas have caught sight of her and are trotting past kids to reach her—just as entranced by Emory as the rest of us.
“But where will you live if not the property you so aggressively stole from Trey?”
“Not sure. Maybe Asscroft has a spare room I could rent out.”
She shrugs. “We’ve got a decent couch here if you’re interested. I’ve heard it’s really comfortable. Comes with matching jammies and movie nights. But it’ll cost ya.”
“Name your price, Red.” I’ll pay.
She kisses me again, smiling against my lips. “Brownies.”