17. Hope
“Everyone has a photographic memory;some just don’t have the film.” ~Unknown
I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone, and it’s much stranger than I ever expected.
Okay, I’m not actually in an alternate reality, but I might as well be. After spending the day in Solvang, Shane and I are back in our room at the inn brushing our teeth. Together. In front of one sink. Our reflection in the mirror is proof that I’m not dreaming, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d be here. Me in my leggings and a top and him in shorts and a T-shirt. My bare feet rock back and forth on the cool tile floor as a wave of worry crashes over me. This is too good to be true. Shane is too good to be true. Why me? Out of all the women in the world, why would he ever fall for me?
Shane spits out his toothpaste, then rinses his mouth. His gaze stays on me as I do the same. Once we’re both no longer foaming at the mouth, we exchange an easy smile, and my stomach suddenly lurches. Easy—that’s what worries me about this whole thing.
“Don’t you think it’s strange how fast everything’s happening between us?” I ask him. “It’s disconcerting, to say the least. Nothing ever goes this smoothly for me.”
“Maybe that’s because you haven’t had me around,” he jokes.
“I’m serious, Shaney.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, not everything’s been smooth sailing. My sister’s still on the fence about us.”
I sigh deeply. “Thanks for reminding me. Not that I forgot about Ames, but I’m praying she comes around. We’ve been friends forever; I can’t imagine there’s anything that could change that. But if not, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t choose between you guys. The only option then would be to join a convent or something.”
“A convent?” Shane laughs. The sound rings hollow, though, even with the acoustics of the bathroom. He reaches over and takes my hands in his. “Please don’t become a nun. I stand a slim chance if you have to choose between me and Amelia, but me and God? I might as well submit my application to the monastery now.”
“You’d become a monk if we couldn’t date? Come on now. There are plenty of other fish in the sea!”
“But they’re not you.” He places a kiss on one of my palms. “I can’t imagine kissing any other woman after kissing you. You’re it for me, Hope.”
“It’s only been two days, Shaney. Maybe you should wait at least a couple hundred more before saying something so final like that.”
He leans his head back against the wall, his expression somber. “What will it take for you to believe me? I want to be with you and only you.”
My chest twinges to hear the sincerity in his words. What in the world is wrong with me? I’d been so ready to jump headfirst into relationships with half-hearted guys, but here I am experiencing cold feet with a man who actually wants commitment.
Not just any man. But possibly the best man I know, aside from Jesus.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Shaney. I guess I got used to being disappointed by guys. You know my dad left my mom and me when I was a baby. The two relationships I had in college didn’t work out. Then there were Ned and Fred; you know what happened with them.” I release a shaky breath. “I have no idea what to do when a guy actually wants to be with me.”
“Hey, come here.” Shane draws me close and rubs my back. “I’m sorry you’ve been so hurt and disappointed. Those guys didn’t know what they were missing, especially your dad. He didn’t leave because of you, Hope. From what Amelia told me, he had a lot of problems of his own. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know. But it’s still good to be reminded of it.” I rest my cheek against his chest and soak in the comfort he offers. The strength in his arms, the warmth of his embrace, and his steady heartbeat against my ear all remind me that I’m not alone. The Lord has been so gracious to bring Shane back to me at the perfect time in my life—when I’d all but given up hope of finding love. The timing makes it even more special because I know I can’t take any credit for it. If I’d had my way, things would have likely gotten a lot messier and complicated, kind of like my luggage debacle. But God even redeemed that situation for me, too.
“As for us,” Shane goes on to reassure me, “we’re in this together. You don’t need to do anything but to trust. Trust that God brought us together and that He’ll guide us through whatever comes our way, and also trust that I’ll always have your back because I will. I’m not just saying that because my sister will disown me if I let you down. I’d rather hurt myself than ever hurt you.”
A lump forms in my throat to hear his voice crack. There’s no doubt in my mind that Shane’s telling the truth. As a kid, he always had a soft spot for animals. He wouldn’t even dare squash a spider. He’s not only a cinnamon roll, he’s the ultimate golden retriever hero—loyal, positive, and kind. What Faith had joked about is true—Shane is love. He shows me in so many tangible ways—through his words and actions—that I am worthy to be loved.
He even spent a whole afternoon with me today shopping for Amelia’s birthday gift. We went to practically every single store downtown, including the Book Loft, where Shane so patiently waited over an hour for me while I browsed around. With his help, I was able to find eighteen more items for Amelia, bringing the grand total to just one shy of thirty. Not only that, but I also had an awesome time doing it. Shane has been the best surprise vacation associate. Scratch that. He’s been the best surprise vacation date.
Mysurprise vacation date.
I pull back to gaze into his face. The pure love and adoration I see there is almost more than I can take. I’m two seconds away from bawling—in a good way. “I trust you, Shaney. I trust you with my heart.”
Then I step up on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. He returns the kiss and wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me against his torso. Without warning, he spins us around until we’ve switched places, and my back is to the wall. I’m sandwiched in between concrete and muscles, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. The more our kissing intensifies, the weaker my knees become. This is a side of Shane I haven’t seen before, a passionate side that leaves me swoony and breathless. I’m tempted to toss out all the books I own because nothing can come close to this. No characters or plots could ever compare with real life. All I want is to live out the storyline to my own romance with Shane.
When our kiss ends, I can’t stop smiling. I cup his face with my hands, loving the feel of his stubble against my skin. Taking in his features, I attempt to commit them all to memory, which is nearly impossible for me with my limited ability to create a mental image, but I still try.
“What are you frowning about?” he asks with concern. “Was the kissing too much?”
“No, not at all! I just wish I could still see you in my mind when I close my eyes.”
“You can’t picture me at all?”
“Not clearly. I only see a fuzzy image and it’s 2D. I don’t see much detail, but the essence is you, if that makes sense.”
His brows furrow. “Does that mean there’s a chance you could forget what I look like?”
“No, silly. The more I look at you, the more my brain will commit your face to my long-term memory. I also use my other senses to remember you by. I can hear your voice in my head, and I can kind of recall how you smell and the way your skin feels if I concentrate hard enough.” Inhaling deeply, I commit his distinct masculine scent to memory. “I’m pretty sure I could sniff you out in a line-up if needed.”
He laughs out loud. “That’s a relief. Good thing God gave us more than one sense. So, you can remember me by hearing, touching, and smelling. What about tasting?”
“Hm. I’m not sure yet.” I run my tongue along my lips, savoring the traces of spearmint our kiss left on them. “I think I might need some more help in that area.”
“I would be more than happy to help you,” he replies in a low voice. Scooping me up into his arms, he carries me to the next room where he lays me down on the king-sized bed. “I know my limits though. If I kiss you any more right now, I won’t be able to stop. I’m going to do both of us a favor and say goodnight.”
“No more kissing?”
“Not tonight.”
I pretend to pout as he covers me with the blanket and tucks me in on all sides. When he’s done, I feel like a freshly wrapped burrito. “I can’t move.”
“That’s kind of the point.” He places a kiss on my forehead, then settles down on the floor where he slept the previous night. “Night.”
I squirm out of my cocoon and lean over the side of the bed. “You can sleep on the bed, Shaney. I don’t mind. It’s much more comfortable.”
His eyes fly open, and he gives me a pained look. “That’s the problem. It’s too comfortable. And much too tempting.”
“Then let’s switch places.” I hop off the bed and take my pillow with me. “You slept on the floor last night. It’s only fair that you get the bed today.”
“I don’t mind. Those are the rules we set yesterday.”
“But that was yesterday when we weren’t, you know, boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Exactly, and now that we are, there is no way that I’m going to let my woman sleep on the floor.”
I grin, loving the idea of being Shane’s woman. “But there’s no way that my man’s going to sleep on the floor either,” I insist. “Please, Shaney, you take it. You sleep on the bed.”
“You’re cute when you try to be intimidating. All right, all right, I know you’re not going to let this go until I agree. But let me get ready first.”
Before I can ask what he has in mind, Shane grabs something from his bag and heads to the bathroom. When he emerges a minute later, he looks like his own version of the Michelin Man. He appears to have put on several layers on top and on bottom. With his extra padding on, he lies down on one side of the bed with his own pillow and blanket. Patting the empty side, he gestures for me to reclaim my spot. “I’m ready.”
I lie down next to him and shoot him a quizzical smile. “Did you just put on more clothes?”
“Yep, two more shirts and three more pairs of shorts. It’s the new look of the season, inspired by my favorite girl. I like to call it the maximalist style. It also helps ensure that nothing questionable happens between a man and a woman when they have to share one bed.”
I giggle at the absurdity and genius of it all. “This has got to be the most unique one bed trope ever.”
“One bed trope? What’s that?”
“When a couple in a story end up at a hotel and there’s only one bed. Just like us.”
“Does this happen a lot in the books you read?”
“Yes! So often you start wondering if all the hotel managers in the world got together and?—”
Ding!
The sound of an incoming message cuts me off. Shane reaches for his cell on the side table and swipes the screen. “It’s Amelia.”
I gasp in surprise. “What did she say?”
He hands me the phone and lets me read the text.
I’ll be in Solvang in the morning. We need to talk, you and me.