35. Kate
“I am in love with you.”
Malcolm’s words ring in my ears like the bridge at a concert, being chanted by thousands of people. I feel them rumble all the way down to my toes. But like being at the concert, I still can’t believe I’m here, experiencing it. I can’t believe this man standing in front of me feels the way he does…about me.
I pester him—I mean, how can I not? But I need to know for sure. Malcolm isn’t a liar. I’m just not a believer. Not fully, anyway. I need proof.
A sign.
Something from the universe telling me that all of this is real, and I’m not dreaming.
Like Joe Jonas barging into my high school and offering me VIP tickets to his concert in Europe kind of dream.
And then, his lips are on mine.
Now, let it be said, the concussion kiss was every bit as spectacular as one might think. It was uncontrolled and passionate. But this kiss… This one is different.
It’s all Malcolm. It’s every bit of him that I didn’t know I needed.
A rugged intensity at first, then a slow tenderness. The moment he’s been truly waiting for is here. I can feel his body snap into the moment, like chains being broken and he can run free. But instead of becoming a wild man on the loose, he takes his time, soaking in each moment like it could be his last. I think about someone seeing a sunset for the first time, the colors blending together in a hypnotizing fashion. You can’t look away. You’re itching to run to it, reach up and touch it, but you also know it could be gone in an instant, so you slow down to soak it all in—the universe orchestrating something so breathtaking right before your eyes. A symphony of light and color that can be so fleeting you want to savor every second of it. You commit your first sunset to memory. Isn’t that what you want to do with all your firsts?
That is how Malcolm is kissing me. Right here in the middle of our football field, he savors every second of this first.
I melt into him too, realizing that every part of me wants him just as badly. His breath trembles as his hands move into my hair. I used to think his joking obsession with my hair was just that, a joke. But based on the continuous gliding and stroking of his fingers through my wild curls, I realize it’s not. He truly loves them, and something about it makes me ache.
Him loving something about me that I don’t. Something that took me so long to accept, even if it is something as small as the texture of my hair.
Is this really happening?
Kissing him and questioning actually kissing him is enough to rip me in two, but I can’t seem to stop my lips from moving with his. As he pulls me closer into his chest, I almost snap like a rubber band. The agony of wanting this but also not really knowing what I wanted releases inside me. Just as I’m about to accept that this really is happening, and I have no reason to question something that feels so right…my face is blasted with water.
Then my legs.
Then my back.
Before I know it, I am soaked from head to toe, curls falling flat against my cheeks. Malcolm turns around, attempting to block me from the field sprinklers, but it’s too late. We’re surrounded.
I press my head against his back and want to cry. “This can’t be happening,” I whine to the cosmos.
Malcolm laughs, pulling me to the sidelines. “It’s just a little water.”
“It’s not!” I stomp my foot and yell at the sky. “It’s a sign from the universe!”
He lets out a deep sigh and runs his hands through his wet hair. “I don’t think—”
“It is!” I snap, pointing a finger at him. “The universe is stopping us before we go too far, before we get mixed up in all of this and ruin everything.”
“Kate…” his voice is a defeated whisper, like my words are breaking his heart one by one. “Please don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything!” I lie because I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m sabotaging the moment. The possibility of something with Malcolm is too precious and wonderful, and my brain thinks the best way to react is to torture any chance it has at happiness. “I’m just stating facts. Of course we would get blasted with ice-cold water in the middle of everything. The universe is clearly sending us a sign,” my voice wavers as I try to sound convincing—for his sake or my own, I’m not sure.
“Do you really think the universe is worried about us kissing?” he muses.
“I think the universe has a way of directing everything, and I think if this was meant to work out, it wouldn’t be so difficult.” Water droplets drip down my face as I glance at him. His face is blank as he watches me. “I just mean…ugh. Loving someone shouldn’t be so difficult, right? Can’t we just kiss and have a happily ever after without getting hypothermia?” I shiver. The cool air and the cold water aren’t a good mix.
“You’re right,” he says as he takes off his suit jacket and wraps me in it. “Loving someone should be easy. But what about after that?”
“What do you mean?” I nuzzle deep into his jacket, inhaling the smell of his oaky cologne and fresh body wash that comes with it.
“What about life after you start loving someone? Falling in love might be easy at first, but staying in love is totally different. Life isn’t easy, Kate, and no amount of talking with the universe can make it that way.” He sighs and clenches his jaw as the shimmering blue of his eyes focuses on me. I feel vulnerable and safe all at the same time. “Falling for you was the easiest thing I’ve done… But hell, Kate, staying in love with you hasn’t been.”
I scoff at him, slightly offended, but I get it. I’m a lot for some people.
“But I have. I’ve loved you, regardless of the circumstances. And it’s not because the universe or some higher power has made it so. It’s because I choose to. Your family loves you because you’re family.” Ouch, I think. “Your future children will love you because you’re their mom. But me? I don’t have to love you. Some days, I think I’m crazy because of how much I love you, but I do. And I choose to keep loving you every day because you are everything to me, and that will never change.”
He pauses for a moment, and I try to speak, but he keeps going. “Yeah, loving is easy at first, but as we grow old, life changes, and my love will change too. But I’m not going to doubt it. I’m never going to doubt how amazing you are. Or how damn lucky I am. I’m just going to keep loving you until you tell me to stop.”
“Malcolm, I…” My lips quiver as tears fill my eyes. I swallow hard, the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over if I speak any more.
“Look…” He rubs his jaw and shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “We can—”
“Hey!”
We’re interrupted by Charlie as he barrels down the steps, flailing his arms at us like he’s running from a bear. “Coach! Coach!”
Malcolm heaves a deep sigh and rakes his hands through his wet hair. “Henders, what seems to be the problem?”
“It’s Bill!” Freaking Bill. “They think he broke his hip again!” Charlie pants. “We told him not to do it, Coach, but he didn’t listen. He just did them.”
“What did he do?” I ask, disgruntled and a tad snappy as I wipe under my eyes.
“The splits.” Charlie winces.
Malcolm whips his gaze to me, and his eyes are a mix of irritation and obligation, morals and desire battling it out right there in his retinas.
“Go.” I nod toward the school. Of course, there are a plethora of people in there that can handle the situation, but anytime someone gets injured, Malcolm seems to be the one they run to. I guess I can’t let our little field excursion get in the way of our responsibilities, no matter how much I want it to. We should’ve gone under the bleachers.
“I’ll be right there,” Malcolm sighs, and Charlie speeds off back toward the gym. Turning back to me, he pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. He lingers against me for a moment, resting his chin atop my head and holding me against him like we were made to fit together. “This will work if you give us a chance,” he whispers.
Without missing a beat, he kisses me again, quickly this time, and races up the steps. I feel physical pain as he disappears into the gym. Loneliness tries to settle all around me again, like the black cloud it is. I replay every second of what just happened. The memory of his lips on mine tingles my mouth like it”s a new sense. The desire to hone in on that sense and feel it over and over is strong. But something even stronger whispers to me in the back of my mind.
You can’t lose him, Kate.
It’s been a solid eight hours since I’ve seen Malcolm. He rushed Bill to the hospital and stayed with him until early this morning when Margaret recuperated enough to get there. Apparently, jostling her aching joints all over the dance floor wasn’t the best idea for someone with rheumatoid arthritis. By the time Malcolm got home, it was 3 a.m. and I was passed out.
Probably for the best anyway.
Because I am freaking out.
It’s now 8 a.m., and instead of rushing over to discuss last night’s field trip, I am headed over to Lola’s to check in on her first. I just about lose the smoothie I had for breakfast when I see her climbing into her Jeep and starting the vehicle.
“What are you doing?” I screech to a halt at the end of her driveway and race to her driver’s side window. “The doctor said no driving! It will stress out your heart!” I yell at her through her closed window.
She narrows her eyes at me and rolls her window down an inch. “I don’t need a babysitter to go to the store, Katherine.”
“Yes, you do.” I attempt to open the car door at the same time she locks it. Glaring at her, I cross in front of the vehicle, keeping my hands firmly planted on the hood. For some reason, I think this is the only way to prevent her from backing away. It works, and I reach the passenger side, jimmying the handle for her to unlock it and let me in. “I’m going with you.”
She unlocks the door reluctantly. “I don’t need your help getting potatoes.”
“Deal with it.” I buckle up, and she peels out of the driveway aggressively.
We drive in silence, and she huffs dramatically in my direction a few times. “Don’t you have other people you can harass?” she asks.
I scoff. “I didn’t think caring about your well-being was considered harassment.”
She rolls her eyes and continues driving. Barely a moment passes before she bombards me with questions. “So, what is wrong with you? Did you hit your head? Did I not give you enough water as a child?” Her accent is thick as she ponders over the thought of neglect.
“Lola,” I sigh and put a death grip on the door handle as she changes lanes without a blinker. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, something must be wrong with you for you to be acting crazy.” She waves me off, changing lanes again. It will be a miracle if we make it to the store.
“Crazy?”
“Yes, crazy. You kissed Malcolm, yet you’re here harassing me.”
“I’m not hara—wait. How did you know?” I glance at her and back at the road. She rolls her eyes at me as if what happened last night is common knowledge across all of society.
“I have eyes everywhere.” She changes lanes again, and I really start to feel that smoothie move up into my esophagus. “And those eyes think you’re crazy. You have a wonderful man waiting on bended knee for you, and you’re leaving him high and dry like last week’s pancit.”
“Bended knee is a tad dramatic, Lola. And I’m not leaving him high and dry,” I emphasize with air quotes. “He had a long night, and I was going to go see him later.”
“Ah…” She waves me off again and misses our exit to the store entirely. Instead, she races ahead, cutting a highlighter-yellow Corvette off in the process. “You’re being stupid.”
“Ouch.” I swat at her arm. “And you missed the exit.”
She ignores my directions and continues driving. “You’re stalling.” She lets out a breath, looking every bit as tired as she’s saying, the deep lines around her mouth turning downward.
“I am not,” I lie. I’m definitely stalling. “I can’t lose him, Lola,” I whisper. The thought of losing him clings to the back of my throat and squeezes.
“And who says you’re going to?” She raises a brow at me. “He’s not your mom, Katherine. He’s not that one guy. Malcolm isn’t going to leave you for some work retreat on the beach or some job across the country.”
“Can we not talk about this?” I whisper, looking out the window at the passing cars. Where is she going?
“Fine.” It’s as if the word is an NOS button, because she speeds up and whips across four lanes of highway road like it’s a video game. My stomach plummets into the seat as I brace for impact from every direction. Then she takes a familiar exit.
“Lola, why are—”
“If you aren’t going to talk to me about this,” she says, silencing me, “then you will talk to him.”
I grumble at her as she pulls down a gravel driveway and parks in front of the small brick house I know all too well.
Malcolm is outside…chopping wood.
“Lola, I cannot talk to him like this.” I wave in his general direction at the same time he notices our car. With the ax overhead, he chops another log and tosses it to the side before propping himself against the ax to watch the crazy women thirty feet from him. “There’s no way!” I note the glistening sweat pouring off him and gulp dryly at the sight. Yeah, no. I can’t have a levelheaded conversation with him looking like a sexy lumberjack.
“Go talk to him, or I will give myself another heart attack.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Try me.” She glowers at me, and for a moment I think it might actually be possible for someone to trigger a heart attack. If anyone could do it, it would be her.
I grumble again, loudly and dramatically, as I slide out of the Jeep. Gravel crunches under my feet as I land with a thud. Ungraceful, that’s my style. I don’t know how to walk forward, so I just stand there, blocking the sun with my hand. Malcolm’s silhouette comes into focus, muscles at peak performance after the ax wielding.
I can’t do this.
I reach for the door handle to the Jeep, but Lola has already locked the doors. She smiles innocently at me and then proceeds to back out of the driveway. The woman is leaving me here.
“You gonna chase after her?” Malcolm calls to me as I stay firmly planted in place.
Chasing after her might be an option.
Alright, don’t be ridiculous. Just go talk to him, the voice from last night echoes in my head. I replay the sound again, noting a familiar depth and drawl to it.
My grandpa’s voice. It comes from deep in the back of my mind, nudging my feet forward.
“Gosh, where did you come from?” I quietly ask the voice, which is technically asking myself, since it’s my brain talking to me.
Malcolm watches me warily, looking from my face down to my slow, shuffling feet. Let him love you, Grandpa whispers to me.
“You good?” Malcolm asks. He glistens in the afternoon sun as beads of sweat cling to his forehead and neck.
“I, uh…don’t know.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Feels like it,” I joke half-heartedly. I can’t really tell him my grandpa has decided to start talking to me from the great beyond…and that”s the only advice I’ve truly needed this entire time. That’s not crazy at all.
“Well, then…” He pauses, dropping the ax to the ground and grabbing the hand towel tucked in his pocket. Please don’t dab yourself right now. “How are you?” he asks with a dab to his chest, then neck, and then a wipe to his face.
“Well, other than being forced here against my will, I’m fine.” My mouth feels dry, as if him wiping himself has the ability to strip my tongue of any and all moisture.
“I see…” He pauses. “Well, if you don’t want to talk…” His voice is thick and hesitant as he saunters off to grab a feed bucket and heads toward the back of his house.
“Ugh, I do! I just don’t know what to say.” I follow him as he heads toward his chicken coop that is now overflowing with almost fifty chickens. “Whoa. Where did these guys come from?” Last I checked, he only had thirty or so. I lean over the edge of the gate surrounding the coop and start counting. Malcolm hands me the bucket, and out of habit, I toss feed in for the little chicklets.
“Nugget!” Malcolm whistles, and our pride and joy rounds the corner of the coop. The oldest and most senile chicken of the group. The chicken he denies trying to kidnap from me five years ago. I swear I see the other chickens part like the Red Sea to let her through. Malcolm gives her a piece of melon and scratches the top of her head.
“Spoiled,” I giggle, rolling my eyes and emptying the bucket for the others.
A beat of silence passes, and I realize Malcolm isn’t going to force this conversation. I have to take the leap, or we will be on this carousel of silent feelings for the rest of our lives.
“So…” I drag out the word, “how’s it going?” I lean against the gate as gracefully as I can, but it”s flimsy, so I lose my balance and almost fall into the coop.
Malcolm grabs me by the elbow to steady me. “Careful there, Stanley.”
His hand lingers on my elbow, soft and gentle. I glance down and see his thumb twitch against my skin before moving down my arm and resting at my wrist. A shiver moves up my arm and across my sternum in response.
I suck in a breath. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Encircling his hand around my wrist, he doesn’t look at me. Eyes pinned on our hands, he lets out a shaky sigh. “Me either.”
The truth sizzles inside me, waiting to be unleashed, but I feel distracted. I squeeze my eyes shut and block everything out—the feel of his fingers grazing my palm right now, the taste of his lips as they pressed into mine, the sound of his rumbly morning voice—all of it, I block.
“Are you processing?” Malcolm asks, because clearly he can read my mind and probably knows everything I was just thinking.
“Yes,” I mumble. “I just…ugh, I just can’t lose you, Malcolm. I physically can’t.” My words are weak and vulnerable, and I hate it. The goal of being a strong, independent woman deciding her own future feels so far away. I didn’t want to be that person who clings to another person so much. All that’s ever done is get me heartbroken.
“You won’t.” Malcolm’s hands are on my shoulders now, gripping me as he rubs his thumbs back and forth.
“How can you—”
“Kate,” he stops me. His face is serious, and his eyes are focused, and every single doubt lingering inside of my heart fades away. I know this man. I know who he is right to his very core. The man who was so afraid to make new friends or have a relationship because he was afraid of losing them like he did Brennan. The man who has never once gone back on a favor or a promise. The man who, no matter how miserable it makes him, will go prom dress shopping because it matters to someone else.
Why am I doubting his love for me when he’s never given me a reason to?
“The only way you are going to lose me is if I get lost in the wilderness or when I die at ninety-six.”
“That’s specific.” I smile.
“Hush.” He smiles back. “I have been here, and I will always be here. And I will show you every day that I mean it.” He brings my hands up to his mouth, kissing each one tenderly. “And I know you will do the same.”
“It’s not going to be easy, loving me forever.”
“So? Easy is boring.” He smirks, pulling my hands behind his head and resting them around his neck. A beat of silence passes, and he says, “Please don’t make me beg.”
“Well, now that you mention it…” I muse, giving him a wink.
He pinches my side before sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me against him. “Please, Kate. Let me love you the way you want—the way you deserve.” It’s not begging, but the pleading in his eyes grips every piece of my heart that’s left. The pieces I gave up on. The pieces left by others. The pieces longing to be put back together.
“Okay,” I whisper, “only if I can do the same for you.”
Dazzling blue and silver beam at me as his eyes dilate slightly. “Is that a yes?” The smile on his face grows into a wide, childlike grin as I nod.
“That’s a yes.”
He kisses me without hesitation. Without fear. And without any sign of ever wanting to stop. I feel his smile as his lips are on mine, grinning wide and bright against my own. Between kisses, he says, “I will love you forever.”
And for the first time in a long time…I believe it.