30. Emotionally Waterboarded #3
She stared up at me blankly. “What?”
“I’m moving to New York. Not to, like, live in your apartment or anything.
I mean, unless you want that, but I know you’ve got your own life there, and I’m not trying to impose on that—” I was rambling, so I stopped myself.
“I just…I want to be with you. Or at least near you. I’m not letting another three thousand miles come between us.
I’ll get my own place. We can take things slow.
I don’t care. I’ll shovel snow all winter and even try street meat. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Her brows knit together, confusion fighting with shock. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “You’re moving to New York?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
She shook her head back and forth. “What are you going to do in New York?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ll figure it out. The only thing that matters is that I’m with you. I’m not going to lose you again.”
For a second I thought the shock had actually paralyzed her, but then her face crumpled—first confusion, then disbelief, then something that looked suspiciously like hope creeping in around the edges.
My mind raced, trying to anticipate her next words, prepping for every worst-case scenario.
Maybe she’d tell me no, thank you for the gesture, but her life was in New York.
Maybe she’d laugh and say I was being ridiculous, that this was just a walk down memory lane, nothing more.
Instead, she just stared at me for a long moment, open-mouthed, eyes wide and shining. Then she asked, “Can you get your job back?”
I blinked, caught so off guard I almost dropped the curry comb I’d taken out of her hand. “What?”
She shrugged, trying to look casual but her voice wobbled. “At the ranch.” She gestured around the barn. “Because if not, you will need to be available for a minimum of three Facetime calls a day.”
I frowned, because my neurons were still misfiring. “Facetime calls?”
“Yep. Long distance. Video calls. Screen-sharing.” She grinned, and for a second she was sixteen again, challenging me to a game of horse or a pie-eating contest or who could hold their breath the longest in the lake.
“Because I’m not going back. I’m moving here.
I was going to see if there was room at the seashell cottage, which I guess there would be if you’re in New York. ” She paused, licking her lips,
“You’re moving home?” My mouth went dry. “You want to move in with me?”
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance but her voice was trembling. “Unless you think that’s moving too fast.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up past my hairline. “I’ve been trying to marry you since I was twelve, Sadie. Fast doesn’t scare me. Slow is what kills me.”
She grinned, wide and wild, and then she was back in my arms, kissing me like it was the only way to keep breathing. The horses in the stalls clopped and snorted, unimpressed by our drama, but somewhere above us, a pigeon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like applause.
We broke apart, and she pressed her forehead to mine as we caught our breath.
“What about Buddy?” I managed, once the world was right-side-up again. “Does he need us to be there?”
If that was the case, I had no problem moving in with him, if he’d have me.
“Buddy needs someone to check on him, but he’s never going to let me move back in. He’s too proud. If he does need live-in care, it’ll have to be a professional and at least I’ll be here and I’ll know when and if that time comes.”
I wanted to ask her a million questions—about her plans, about how we’d make this work. But none of it seemed as important as her heartbeat, fast and steady against my ribs.
Her cheeks flushed and her mouth kiss-bruised, she beamed up at me. “I can’t believe you almost moved to New York for me.”
“And I can’t believe you actually moved back and are mine again,” I replied.
She shook her head, smiling, and reached up to brush a lock of hair off my forehead with infinite tenderness. “Are you sure this isn’t too fast?”
“No.” I exhaled. “I think we’re finally done wasting time.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it.
“I love you,” I said, and so did she, both of us speaking at the exact same time, the words crashing together and overlapping so perfectly that all we could do was laugh, and then kiss, and laugh again.
And that was our happy ending, in each other’s arms, in the stable, her safe place, my happy place, and our home.
THE END