45. Brant
Brant
When all the recipients are done posing for photos, we journey our way back to our tables.
“Congratulations!” Jared pulls me in for a hug, Debra following suit.
Heidi announces that dessert will be served soon, and a collection of people stand from their seats to mingle. I rest my plaque on the table before congratulating Steve, and then I’m accepting other people’s well wishes.
I shed a tiny smile when a cover of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” ripples through the speakers. My head veers left to the closed double doors, the weight of my heart too heavy to suspend any longer.
Needing to shake it off, I braid through a couple bodies to head to the garden. My eyes swing around, landing on the corner of the ballroom on the other side. A blur of yellow steals my attention, and my legs pause their mission.
It’s so bright.
So shiny.
So … damn vibrant in the sea of neutral tones.
The weight of my heart lifts just as my eyes catch the hem of her satin, yellow dress. It glints under the dim lighting, flowing against the elegant ankle straps of her gold heels.
My eyes drag upward, appreciating the snug bodice. Then I land on her chestnut waves. Admiring how they cascade over the thin straps on her shoulders. I meet those berry lips and sage-green eyes, and she lifts the last brick off my heart.
Like a dove flying away with the last remnant of chaos.
We’re on different sides of the room. In opposite corners. Callie swallows through a lump, and I notice her hand lift to her collarbone. Her fingers delicately grab something, but its identity is concealed.
Until she raises the tiny pendant of her necklace. And kisses the sunflower charm.
The same way she did when she left in that Jeep ten years ago.
“So, these are the options I have.”
The jewelry clerk’s voice jolts me into the present. His weathered fingers intrude my line of sight as he lays the thin chains on the glass counter.
My eyes skate over the choices, each one simpler than the next. Even if I did have money, or come from it, a gaudy piece of jewelry isn’t Callie’s style.
That wouldn’t suit her.
Not at all.
She doesn’t need a large piece of jewelry to make her stand out from the crowd. She already does that. This is her.
Simple.
Elegant.
Effortlessly beautiful.
My Callie.
Then I point to the chain that caught my eye first. “That one.”
A breath tumbles from my mouth, my lungs idling. Callie lowers the gold pendant, walking along the perimeter of the dance floor. The second verse of Ed Sheeran’s hit threads through the air, and my legs fall in sync.
I walk along the length of the marble from the opposite direction as her. Our eyes are locked, our bodies reflecting the same motion.
There’re bundles of people sprinkled between us, but our gazes never sever under the subtle hues of light.
Hundreds of miles couldn’t sway our attention over the last ten years. There’s no amount of people between us that can shift it now.
Every step represents something Callie and I conquered a lifetime ago.
We’re crushing every hurdle we had to jump. Every hoop we had to fly through. Just to land under these elegant chandeliers in prettier clothes.
And in the end, this moment is no different from the ones we shared when we were young. The aesthetic is different, but the feeling is the same.
Because as she gravitates toward me now, I feel indestructible.
Superhuman.
Alive.
I slowly inch over the marble, prepared to seal the distance between us.
The silhouette of her dress sways between the people scattered about, and she paints color in this room. Just like she always did. Just like I’ve always thought of her.
Her hair is pinned back in a half-up, half-down style, but a couple loose strands frame her face. Her earlobes are free of gaudy earrings, and there’s no tennis necklace around her throat.
The only accessory she chose to wear is the simple piece of jewelry I gave her when I had nothing.
She looks like Callie.
My Callie.
She’s home.
Callie Rae
We’re a mere inch apart, and the pad of Brant’s index finger scoops up the gold sunflower pendant. His touch sweeps a warm tingle over my skin, his hazel stare stitched to the basic piece.
“You kept it.”
His fingers softly fiddle with the jewelry. He tucks his lips, surely reserving his emotions before my attention tips up to him. “You shouldn’t insult me so much.”
My gaze scans his twinkling stare, and my hand covers his fingers at my collar bone. I rest them flat over the necklace, our throats rolling as our souls merge back together.
“Congratulations,” I whisper. I lift his rough knuckles to my mouth, planting a gentle kiss before releasing him.
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
“I saw you,” I reassure him before wagging my head. “I wouldn’t have missed this, Dove. Not a chance.”
Brant shakes a smile out as he sighs a breath. His hand absently swipes down his chest, relief sewn through every contour of his face. “Really?”
I smile, cradling his stubbled cheek in my palm. When I bring his forehead to mine, I peer up at him through a wide grin. “Really,” I whisper.
His chest bounces just as mine does, and we pull away. “There’s a garden out back,” he sighs, turning to gesture to the rear of the ballroom. “You wan—”
“Yes.”
Brant’s head whips to me, a crooked smirk painted across his face. His palm clasps mine, our fingers lacing in a tender hold.
We navigate to our destination, weaving through the necessary bodies. Our shoes tap along the cobblestone tile of the vacant cocktail room, the music and chatter dulling.
A sudden quiet swallows us when we walk past the open rear doors. We inch along the brick pavers, and Brant looks over to me. “You ever been here before?”
I shake my head, my eyes trained on the low-sitting reflecting pool that illuminates under the sunset. “No. First time.”
We gradually stroll, the warm air and earthy aroma cuddling my skin. My eyes drag across the trimmed hedges that frame the walkway. Finally landing on the pink and yellow shrubs that decorate the border of the low-sitting pool.
“I think the stars shine brighter over there,” I blurt before we idle. “Just somethin’ I was thinking about the other day.”
I turn my body into him as my chin tilts up. His free palm lands on my upper arm as our chests ghost each other. “Why’s that?” he asks, a tiny grin carving from his lips.
“Maybe brighter stars grant bigger wishes.” I speak softly, kneading his hand while my gaze bounces over his handsome face. “Because my biggest one was graced with an answer.” My eyes inflate with tears, and my fingers lift the gold sunflower pendant. “I never forgot,” I whisper. “I remember.”
His hand strips from my upper arm to nestle my cheek, the touch thawing a lingering icy remnant.
“I remember you and me. Us,” I declare. “I could never forget the boy who saved my life. In every possible way.”
His thumb strokes my jawline, his gaze scooting from my eyes to my mouth.
“I spent my entire childhood leaning on my love for you. It was the only source of air I was given to breathe,” I exhaust. His irises glint with an intensity before I shake my head.
“I don’t want to just lean on it anymore, Brant.
I want to live for our love, don’t you? I mean, don’t you think it’s about time we got someth—”
He nods when I grow frantic, his hands framing both sides of my face now. “Yes,” he rasps.
His thumbs stroke my cheekbones as a couple tears slip onto them. My chest pounces through a large grin, and my palms wrap around his wrists. “I’m sorry, I’m just really angry,” I laugh out. “Angry. Sad. Happy. Bitter. Oh, I can’t make up my damn mind.”
“As angry as you were when I was talking to Carly at that party?”
I jerk myself from his embrace, stabbing a finger up at him. “Oh!” I grunt through a snarl. “To think I made it this whole time without thinkin’ of that pretty little piece of work! Until you just brought it up. Ugh!”
I spin my back to him, shaking my arms at my sides. Like I’m rolling off the disgust, but he snatches my hip to twirl me back around.
I yelp through a smile when he locks me to his chest. I have absolutely nowhere to go. Nowhere to budge an inch, and it’s the most remarkable feeling.
Tears pool in the bottom lids of my eyes as I squeeze him tightly. All I want to do is absorb into his embrace—an embrace that always provided me light in my darkest days.
Our smiles reflect each other before he glues his eyes to my wet ones. His grin mildly fades as he lifts a thumb to wipe under my eyes. The rough pad collects my tears just like it did that very last day in Willowhart.
“Your crying stops forever, Dove,” he whispers. “Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”
My face falls as he echoes a rendition of that first goodbye.
In a hold just like this.
Just like this.
“As long as I have something to do with it, happy tears are the only ones allowed. I don’t make the rules,” he claims softly. “Because it is about time, Callie Rae.”
The pads of my fingers caress his stubbled jaw, and our mouths lap the tiny wounds of the last couple days. Our foreheads press together, bodies snuggled close when my digits thread through his short hair.
“Are you thankful for it, Brant?” I sigh.
When I was younger, I always thought the other side would be so different. So much more exciting in so many ways.
What I found out is: It’s really the same.
When I was growing up, moments with Brant were my favorite stories. Puffer coats, fingerless gloves, loblolly pine trees, Italian ices, worn cowboy boots, a beaten station wagon, Christmas Eve, and Italian rainbow cookies.
Instants of beauty that formed a colorful mural over the black canvas we were given.
And now? Out of all the stories I was able to write on this side and recount to Brant, this is my most beloved.
Right here.
In his arms.
Our forever.
It just so happens, this tale couldn’t have been told without the other side.
“My greatest accomplishment, Callie,” he whispers. “Every damn day.”
And with that, I finally answer Brant. “Me too.”