Chapter 40 Dawsen #2
Sitting in the palm of my hand is the very necklace that my mom wore every day. A silver chain with my birth stone. It was never recovered from the accident. Until now.
“Oh my God.” Birdie gasps quietly, bringing her hand to her mouth like she didn’t mean to audibly react.
“Is that…”
“My mom’s necklace. Yeah.” I answer her question before she can finish asking it. There’s a piece of paper still in the envelope. I pull it out and read the writing scrawled across it in black ink.
I found this at the scene of the accident.
I’ve been holding onto it, praying I’d get the opportunity to return it.
I’m sorry that you’ll be paying for the consequences of my actions for the rest of your life.
I hope this brings you some sort of closure or maybe it will make you feel close to your mother again—even if just for a moment.
I know the circumstances are different—but I do know what it’s like to lose your mother.
I’ll never forgive myself for making you familiar with that pain, but I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
I stare at the page for a few beats before I look up. Birdie’s hand is on my thigh, and there’s a few tears trailing down her cheeks. I bring my finger to her face and swipe them away, feeling the immediate need to comfort her.
“Hey hey hey, it’s okay.”
“Life can just be so shit sometimes.” She says, a small whimper in her voice.
“It can be. It can also be so good. And it is. You’ve shown me that.” I admit.
Because even when Birdie didn’t know it, she was the bright spot in so much of my darkness. Always anticipating the next time I’d see her, or the next secret I’d be able to read, or hearing a song on the radio that reminded me of her. She was in it all, carrying me through.
I fiddle with the necklace in my hand, looking it over. It’s in fairly good shape—it could use a nice cleaning, but the ruby birth stone is still in tact.
I look over at Birdie and she’s looking at me, like she’s fully present here with me and it means everything to me.
“I want you to have this. Is that okay with you?” I ask, taking her hand and dropping the necklace into her soft palm.
“Dawsen, I can’t. You should keep it, or what if your dad would want it?”
I know my father. He loves Birdie and he’d want her to have this too.
“I want you to have it, and I know my dad would love seeing this on you.” I take the necklace and unclasp it. She lifts her hair up for me as I bring it around her neck.
She presses her hand against it, like she’s reveling in the the feel of it.
“This is so precious to me. I’m proud of you. For today, and all of that. I can’t imagine everything going through your head right now.”
I scoop her up onto my lap, and start placing kisses down the side of her neck.
“How’s your writing coming along today?” I want to switch the subject. I don’t want the rest of the night to be a bummer, and I love hearing about her writing. The stories she’s making up in her head.
“It’s actually been really good. I scrolled on Pinterest for awhile to gather some inspiration for my characters.
Their style, and also some ideas for locations and things.
The research process has actually been so fun, and it’s a good distraction from the fact that I have absolutely not a clue in hell what I’m actually doing.
Imposter syndrome is at an all time high, and I honestly hate even admitting that. ”
I don’t miss the way her eyes light up and then slowly dim when she begins to doubt herself.
“Don’t do that.”
She just smiles at me, “do what?”
“Don’t doubt yourself. You’re the most creative person I know. You’ve got this. And you’re not an imposter. Like, not even close. Nobody could hold a candle to you and your talent.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder in a mock-brag way. “Wow, you’re like so obsessed with me, aren’t you?”
She’s teasing me with a giggle, but she’s right.
“I am.” I say, pulling her face to mine.
“Fucking obsessed.” I add, and she swings one leg over my lap so that she’s straddling me.
The smell of her perfume and the softness of her skin is enough to drive me mad, but when she’s on my lap like this, it’s when I feel the most weak. Like I’m not going to be able to honor this vow I’ve made to myself.
Marry her, then make love to her for the rest of my life.
I’ve had her ring in my bedside table for a week now, and I even asked for her dad’s blessing a couple days ago.
It’s old school, but it’s romantic, and I know she won’t admit it, but I know she’d rather be married first. She’s told me plenty of times that she’s ready, but if we’ve waited this long, I want to make sure she’s all mine, and that I’m her first and her last.
Birdie rolls her hips against me, and I know she can feel how hard I am.
I pull her down on me, and her lips part just enough for my tongue to sweep inside.
We move like waves, perfectly in sync, spilling over with longing.
It’s like every year we spent yearning for each other is being released every time we’re intertwined like this.
“Thank you” She says into my mouth, breathily.
“For what?”
She pulls her lips to my cheek and kisses me there. “For the man that you are.”