Chapter 77
Seventy-Seven
Interminable minutes later, I’m finally on the gangway to the terminal, stuck behind the same lollygagging passengers.
I scan the area as soon as my feet touch the solid airport floor, spotting him in seconds—my tall lumberjack, standing head and shoulders above these mere mortals.
“Missed you, Sundance,” he murmurs, not letting me go. He looks exceptionally striking with his latest mustache and neatly trimmed beard.
“I missed you so much.”
His body heat, woodsy scent, and firm grip ground me. He’s forever my port in the storm.
“You good baby?”
I nod into his chest. “Especially now that I’m here with you…where I belong. ”
He kisses me again, and in that moment, we’re the only two people on earth.
We part and head to baggage claim, hands linked, as he shares tidbits about Emmy’s antics while I was away. I won’t see her until tomorrow; Butch made it clear he’s keeping me to himself for twenty-four hours. No argument here.
As we pass subsequent gates, I witness people reuniting, a young couple fighting, a toddler whining, a teenage boy scoping out a girl…
a microcosm of life happening with our departures and arrivals.
It perfectly summarizes my state of being—I’ve departed and arrived.
I know who I am…my wants, my needs, my worth.
I know it without any doubt: this man holding my hand offers an enduring love, one full of mutual respect, kindness, exploration, and togetherness.
On the long ride home, I fill Butch in on my visit with my parents.
My mother’s improved health and demeanor, her excitement about the wedding, how she engaged with me…
truly with me…unlike most of our interactions the past decade.
She’s finally trying instead of succumbing.
If my heart hadn’t already lifted from time spent with friends and mending the Three Musketeers, giving me closure and peace of mind, this put it over the top.
Even my father shared enthusiasm over our upcoming nuptials and meeting the Hamiltons. He offered praise for how I’ve handled difficult situations and the professional strides I’ve made. Regardless of my complicated emotions about Fred Hall, his pride in me holds weight.
The entire visit with my parents landed squarely in surreal, but I left more hopeful about salvaging our relationship than ever before, and I tell Butch that too.
He squeezes my hand, pleased. Butch understands the value of family and these revelations lift his heart.
Because this man only wants what’s best for me.
I almost laugh, realizing these are the same words Mick, Remy, and I shared when we said our goodbyes.
But isn’t that the essence of “real” love?
Wanting the people who matter to us to live their optimal lives, be happy and cherished?