Inside the store, I keep my head dipped and move through the aisles, grabbing steaks for dinner, beer, arthritis cream for Nana, cookies for Serena.
A text comes in from Romy. Thanks for letting me hang out at this kickass house, bro. BTW, I need tampons and Aleve. A real man wouldn’t have any qualms about purchasing them. She adds several laughing/crying emojis. FYI, ditch the steaks. Serena made other plans.
Is she cooking? I mentioned the steaks before I drove into the city, but maybe she’s changed her mind, which is weird. She doesn’t like to cook. Usually I make our meals at the cabin, mostly on the grill.
Romy doesn’t reply.
Serena and I were engaged in May after we graduated, then married a year later after my first season in Denver. Contrary to my dream, I didn’t ask her at a football game. I wanted it to be private. I asked her in the meadow as we lay on a blanket with the stars above us. My hands shook as I opened the black box and presented the three-carat diamond to her. My dad helped me pick it out when we were in New York for the draft.
I was nervous as hell. Was the ring too flashy? Was she ready? Was I rushing? I tend to do that, I do, but when I know something, I know. She was my dream since freshman year, and yeah, I wanted a ring on it.
I stayed up late the night before practicing the proposal. I’d already asked Julian and Romy and Nana if I could have her hand, and I knew she loved me, but what if she said no?
She gaped at me when I kneeled at her feet and went for it… Will you, um, you know, be my mine forever? Will you take on this world with me? I want to be your family. I want to wake up every day and see you next to me...
Yes, yes, yes, she told me, jumping up and down.
She picked out our penthouse in Denver and moved in right before summer camp. With her graduate degree done, she spent her time writing her short stories and selling them to various magazines and online publishers. Last year, she picked up teaching dance part time.
I bought Nana a condo on the floor below us. At first, she protested at the gift, but with my promise of great grandkids in the future and with Romy enrolling in Colorado University, she came around. You’re a keeper, she told me. Julian moved into their house in Magnolia, and we see him on the holidays.
Our wedding took place in a chapel in Denver, and we kept it small. Marley was our flower girl, Dad was my best man, and Romy was Serena’s maid of honor. My mom broke off her engagement and showed up with a new man in tow.
Simply put, it was the happiest day of my freaking life.
She took a chance on me, and I’m going to make damn sure she never regrets it.
An hour later, I pull in the driveway of our three-story, eight-thousand-square-foot A-frame house at the base of the mountains. There are two balconies at the back plus a glassed-in porch with a fireplace to enjoy the cold days. The best feature of the property is a fast-running mountain stream behind the house. Most mornings, we sit on the balcony, drink coffee, and talk.
I walk in the door and the place is quiet. Romy appears in the hallway, and I toss her the bag with her things in them. Her hair is cut chin length, a wheat-colored blonde this year. She gives me a fist bump and a blinding smile. “Thanks. Did it freak you out?”
I pop an eyebrow. “I’m a married man. Your sister has similar requests. And nothing bothers Dillon McQueen.”
She rolls her eyes and tells me about her latest boyfriend and asks if he can drop by for the weekend. I tell her to check with Serena.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Kitchen.”
Huh. I don’t smell anything burning, so maybe dinner can be salvaged.
I head that way, eager to see her.
I walk in the kitchen and see her washing a dish at the sink, her copper and honey-colored hair spilling down her back. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a red, flowy blouse. I ease up behind her, stealthy, and wrap my arms around her waist. “Serena.” I smell her scent and exhale, letting the day wash away.
She leans back against me, resting her head on my shoulder. My hand settles over the baby bump on her waist. Our little one is due in four months. Using my face, I push her hair aside and kiss her tattoo. “How’s he doing?”
She sways against me as we move together to unheard music. It’s always like this with us. I can’t get enough of her, her smirks, her kindness, her fierceness, her beauty, the way she loves me. “She’s good. Kicked today when I did yoga.”
“Hmm, an athlete. You’re torturing me by not getting a sonogram.”
She turns around and drapes her arms around my neck. “I thought you liked surprises.”
“Only when I’m in charge.” For her birthday last year, I surprised her with a trip to Paris. On a random weekend this past March, I flew in Bambi and Chantal and they had a girls’ weekend while I hung out with Sawyer and Troy. Sawyer plays for Seattle now and Troy coaches high school football in Boston.
She laughs, champagne-colored eyes sparkling. “Um, surprise.”
“What do you mean? Are we going out to eat? I saw a new Chinese place on Main Street.” I give her a slow kiss, dragging it out, immersing myself in her.
“No, the caterers are coming any minute. We’re having a party.”
I
