Washed Up (Bayside Heroes)

I gleefully pay those bills every month, and Greg respects me enough to bite back his argument and just say thank you.

As much as the routine was easy to fall into, what I love most about living with Greg is that he won’t let routine swallow us whole. We still carve out time for our list, for spontaneous date nights, for adventures — like the tattoos we got two years ago, or the road trip we took our first Valentine’s Day together, or the karate lessons we took and failed at miserably together.

Or like right now, driving our whole family to Colorado to climb a fourteener.

Of course, they won’t be climbing. No, that torture is reserved for me and Greg. But Julia and David will watch Benji while we’re gone, and then we’ll spend the next week and a half exploring the area as a family, enjoying actual fall weather and foliage that we never get in Florida.

Sighing, I survey our backpacks again, checking our list and rummaging through to make sure we have everything we need. After dinner, we’ll meet our guide and a few other people climbing with us at the base of the mountain, where we’ll camp. Then, before the sun wakes up tomorrow, we’ll start our climb, all with the intention to be on our way down before the afternoon storms have a chance to wreak havoc on the peak.

Greg is like a kid in a candy store, exhilarated just by the thought of the hike. And while I’m excited, too, I’m also nervous.

Not because I think I can’t do it, or because I think I’m too old to do it.

But because of what I’m fairly certain will happen when we reach the top.

The front door swinging open snaps me from my thoughts, and Julia is already herding Tucker back to the bedroom he’s staying in to get him cleaned up for dinner as Greg scrubs behind Benji’s ear. He ducks into the kitchen long enough to pour him a bowl of water, and Benji slurps it up happily, dripping half of the water on the floor as his tail wags and wags.

“What did I tell you?” Greg says, slipping his arm around me as we watch our dumb dog. “Just like a kid.”

I snort, but can’t fight back my smile as Greg plants a row of sloppy kisses on my neck.

“Ugh,” David groans.

“Alright, alright,” I say, winking at Greg as I playfully shove him away. “Let me make us dinner before you ruin my son’s appetite.”

We all gather around the table for an Italian feast, pasta and chicken and bread with olive oil and salads bigger than any of us need prepared by me and Julia. Once we’re stuffed, we get bundled up in our warmest clothes and load our packs into the rental car, hugging Julia, David, and Tucker goodbye.

It’s a quick drive to the base of the mountain we’re climbing, and our guide meets us with an enthusiastic smile and help setting up our tent. We hang by the fire for a while before he encourages us to get some sleep for our big day, and then we crawl into our sleeping bag and snuggle up close.

“Well, baby,” Greg says, planting a soft kiss at the back of my neck as he wraps me up in his arms tight. “You ready?”

I smile, wiggling even closer as I think about the past five years, about how much my life has changed, about how happy I am after an entire lifetime of wondering if true happiness existed at all.

Greg tasked me with double-checking everything we needed for our hike, and I took that task very seriously. I made sure we had emergency equipment and food and water and hand warmers and spikes for our shoes in case we hit ice and everything else on that list.

Greg knows I made that list and checked it twice.

What he doesn’t know is that, in the process, I found that little black velvet box tucked into the very bottom of his pack.

I didn’t have to open it to know what was inside, but it’s that little guy that’s had my stomach in knots the past twenty-four hours.

But right now? All those knots are gone, the butterflies sleeping, and I twist in Greg’s arms until I’m facing him, running my fingertips along the line of his stubbled jaw.

He may not know what I discovered, but there’s one thing we both know without hesitation.

When he gets down on one knee, my answer will be a loud, passionate, resounding yes.

“Ready,” I tell him.

And I kiss my boyfriend goodnight for the last time.

Because this time tomorrow night, he’ll be my fiancé.