Sitting up slowly, I know she can’t see me, but I gaze into her eyes pleading. “Tell me what to do. How do I stop feeling this way?”
A smile softens her features, and she pats my shoulder. “You have to figure it out for yourself.”
“But what if I make the wrong decision?”
Leaning forward, she nods her head. “Trust yourself. You won’t.”
All night I sit up in bed with my iPad pro and stylus, sketching out variations of an anchor garlanded with peaches, sketching out images of hands holding, hearts entwining.
Sawyer’s suggestion touched something deep inside of me. It opened the doors I’ve been holding shut on all of our most sacred memories. He wants me to incorporate our story into the symbol of his business he’ll present to the world. Only it’s not just his business, it’s his family’s land, his heritage, his livelihood.
It’s like saying to the world I’m a part of this. It’s coming full-circle… Except no one will know the significance but us.
My heart seems to open as I move the stylus over the screen. As I draw, I see everything we’ve been through since the day his father died. Currents of emotion flood my veins, lifting me up and taking me down. I see us as teenagers, me so awkward, frizzy hair, him always calm and mature, perfectly gorgeous and perfectly controlled. I remember sneaking into his bedroom window those nights in May, and him wrapping his arms around me.
Closing my eyes, I remember the flood of comfort he’d give me. I also remember coming alive with desire.
I remember being so in love with him it ached in my bones. I remember longing for him with my first mature feelings of love, wanting to give him everything, wanting him to be the one to hold my hand through those experiences, show me the way.
My soul remembers the first time we made love. Ghost memories of my skin awakening, blooming like a rose when he touched me for the first time. I remember the zip of electricity in my most private parts wh
en his body approached mine… I feel the toe-curling rush of pleasure when his mouth covered me, his tongue caressing me, the scruff of his beard against my skin when he tasted me. I hear his groans when he filled me, thrusting so deep, so big it seemed impossible.
Tears fill my eyes when I recall the hard parts—the separation of him being deployed, lying in my bed at night, dreaming of him coming home and taking me in his arms, loving me and announcing to the world I’m his.
I remember the most recent parts, covering him in mud with the three-wheeler, swimming in the lake, taking pictures in the orchard, drinking tequila by the lake and dancing in the moonlight. Making love and sleeping in the bed of his truck.
And of course, the dark part, when he was so broken, when he wouldn’t let me help him. When he sent me away…
Creating this campaign feels like attempting to illustrate the blossoming and maturing of a great love that unfolded with the passage of life. It was so private. It was sacred, our secret. Now he wants to make my dreams come true by sharing it with the world, and I’m the one hesitating… wondering if this is the right time, if this is a good idea. If I’m strong enough to let him in again.
My alarm wakes me up in the middle of my bed, with my iPad on my face. I drag my ass to the shower and get cleaned up, get dressed, and head to work. The key Jeff gave me sticks in the lock, and I have to wiggle it to get the door open. Mental note: Call Jeff about getting a locksmith out here to fix this thing.
I finished unpacking the morning Sawyer showed up to help me. All that’s left is hanging the final posters and breaking down the boxes. Otherwise, I’m ready to get to work.
My phone vibrates with a text from Deacon. Sending you a referral. New fitness club in Plano. A forwarded contact appears on the screen.
I reply quickly. You’re the best, you know that?
Just sending names. You barely need me.
I needed the kick in the pants you gave me last summer.
Have you gotten everything on your list?
I know he’s referencing Sawyer. Not ready to go there.
What’s it going to take?
Not sure yet.
My heart is ready, but I don’t know what it’s going to take for my intellect to let go of the past.
What I have learned in six months is I’ve got time. I know who I am now. I’m confident I can take care of myself, and I’ll know when I’m ready.
30
Sawyer