“Well,” he chuckles, glancing back at me as he lifts a branch for me to step under, “what if we eloped instead?”
“You want to elope?” I ask. It seems surprising, I thought he would want a big party, especially because he is the chief of police.
“I think it could be fun,” Kenton says as we leave the woods and stop at the street, pausing long enough for a car to pass.
“Hmm, would I still get to wear a pretty white dress?” I ask, unwilling to accept any answer other than yes.
“You can wear whatever you want,” he chuckles, “it is your wedding too, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,”
I will have to talk to Abbie about this as the wedding day grows closer. I don’t want to choose something that is identical to hers, and at the same time, I want her take on the dress. Even if we elope, I want it to be special, and I want a photographer and my dad there. I don’t know how my dad will feel about it.
“Kenton,” I ask, as we grow closer to my front door. “How did my dad respond when you told him that we were together?”
“Well…” he pauses, thinking of the words to say, before stepping under the porch light.
“Oh my god,” I gush in horror. “What happened to your jaw?” Reaching up for his face and turning it back and forth to inspect the purple bruise that is forming on his jaw.
“Did my grandpa do this?” I demand, pulling him through the door and toward the kitchen for an ice pack.
“No,” he mutters, turning his head and inspecting the swollen mark on his handsome face. “Your dad did.”
“He hit you?” I exclaim, “Why would he do that?” I demand, yanking an ice pack from the freezer and placing it gently on his jaw.
“Because I am dating his daughter,” he says with a small shrug as if it were a completely normal response. “It wasn't entirely unexpected. I think I would do it too if he were with Charlie.”
Men, I think, wondering how they can be so archaic while managing to lead ordinary lives and avoid extinction. They will be their own end, I know.
“Did you hit him back?” I wonder, pushing him down onto the chair so that I can get a better look at his face.
“No, of course not,” he laughs up at me, his eyes full of amusement. “I mean, I considered it for a moment, when he walked into the police department. I was really close to laying him out.” He frowns, gently testing the skin under the ice that is no doubt numb now.
“Why were you going to punch him when he came in?” I ask, a little curious about the change in circumstances.
“I was angry with him because you were in that situation. I knew it was you that ran away and I was furious that you were in a position where you needed to run like a fucking cheetah from a cop,” he mutters, obviously not over the incident.
“I am pretty fast,” I laugh. “I figured I could match your speed in a race, it didn’t occur to me that I would leave you in the dust,” I laugh, enjoying the memory.
Now that it’s over, I can appreciate that I triumphed over him in a foot race. It’s not like he wasn’t trying either. He really chased after me as hard as he could. It only improves my mood.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes, and pulling me into his lap, “I could have caught you if you hadn’t had the head start.
“I don’t know,” I tease. You were spying on me, you knew I was there the entire time, you could have been poised to pounce at any time. I think I would have gotten even further if I were properly prepared for the race.”
“Race? Is that what we are calling it now?” he asks with a small laugh, his eye bright with humor.
“Yes, that’s what I’m calling it,” I giggle, removing the ice pack and laying it on the small square table.
“I love you, Lucy,” he whispers, his hand brushing my long hair behind my ear.
“I love you too.”
Leaning forward and closing my eyes, I press my lips against his, enjoying the way they mold against mine, filling me with warmth as I melt into his arms.
THE END