I took her into the shower after we made love. I washed her under warm water as she hummed a song that we danced to the other night.
I stood and stared at her, basking in the rawness of her beauty, in the softness of her soul.
I’ve never met a better person than her.
She makes me want to be a better man.
I scoop the ring into my palm. I turn it to the left and then the right. The clear stones catch on the soft rays of light coming from the lamp in the corner.
Pride bubbled in my chest when I threw the winning touchdown during that game.
I looked over to see Coach on his feet, his hands in the air, and his beautiful daughter by his side.
She was only sixteen that day.
Too young for me to touch and too innocent to want to touch me.
She offered her palm in a high five when she hit the field in celebration with her dad. I curled my fingers around hers to savor the contact for just a few seconds.
Her eyes widened when I did it.
A flush of pink tainted the perfect skin of her cheeks. The color a match to the T-shirt she was wearing.
I knew that day that she had never been touched. I knew from the scowl on her dad’s face when he caught me with her hand in mine, that I wouldn’t be the guy who took her to bed for the first time.
He saw me as his son.
It was a line I couldn’t cross. My respect for him back then trumped my need for her.
He’s gone. She’s here, and I need to level the playing field.
“Hey.”
Her voice breaks through the memories. I turn to see her standing next to the couch. The band T-shirt covers her body.
I laugh. “I thought you hated that shirt.”
She skims the bottom hem with her fingers. “On you, I do. I kind of like it on me.”
“Keep it.”
Her head shakes, sending her long hair skimming over her shoulders. “I’d rather keep the jersey. We can negotiate for it, can’t we?”
I pat the couch next to me, wanting her beside me. “It’s yours.”
“Really?” She claps her hands together. “You don’t want it?”
All I want is her forgiveness and a chance to spend every day I have left on this earth with her.
I take in a deep breath, warning myself to slow the hell down.
There are too many factors at play. I can’t control it all, but I can control something.
She lowers herself to the couch, tucking one leg beneath her. I get a flash of the blue panties she was wearing earlier.
I could go at her again. I want to, but there’s something I want to do more. There’s something I need to do more.
‘The ring.” She looks down at my palm. “I remember the day you won it.”