Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)

We make it back to the girls with mere minutes to spare before the Mason cup drops. They each eagerly take the cups of hot cocoa from the cardboard tray, sippin’ slowly and lettin’ the warmth soothe them. I wrap my arms around Jordan’s waist from behind, pressing my face in the hollow of her neck. She smells like vanilla and sunshine, the only scent that can calm the storm within me when panic edges its way up in my chest.

I don’t like crowds of people, but Jordan and I rarely get a night to ourselves; besides, it’s New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t imagine ringin’ the new year in without her.

The whirlwind of 2019 flashes back through my memory, knockin’ the air from my lungs. It’s hard to believe just eight short months ago I lay near death, clingin’ to life just to see my little girl’s face one last time. Okay, so it wasn’t really death, but damn if a panic attack often doesn’t feel like it’s killin’ ya! That event spurred a chain reaction that brought me to this very moment in my life, kneeling before Jordan as the clock strikes midnight.

Her hand palms her mouth, and her eyes spring fresh tears as she chokes back a sob.

“I love you, Jordan. Just say yes.” There’s no need to proclaim my undyin’ love for her in front of thousands of people; Jordan knows exactly what she means to me.

I slip the ring from the box and take her hand in mine, kissin’ her palm. “YES!” she exclaims, tacklin’ me to the cold, hard ground. She locks her lips on mine and pours every ounce of love and devotion she feels for me behind the kiss.

A chorus of cheers surround us, but I only see her.

Jordan is my saving grace, the anchor that steadies the rocky, tumultuous storms in this hellacious thing we call life. She made me the man I am today—fuckin’ literally, and I’ll give each breath I breathe to love her endlessly.

THE END