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"Wouldn't dream of leaving you hanging." She stands on tiptoe and gives me a quick kiss, her lips warm against mine, a promise of more to come.
"Safe travels, Jules." I watch her blend into the line, her red hair a beacon until she rounds the corner and disappears from sight.
I head back to my truck, the weight of her absence settling over me like a storm cloud. Long-distance relationships are hard, everyone says so. But as I slide behind the wheel, I can still feel the imprint of her hand in mine, the echo of her laughter in my ears.
"Hard doesn't mean impossible," I mutter to the empty cab. "We'll make it work. Somehow, we'll make it work."
The drive back is quiet. The rolling hills of Texas spread out before me, but today, they feel a little emptier, a touch lonelier. Yet there's a thread of hope, bright and persistent, weaving through my thoughts.
"Long-distance," I say to the horizon, as if testing the words. "Just another challenge to tackle, right?"
And with that, I press down on the accelerator, racing toward the future, one that holds a fiery-haired woman with a laugh that can fill even the wide expanse of Texas sky.
The dust from the truck's tires settles as I step out, the familiar creak of the ranch gate filling the silence. My mother, Paula, is perched on my porch swing like a queen in her domain. Her eyes, the same blue as mine, watch me approach with that all-knowing glint that sets my nerves on edge.
"Hey, Ma," I say, tipping my hat back and squinting against the midday sun.
"Ryan," she greets, her voice carrying the warmth of Texas summer. "How'd it go at the airport?"
"Fine, Ma." I hesitate, then decide to dive right in. "We need to talk about you and Vivian playing matchmakers."
Her lips twitch into a smile, but she doesn't bat an eyelid. "Oh? And what makes you think we had anything to do with it?"
"Jules mentioned something..." I trail off, watching her expression. Sure enough, there's a flicker of triumph.
"Julia's a smart girl," Paula says, patting the seat beside her on the swing. "Y'all make a handsome couple, if I may say so myself."
"Ma," I start, sitting down with a sigh, "I appreciate the sentiment, but you can't just..."
"Can't just what? Want my boy to find happiness?" She tilts her head, and I'm reminded of how she used to corner me into admitting I'd snuck cookies before dinner.
"Of course not, but…"
"But nothing." She takes my hand, her grip firm. "You're not getting any younger, Ryan. And that girl, she's got fire in her. You need someone like that."
I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head. "You've always been too clever for your own good, Ma."
"Runs in the family," she quips, giving my hand a squeeze before letting go. "Now, tell me, are you gonna fight for this one, or let her slip away?"
"Fight," I say without hesitation, the word feeling like a branding iron to my resolve. "I'll fight for her."
"Good." Mom nods, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "Because that girl's worth more than any billion-dollar fortune. And don't you forget it."
"Never could, with you as my ma," I reply, the corners of my mouth lifting despite the turmoil inside.
"Go on, get inside. I made lemonade," she says, already heading for the door.
"Thanks, Ma," I call after her, watching her go. There's a fierceness to her love, fierce like the Texas sun. And I reckon, thanks to her meddling, I've found someone with a love just as fierce. Julia.
The porch creaks under our weight as we sink into the rocking chairs, hers weathered and mine that Dad built before I was born. He’s where I got my love for woodworking, but he’s been gone since I was in college, and I still miss him. A gentle wind teases the chimes hanging in the corner, their melodies a comforting backdrop to Ma's forthcoming confession.
"Alright, spill it," I say, tipping my hat back with a grin. "How did you manage to play Cupid without me catching on?"
Mom chuckles, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Well, it all started with that dating app," she begins. "I created a profile for you, like I mentioned to you before."
“Ugh, Ma.” My head hits the back of the chair. She laughs louder, almost snorting.
"Ryan, honey, hear me out. I didn't know who I was chatting with at first. But then Vivian—oh Lord, Vivian—she called me up." Mom covers her mouth, trying to stifle another fit of laughter.
