“They’re doing some kind of mini family reunion next weekend, and they asked if I wanted to come. I said I would, but only if I could bring you.”
She smiles, my heart nearly bursting in my chest the way it does every damn time she looks at me.
“I would love to go. I need more dirt–I mean stories–about baby Griffin,” she says, smile turning wicked.
Mental note–bribe your cousins to hide all the family photo albums.
As shocked as I am that Aunt Lizzie invited me, I can’t wait for them to meet this girl–woman? Angel on earth?
And honestly, I can’t wait for her to meet them. Some of my happiest childhood memories are from the summers we spent at the lake with Lizzie and Ryan, and their boys, Harrison and Hunter. Harrison is two years younger than me, and Hunter two years younger than him. We were thick as thieves, until Ryan’s job moved them an hour north of Larkspur and they took up permanent residence in the lake house. In reality it’s only about fifty miles, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world for how far away it felt. Still feels.
Gazing across the table, transfixed by my golden ray of sunshine, I realize that it doesn’t hurt like it used to–theway it felt like an entire half of my family dropped me as soon as my mom bowed out. Between my dad, David and Jack, and my darlin’ Eleanor, I’ve got all the love and support a guy could dream of having.
“Do I have something on my face?” she asks, and I realize I’ve been silently staring at her for the better part of five minutes. She doesn’t, but I reach across and swipe my thumb along her chin anyway, desperate for any excuse I can find to touch her.
“Your face is perfect,” I say, my voice surprisingly thick with emotion. “Most beautiful sight in the world.”
She shakes her head in amusement, setting down her silverware and folding her hands under her chin to prop her head up. “You sure are a smooth talker, Griffin Hart.”
“I mean every word.”
“I never said I didn’t like it,” she says, “I’m just waiting for the day you run out of sweet things to say to me.”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head at her. I could talk non-stop, twenty four hours a day, every day, for the rest of my life, and never hit the bottom of the well of how I feel about her.
“Never gonna happen,” I say with the same assurance as I would saying the sky is blue. “I’ll even make sure to write it all down so it’s recorded in history when I’m dead and gone.”
“Well I’ll never be reading that,” she says. When I raise my eyebrows at her, she continues, “I fully intend on dying first. No way I’m doing any of this by myself.”
We pivot back to more lighthearted topics for the rest of dinner, then take the long way back before I drop her off for the night. Parked out in front of her house, we make out in my truck for a solid twenty minutes before her porch light flickers on, signaling that her parents know we’re here andabsolutelyknow what we’re doing.
With one last quick kiss, she leaps from my truck, yelling “I love you, cowboy” as she walks backwards toward her house, only turning away from me once she reaches the front door.
I can’t wipe the grin off my face the whole drive home. Or as I get ready for bed. In fact, I’m pretty sure I fall asleep with a smile on my face, memories of days spent with Eleanor far better than any dream I might find in sleep.
***
“Do I look okay?” Eleanor asks nervously, spinning around in a baby blue sundress, completely knocking the wind out of me. The thin straps have her freckled shoulders on full display, the swell of her breasts barely visible above the modest sweetheart neckline. The soft fabric cinches in at her waist, accentuating her curves before flowing down to just above her knee. Between the hue of her dress and her sun-kissed skin, her blue eyes sparkle brighter than I’ve ever seen.
“You need to change,” I say flatly.
“What?” she says, eyes widening in fear. “Is it too much? Or too casual?”
“I can’t focus on my family reunion if all I’m thinking about is tearing that dress off of you and taking you to the nearest bed I can find.”
Her expression immediately turns from nervous to exasperated.
“Griffin, you scared the shit out of me,” she scolds. “I’m already nervous enough, don’t do that to me.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” I say, pulling her in close and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You look beautiful. Don’t change a thing.”
“Thank you,” she says, almost begrudgingly. A low laugh rumbles in my chest and I squeeze her tighter.
An hour later we pull up to the lakehouse, my heart instantly warming with nostalgia and excitement. I’ve always loved this place, and didn’t realize how much I missed it until right now.
“You ready, darlin’?”
She nods, nervously chewing on her bottom lip and twisting the fabric of her dress in her hands. I reach out and take her hand in mine, bringing it to my mouth for a quick kiss, then step out of my truck and move around the front to open her door.
