My feet are grounded on the earth. The heavens above me are right where they belong. And in between the earth and the heavens, I have myself.
I trust myself.
I love myself.
And, standing there in the dark woods I know without a doubt that if I offer my heart to Zach and he breaks it, I’ll grieve. Maybe for the rest of my life.
But I’ll have no regrets.
“I’m right here,” Zach says, his voice low and soft. And then he squeezes my hand.
It’s not just the relief his words give me that have my eyes filling.
“Right,” I say roughly and forge on.
In another minute, I can smell water, the darkness opening my senses. The forest begins to thin and the unleashed breeze teases my face.
And then I see them to my left. The lights outlining my tent.
We step into the open, and as soon as Zach spots the tent, he halts beside me. And I swear, it’s the longest three seconds of my life, watching him stare soundlessly at the whole, reckless baring of my heart.
Because from here, with the rainfly folded back on itself and the glow of the fairy lights, we can see the rustic bed—with two inflatable pillows and a comforter made of my sleeping bag. Honestly, it turned out perfect. It might as well come with a string of hashtags: #wildlove #campinglife #datenight.
But my fear is that #triedtoohard or #crash&burn might be the ones that sum up my efforts. In fact, I—
“Greta. Oh my God.” Zach’s voice is a rumble of reverence. His grip tightens around my hand and then we’re trampling the ground, closing the distance to the little campsite in swift strides.
With his free hand, Zach fishes out his own phone and shines his flashlight, illuminating the mini stove, the two light-weight tripod stools on either side of it, and then, as though saving the best for last, he tugs us closer to the tent. His spotlight runs over the makeshift bed and the rest of the tent’s interior.
And then Zach taps off the light, pockets his phone, and faces me. I hold my breath.
“You did this while I hosted Happy Hour?”
I nod, too nervous to use my voice. We’re standing right beside the tent, so I know he can see my face as clearly as I can see his in the glow of the fairy lights. They make his wide eyes glint, and he looks…
He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
‘I-Is that okay?” I squeak.
At first, it’s just a huff. And then the riverbank echoes with his laughter. He tilts his head back and laughs at the stars. My insides feel like a shaken Mountain Dew. Fizzing. Syruppy. Highly caffeinated.
“Is it okay,she says,” Zach mutters around his fading laughter. Then he shakes his head before bringing his gaze back to me. The man is still smiling, and the sight of his beloved smile is hijacking my heartbeat. “I’d all but convinced myself you were going to break up with me.”
My jaw drops. “Break up withyou?Why would you think that?” Knowing he had the same fears galvanizes something fiercely protective in me. I know I’d do anything to shield his heart.
Zach snorts. Then he claws his free hand through his hair, dragging dark curls out of his eyes. He seems to weigh his words. “Let’s just say Josh’s return messed with my head.”
My heart squeezes. “Baby…”
His lips press together, and he blinks, looking uncertain. “Did… Did you consider taking him back?”
I practically choke.“What?! Hell, no!”And this time, I’m the one disturbing the quiet of the woods.
I drop his hand and grip the front of his Henley in both fists. “Not for a second.” I’m shaking my head. “Never.”
A mixture of heat and relief floods his gaze. One hand flattens against the small of my back and the other cups my cheek.
I expect—and desperately want—him to kiss me. Zach’s mouth opens and closes, but it comes no closer to mine.
