“Oh, I bet they cared about more than that,” she argues playfully. “I saw the way you looked in that uniform.”
I glance over at Caleb, who is still close enough to hear her words, and his brows arch in amusement.
“A man is more than the way he looks in his uniform,” I argue.
She turns, crossing her arms, and smirks at me. “Is he, though?”
“You’re more than a pretty woman in a sundress and red lipstick,” I say as I take a step toward her.
And while sheismore, she is also a very pretty woman in a blue sundress with red lipstick. I watch from my peripheral as Caleb leaves us—giving us space without saying a word.
Her smile falters as her gaze falls toward the turf; then quietly she murmurs, “I don’t know, Milo.”
I reach for her instinctively, my hands wrapping around her arms. “Hey. Look at me,” I say gently.
Her chin lifts slowly, uncertainty pooling in her big brown eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
She sucks her lower lip as she inhales deeply. “I haven’t doneanything with my life. Not like you have. Not like this.” A tear tumbles down her cheek and I catch it with my finger, brushing it away. Her eyes drift from mine. “I was just . . . I just thought . . . I was supposed to be more.”
I’ve written words to this woman about how I’d give all this up if I had the chance to go back in time, but those are just words, and I find myself needing to give her more than that at this moment. I kneel before her, not wanting to hover above and make her seem small.
“Sadie,” I say. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re so much more than what you do.”
She looks down at me. “All I am is what I do. What everyone expects of me. This trip,the list, is the first thing I’ve done for myself since . . . forever. I’m afraid to go back, afraid to undo all I’m doing and feeling.”
“What are you feeling?” I ask, my heartbeat beginning to pick up its pace.
She sighs. “Myself. I feel myself.”
I grin softly at her words. “Sadie, you’re so beautiful as yourself.”
Her cheeks turn red and her eyes dart around the stadium, but I take her hands in my mine and pull her down so she’s kneeling in front of me. I wipe another tear tumbling down her face before I wrap my arms tightly around her. I feel her breathe into me, her body resting against mine. Her muscles relax as she grows heavier in my arms, letting me be the strength she needs right now.
“You have to say that because you’re my ex-boyfriend,” she mumbles into my chest.
I laugh. “Most ex-boyfriends would say the opposite, even if it was untrue.”
Seconds pass before she asks, breath hot through my shirt, “Milo?”
“Hm?”
“Did I say you could kiss me the other night?” Her voice isquiet, almost timid, as if she’s tiptoeing around the details of karaoke and piña coladas.
“You did,” I confirm.
“Did you kiss me?”
“No,” I say simply.
“What if I asked you now?” She tilts her chin up at me.
I pull back slightly so I can see her fully. “I won’t kiss you unless it’s your choice, Sadie.”
I need her to choose me, because I know that right now she feels everything in her life has been chosen for her.
“Milo?” Her voice has grown deeper and steady, and it’s reflected in her eyes.
