His eyes are darting everywhere, as if he’s doing a safety check on me to make sure I’m physically intact. From my head to my feet, he inspects, and I let him. I let him prove that the thought probably racing through his head is wrong, whatever it’s telling him.
After a while he asks, “How are you?”
I nod awkwardly, all of my adrenaline from earlier slowly dissipating.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asks.
I take a deep breath, giving myself an extra few seconds to find the right words.
“I’m afraid that you’ll leave,” I say. Instantly, he frowns and open his mouth, but I hold out a hand to stop him. “No, just let me get this out.” His mouth closes and externally, I see nothing but patience. His eyes tell a different story, though. “That’s the real reason; why I ended things, I mean. I did it because I’m scared that you’ll get bored and you’ll leave me. Usually, I wouldn’t care that much. I know I’d get over it. But I was so scared, Finn, because I knew that this time I wouldn’t survive. I knew that I would crumble into nothing, because this time my feelings were more than just a small infatuation. This time, I’m so in love that it hurts sometimes and it brings waves of fear that make me want to run and hide.
“I know that it isn’t logical. I know that, because you’ve felt the same way since we were teenagers and you never once wavered…I think. Even if you did, you were there. You’ve always been there, and that month we had made me see that you were so much more than what I thought. You’re just…you. I didn’t think I could keep the interest of someone like you.”
His eyes darken at that last part and his frown becomes intimidating, as if I’ve disrespected him in the worst way.
“Oakleigh—” He stops himself and turns away from me, tilting his head back to look at the drooping branches above us and run a hand over his face. When he turns back, his eyes are bright and wild. “Oakleigh, do you not see that if lying was the only way to get me to where we are now, then I would do it a hundred times over? If living in agony for years, pretending that I am not obsessed with your every word, your every sound, your every goddamn breath is what I had to do in every lifetime to get me to now, then so be it. When are you going to understand that I don’t care how we got here, not when I now get to tell you that you make me see how bright the sun is and that you make me feel like savoring every breath. My OCD is an obstacle I will gladly face, because my reward for fighting every day is that I get to look at you and love you, take care of you and worship you.”
I’m left speechless, completely unsure of what I can say next that can encapsulate what his words make me feel.
He steps forward, cupping my face in his hands firmly but with so much care. “I always imagined the way in which I would tell you that I love you.” My heart stops, but my mind clings to every word as Finn continues. “For fifteen years, I’ve planned it out, time and time again, and I don’t think any scenario was wrong, and yet here I am trying to tell you and the words seem to be so far from good enough. Strong enough. But now I’m at a point where I no longer want to simply tell you that I love you; not when I’ve spent fifteen years trying not to show you.”
I smile up at him, tears blurring my vision. “Then show me, and I’ll do everything I can to show you.”
“Deal.” His smile matches mine as he leans down, and I feel it against my lips as he kisses me, firmly, possessively. There’s cheering behind us, and I have no choice but to pull away from Finn and laugh, before my lips find his once more and I make sure not to hide a single thing. Not my love and not my fear, because Finn will love both regardless.
When he pulls away, his forehead stays pressed against mine.
“Oh, and before I forget,” I say before giving him another brief kiss. “You’re completely out of the zone.”
His laugh rumbles against my chest and my lips. “Cherry, you’ve never been in the zone. Not for a single second.”
Epilogue
FINN
Three years later…
Irub out another line, my frustration growing. Why can’t I seem to make this idea work? I massage my temples, but the pressure doesn’t seem to dissipate. I try again, marking the curve and the steel beams that go across the roof of the extension.
“Will you ever be happy with this house?” My wife’s voice drifts over from behind me and I smile to myself. Her hands slide down from my shoulders over my chest, her emerald engagement ring and silver wedding band glinting in the summer sun.
(Come on, I’ve been waiting fifteen years; you didn’t expect me to wait long to pop the question, did you?)
I managed to go all of three months dating Oakleigh before I set a competition before her—one that I knew she’d win. At the end of it, she found her engagement ring and me behind her on one knee. I’d had the ring ever since we started dating for real, hidden behind two pairs of underwear in my bedside table. The only reason we waited so long to get married was because Oakleigh was adamant she wanted to do it at our new home. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it was because of the cherry trees I had planted at the side of the property; her own little orchard. There’s a wide path going through the middle of the orchard and so the aisle kind of designed itself. She also wanted to make sure that her mom and sister could fly over from Australia, something that I made sure was all paid for.
You’d think that after two years of marriage, that spark of possessiveness would have dissipated by now, replaced with a feeling of protective contentment, but no. Now, more than ever, a fire burns within me when I see our matching wedding bands sit side by side when I hold her hand in mine.
I kiss the back of her hand and press it back to my chest, holding her tightly as if she’ll disappear the moment I let go.
“At some point, I’m sure,” I reply.
The house has been finished for all of a month from the last modification I made to it, and yet I’m already thinking of adding an extension. Call me crazy, but here is the only place I really have complete free rein to add any crazy ideas I come up with.
Oakleigh leans down until her face is in line with mine. She squints down at the drawing on the garden table and shakes her head. “I don’t like it.”
Well, almost complete free rein.
I scrunch the paper up and playfully throw it at her head. “If you don’t like it, then it’s gone.”
