Page 99 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

Tingles of love race down my spine, as my very being has a visceral reaction to this word and indefinitely tethers itself to him. Our connection, the feeling of wholeness, the mutual understanding and respect of each other, my best friend, and the unconditional love and my lover all wrapped into one. Is there anything in this world more treasured than this? My throat tightens, and I blink back the burn in my eyes.

“But how did you know we would get along?”

He gives me a flat look.

“Come on.” He holds up his hand and glances at his pointer finger. “Well, first of all, you’re friends with Camille. I happen to hold her on a pedestal, and she’s very particular about who she lets in. She let you in.” He adds the next finger. “Second, you laughed a lot, which told me you had a great sense of humor, which I value.” He adds the third. “You were down for whatever that night. We could have driven to Georgia and back or just ended up at your place, and you were happy to go along. This told me you were adventurous.” Now, he holds up four. “I saw your place. You weren’t hiding fourteen smelly animals or a closet hoarder. And fifth.” His whole hand is open now. “I could go on and on, but you were kind, sweet, and so damn beautiful it hurt to look at you. I couldn’t find any red flags, not that I was really looking. You had me spellbound, but unless something off the wall emerged, my mind was not changing. There is no changing my mind. But then Vivi happened.” He drops his hand. “I grieved the loss of my brother, but I need you to know I also grieved you.”

“Jonah . . .” I take both his hands and wrap them in mine. “I still wish you would have reached out and told me. I’m sorry I let my hurt feelings get in the way of being there for you. I will forever feel terrible about this.”

He shakes his head.

“No. I don’t want that. A relationship shouldn’t start like that. I was so overwhelmed by it all too. I was twenty-four years old and knew nothing about shutting down someone’s life or taking care of a five-year-old. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

“I hear what you’re saying, and we’ve talked about this before, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wish I could have been there for you both.”

“You’re here now,” he says, dropping one hand and leaning forward to tuck some loose hair behind my ear. I love it when he does this, he always runs a finger down the side of my face when he’s done.

“Can I ask you something? It’s completely random, but I am curious.”

“Of course,” he says, now inching his way closer to me. His knees brush up against mine as they bracket them on the outside. We’ve completely forgotten about dinner, not that I wanted to eat anything until this conversation was over anyway.

“When is your birthday?” I ask him.

His brows pop, and he lets out a single chuckle. “May eighteenth.”

So I just missed celebrating it with him.

“So that makes you twenty-seven.” I’m feeling oddly nervous that he might now realize our age gap.

“Last I checked. When is your birthday?”

“November sixteenth.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles like he’s committing that date to memory. “And how old will you be on November sixteenth?”

My stomach clenches. I just need to spit it out. “I’ll be thirty-four.”

He chuckles again, this time his smile stretching across his handsome face.

“I always did like older women.” He winks, flirting with me.

The admiration I have for this man is endless, but then I remember my speech. There are things I want to tell him—no, I need to.

“My father is getting married,” I announce, which might feel out of nowhere for him, but it doesn’t to me.

His eyebrows rise. “Okay. That’s good, right? You did mention he was hinting around to it.”

“Yes. But it’s official, and get this, they bought a small RV.”

One side of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t understand, but he sits patiently as he wants to listen to me.

“All these years, I wanted to be there to be with him. That’s what family does, right? They stick together. But then he tells me he and Chrissy bought an RV and are planning to travel during the winter months. Like snowbirds.”

He frowns. Now he’s catching on.

“Snowbirds. So you’re going to move back to Minnesota and he’s going to turn around and leave you there?” He shifts in his chair, not happy with the picture he’s just painted.

“Basically, that’s what I was thinking and how I felt too, until he tells me that his plan was to spend the winter months down here with me.”