Page 89 of Sterling Fight

If I kept people in my life, I’d keep him. Instead, I tend to lose them, like my father. Like my mother.

I’m forty and alone, and a bit iffy about my future. Then, I glance at the amethyst ring on my left hand.

Would being married be that bad? Not every day would be perfect, but overall, marriage might be nice. Having a partner in life. Sharing the days, both specialty ones and the mundane. Cuddling with someone at night and continuing to discover what makes each of us happy. Growing together, like Judd’s garden. Weathering any storm hand-in-hand.

Perhaps that’s been the issue for my mother. She never found a hand that fit hers. Maybe my father hadn’t even been it for her. Her numerous marriages might have been the desperate search to find a love that doesn’t sour; however, her rigid expectations have made everyone fall short. She is hard and bitter, and everything I don’t want to become.

And I am not her. Love doesn’t come with a manual or guidelines. It doesn’t fit in a box, or march to less rhythm, or force itself into an atrocious yellow dress. Love does not restrict or belittle.

Love is being tossed into a cool lake or found when lost or cuddled in a storm. Love is quiet nights reading and warm afternoons talking. Love is being honest and ink on skin and hearts marked with memories that can never be replaced.

Love is . . . Judd.

The revelation isn’t shocking. Like the flicker of a candle, it’s enlightening.

“Happy birthday to me,” I whisper and lift the cupcake container, like an offering to the sky, like a toast when I don’t drink champagne because of this day.

“My wish would be that you were here to celebrate.” I blow a kiss to the sky, hopeful that heaven exists and my dad is up there hanging with the entity that created the universe.

Then I bow my head and smile weakly to myself. I don’t know that I’ve ever believed in fate until ten days ago when Judd Sylver stood in the corner of my mother’s living room, a bit anxious, a lot handsome, and waiting on me when I didn’t even know he’d be present.

Could Judd Sylver be my destiny?

Sitting on the side of a different mountain pass, I open the plastic container and take a bite of the birthday cake cupcake, humming at Sebastian Sylver’s ability to create such a treat.

Then I make a second birthday wish.

Couple goals. Keeping Judd as my other half in a couple.

When I return to Judd’s place, I school my expression and try to tap into a happier place inside me. I’m forty. I’ve reached a milestone some people don’t see.

Judd sent me a text that he went to see Simon. Earlier, he didn’t mention asking me to stay, and I didn’t want to bring it up, afraid he didn’t mean to say it. Between the poem and the moments of passion afterward, maybe he simply misspoke. Asking him would resolve my doubt but my mind is already mush because of the date. Initially, I intended to leave Sterling Falls after a birthday celebration with my mother; however, as that moment didn’t happen, I find I’m stalling.

Taking a seat at Judd’s dining room table, I decide to work through the day, getting lost in some art. I have a good mental picture of my new Quirky Adventure Girl, the one who appreciates the outdoors a little more than my original girls who are more into plants and books. I’m eager to get started on some sketches.

With my laptop open and the sunlight streaming into the room, Judd enters the space with his laptop in hand.

“Simon missed you today,” Judd says, his gaze lowered, like he has more to say but doesn’t know where to start.

“I’m so sorry I missed him.” I mean it. Simon is important to Judd. They often text one another and Judd checks in with Trudy to see if Simon needs anything. He’s told me more about what he does for the young boy and how he feels about him, and I’m sorry I missed out on time spent with him.

However, I had a reason to be alone for a while.

“Mind if I join you?”

The rectangular table is dark wood with six dining chairs but suddenly I’m reminded of library tables. The arrangement of tables between the mass of bookshelves.

“This seat is open,” I announce, pointing to the one to my left as I sit at the head of the table.

Judd takes the chair, his back to the bright windows, and opens his laptop. Hardly a minute passes before he’s glancing at my paper sketch pad and some notes I’ve made.

“What are you working on?”

“Another Quirky Girl.” I hear the lift in my voice as I sit straighter in my chair and wiggle my shoulders. The one thing I love to talk about most are my calendars. Knowing Judd will listen, fully engaged, I explain my vision, share my initial sketches, and tell him a few of my ideas for specialty dates.

“National Love a Tree Day is coming soon. May sixteenth. And National Tree Day is in early August which is different from National Arbor Day which takes place in April.” I continue to tell him additional dates related to the great outdoors and explain my research for even more novelty dates to include.

At one point, Judd’s bare toes connected with mine beneath the table and we hold that hidden connection throughout my chattering.