Page 85 of Home Is Where You Are

He sat on a checkered picnic blanket, pulling items out of a basket. A smile formed on my lips as I stopped and watched him fret over setting up. The last item he pulled out of the basket was a vase with a single red rose. My smile widened at the way he thought of everything to make our date as perfect as it could be.

I took the final steps toward him and alerted him of my presence.

He stood and walked over to me, grabbed my hand, and led me over to the most perfect picnic.

I pulled my phone from my back pocket and tossed it on the blanket so I could sit comfortably.

“You thought of everything,” I said as I took in all my favorite finger foods.

He had watermelon and a saltshaker because who didn’t love watermelon with a dash of salt. It brought out the sweetness, and no one could tell me otherwise. There was a container with chicken tenders and another with potato wedges. This man still remembered all my favorite foods all these years later. My heart swelled at the thoughtfulness he’d put into our date.

“Anything for you, butterfly,” he said as he handed me a piece of paper shaped into a beautiful butterfly.

“You can’t open and read that until later,” he said as he finished opening the rest of the containers.

“Now you have me intrigued, and I want to open it now,” I joked as I toyed with my ponytail.

“Later,” he insisted as he opened a can of soda and handed it over to me.

I rolled the can of soda between my hands as we sat in comfortable silence.

“Dig in,” he said as he sat back and took a bite out of the honey mustard covered chicken tender.

“Any confessions today?” I mumbled as we both took bites of our food.

“I can tell you're nervous. Don’t be. I don’t have any confessions today. I wanted us to be alone and away from prying eyes. No one will bother us out here. Plus, I have an ulterior motive for bringing you here,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh, and what would that be?”

He turned to the side and pointed his finger. “You see that spot right over there?” he asked.

“Yeah, what about it?” I questioned. My eyes furrowed trying to figure out what he was getting at.

“That’s the same spot I saw you for the first time. My fourteen-year-old self knew you’d be important to me someday the second I saw you chasing the butterfly in the field.”

I swooned at his words. I vaguely remembered that day, but I was off in my own little world, not seeing Holden and Gentry as they walked around the property tossing a football back and forth to each other. But here he sat, remembering our first meeting as if it had occurred yesterday.

“How’d you know?”

“My heart fluttered in my chest the second I saw your blonde hair swaying in the breeze. When you turned around and smiled, laughing at Holden, your smile lit up my life like nothing else had in the entire world. I often laid in my bed at night, especially when the nights were hard, and the image of your smile would ease every bad moment,” he confessed.

“I never knew that,” I whispered as I sat my drink on the blanket and reached out my hand, caressing the top of his.

“A man needs to keep some things to himself,” he joked as he tossed a grape up in the air and caught it in his mouth.

“Speaking of hard nights, how’re you doing with your parents being gone?” I hated to ask and ruin the moment, but I wanted to be there for him the same way he’d been with me.

“I’m okay.” I went to say something, but he held up his hand. “At first it was hard. I’d just lost you, and then my parents said horrible things before they just left. I had no one and nowhere to turn. Thankfully your dad found me when he did. If he hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be today.”

“I’m glad my parents were there for you. I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t want to ruin our date with heavy conversations, but I just wanted you to know I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

“It’s in the past, butterfly. Let’s just enjoy our date,” he said quickly as he looked down at the blanket then back up at me with a smile. He turned his hand over to link our fingers.

We sat there, holding hands and eating with one hand without a care in the world. When we finished eating, we packed up the containers and put them back in the picnic basket.

“Let’s play twenty questions,” he recommended, as he sat with his back against the tree, his legs splayed out in front of him. He patted the spot in between his legs, and I willingly went over to him, my back to his front as I nestled my body against his, relishing being in his arms.

That game could be fun, or it could lead to hard topics. Only time would tell.