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My legs feel unsteady as I walk down the aisle to where Callie waits, wearing that damned tiara from the vintage store. I’ve never been so glad to see “someone’s old hand-me-down.” Sitting on a chair next to Scout, I now see the red, white, and blue top hat, and it makes me smile. When I get close enough to see Scout’s pillow, I find two twisted pipe cleaners sitting on top, each in the form of a ring.
When I reach Callie, she holds both hands out toward me. I’m down for whatever cute preschool vows we may say right now, but I make a bigger vow to myself that I’ll never let her go again.
“Shall we begin?” Shannon holds the top hat out to me and sticks out her tongue to the kids, who all laugh. I can see why she’s Scout’s favorite. He’s bouncing on his toes, excited to be part of the action, however it unfolds.
“Sure,” I say.
“Here at Firefly Preschool, we have a few important rules: treat others the way you want to be treated, show your love, and always use your words.”
Callie’s eyes sparkle, their blue captivating me as always. I let go of one hand, so I can slide her tangle of blond over one shoulder. I want to see her whole face. I’m rewarded with a dimpled smile.
“Callie and Luke, here is your chance to show the kids how you follow those rules. Callie, why don’t you start?”
She nods. “Okay. Luke, I’ve never met anyone more devoted to the people he loves. You are my role model. You show your love every day, and with my words, I want to do the same. I love you.”
The kids clap, and I give Callie a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Now my turn?” I ask
“If you’d like. We know you didn’t have time to prepare.”
“I don’t need time. I only have one thing to say. I love you, Callie.”
Scout holds up his pillow, and we each take a pipe cleaner ring and slide it on each other’s fingers. Then we walk down the aisle together and go inside to help the teachers set up the morning snack.
Once these kids are out of earshot, Callie pulls me aside. “There’s so much I wanted to say to you that I couldn’t say in front of the kids. You gave me the freedom to leave. I can’t tell you how much it means that you get me. But all that running, that was before I met you. And now I don’t want to run. I want to stay.”
“I want that too. God, you have no idea how much I want that.”
“I think I might have an idea,” she says.
I pull her into a tiny alcove behind the backpack cubbies where no one can see us. Every bit of measured restraint I showed in front of the kids slips away, and I kiss her the way I’ve been dreaming of since she left.
Deep, soft, wet.
Love, lust, desire.
Everything I can communicate in ten seconds, which is all I dare to do at a preschool.
Her hands curl into my hair at the nape of my neck, and she sighs as I pull away. “Ah, you know I love a good stolen moment,” she says.
Then we go inside to start slicing cheese into small squares, cubing watermelon, and putting it on plates. The blueberry mini-muffins don’t fit on the tray, so I put those aside. We work side by side wordlessly, but I can see the smile on Callie’s face, and it takes the place of the words we don’t need to say because we have a lifetime to do that.
To be a couple. To be a family.
“Let’s give them the muffins on a separate platter, like dessert,” Callie says, focused on the mundane task. It’s one of many things I love about her—that she can absorb herself in a mundane task.
After a fake wedding.
After a fake engagement.
During a real love story.
EPILOGUE
Callie
One Month Later
