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“That’s for you to decide. But it’s what I hope for. That I’ll do well enough with my life that when my story is told or read …” I drawl and he laughs. “That people will feel something.” I sigh and his arms tighten around me.
“If you really want to make a difference, you don’t have to chase horizons; just look around you and do something that calls you,” I tell him.
I touch the pendant around my neck. “This necklace?” I touch the small pendant at my throat.
“Yeah. I like to think of it as your fishing hook,” he teases and I smile.
“It was the very first thing I bought for myself when I won that case. It’s a reminder that I may just be a drop in the bucket, but it only takes one drop to overflow it. Little old me … I did something. We all can,” I say.
We stand there quietly for a few minutes. “I’ll get off my soapbox now,” I say sheepishly.
“I like the way you look up there,” he says quickly and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“That’s because you’ve only had one weekend of it,” I joke.
“I think if I’d had any more, I’d be trying to find a way to keep you right where you are for as long as I could,” he murmurs in my ear. And my heart that’s been tripping all weekend finally gives up the ghost and falls.
SURE THING
CONFIDENCE
ONE MONTH LATER
“You miss me?” I murmur softly as soon as the call connects.
“Too much.” The words, enveloped in Hayes’s fatigue-roughened voice, deliver a delicious jolt to my heart.
“I miss you, too,” I say and hug my pillow tightly to my chest and inhale the lingering scent of him on it.
“I’ll be back next week, and I think I can come up on Thursday, so we’ll have an extra day.”
I feel a pang of guilt that he’s the one doing all the traveling.
“I can’t wait until I can come and see you …” I start and then trail off because I know what he’s going to say. This is our constant argument.
“I can’t wait for that either. Say the word. I’ll make it happen,” he says and a yawn escapes.
“Do you want me to get us a hotel in Memphis next time?” I ask him and do the math in my head really quickly. I should be able to swing it even after I pay Mama’s rent for the month.
“No, I like staying at your place,” he says. He sounds sincere. But I’ve seen pictures of the house Hayes grew up in, in Houston and the villa he lived in with his aunt in Italy. Our double-wide is clean and cozy, but it’s a huge step down in terms of the luxury he must be used to.
“My bed is so small. Don’t you want a weekend without your feet hanging off the edge?” I ask.
“Nope. That small bed means you can’t roll away in the middle of the night. In fact, when we get a b
ed, I think we should make sure it’s not too big,” he jokes.
“We’re getting a bed?”
“Yeah. We are. One day. And in the meantime, I’ve never slept better than I do in yours. With you beside me.” My heart is … it’s going wild. Every word he says is kryptonite. I’m falling so hard for him. He talks about the future like it’s a given.
“You sound so sure.”
“I am. I’d lay good odds on us,” he says easily.
“I would, too.” I sigh. I’m so happy, it’s surreal. We’re such an unlikely pair. Our paths should never have crossed. But here were are. There’s something really right about us together. His visits have been so easy. Not a moment of awkwardness. My mother loves him. The people he’s met in town think he’s some sort of rock star and he’s nothing but gracious and patient with their questions about what he does. He brought Tripp, my neighbor’s nine-year-old, a new fishing rod this weekend because he overheard him talking about his being broken last time we were down at Harps for groceries. He’s brought my mama every book on Abraham Lincoln he can get his hands on, and they sit and talk outside together every night after dinner.
“Your mother home?” he asks.
