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“Yes, it is,” he says. He looks away, but when his eyes return to mine, he smiles.
“My life was off-kilter, but you got me back on track. I was dropping toothbrushes in toilets and missing my subway stop, and you loved me!”
By his expression, I’m assuming he’s trying to interpret my ramblings. “Off-kilter? Charlie, what are you talking about?”
“Do you still love me?” I ask.
He ponders the question but not for long. Looking shy, he meets my eyes and whispers, “Yes.”
“I love you, too.” The words escape me, loud and happy, as I squeeze his hand.
“You do?”
“Yes! You’re my everything, too.”
His bright eyes melt me as he quickly pulls me against him. Rubbing the back of his hand gently across my cheek, he repeats barely above a whisper, “My everything.” His eyes stay on me as his hand slips to the back of my head. “I want to kiss you.”
“I want that, too. I know I’m laying all this on you at once, but I want you to kiss me so very much.”
“If I kiss you, this will be real. No more running.”
I lean into him, getting even closer because this is it. This is when our future begins. “It was always real. I was just too blind to see it.”
His fingers weave into the back of my hair as he draws me forward. “This is your last out. Are you sure?” he asks. His minty breath fans across my face.
“Positive. Now, seal it with a kiss.” I stare straight into his eyes so he can see how much I want this, how much I’m ready for us to begin. He leans in, closing his eyes, but I stop him abruptly. “Wait!”
He jerks back, startled. Confusion and sadness appear.
“I want to kiss you, but I have a cold,” I say. “I don’t want to get you sick.”
He chuckles. “A cold couldn’t keep me from kissing you right now.” Grabbing me, he kisses me with every bit of passion and every ounce of need he possesses. The kiss is intense, and our lips aren’t tentative. This kiss is comforting yet makes me tingle down to my toes, like we were always meant to do this.
Leaning back, he smiles proudly. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
I perk up even more. “I like the sound of that.”
Laughing, he takes my hand again and leads me to the car. “I see you dressed up for my book launch.” I playfully punch his arm, and he feigns pain where my fist lands. “You’ve still got a mean right jab, too. Have you been working out?”
“I’ve had some time on my hands.”
We both slide into the back of the car, holding hands, fingers entwined and bonded. I’m smiling so big because this is different. This is us, the same us as before, but better. This is us, knowing what we’re getting into and going into it with open eyes and open hearts. This is love. I will cherish this. I will cherish us because everything that’s happened in our lives has led us to this true love—friends, lovers, everything, the whole heart and soul kind of love. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“Better believe it.” He’s confident. “You know, Ms. Barrow, now that I have your love and your full undivided attention, I may never let you go.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. A giggle escapes because I’m a girl and I’m in love, and though it’s not the first time, I know it will be the last. I kiss him because I can, and then I straddle him in the back of the Town Car for that same reason.
I hold his face and kiss him all over—his eyelids, nose, forehead, cheeks, and his wonderfully welcoming lips.
Leaning back to look into his happy blue eyes, I say, “Oh, and I still want my book signed.”
“I think I might be able to do that for you.” He rubs my cheek again. “I’m craving cupcakes.”
I giggle. “I might be able to help you out there.” I sigh, happy. “I’m so glad I finally came to my senses, but you, you knew all along. You wrote our love story. You knew we were always meant to be, didn’t you?”
He kisses me long and slow, then leans back, resting his head on the back of the seat while looking at me with that smuggy smile I love so much. He easily replies, “Naturally, Charlie.”
Epilogue
Charlie A.
I’ve often wondered over the past three years what would have happened if Jim hadn’t cheated on Charlie. Would they have gotten back together if he hadn’t died? Would they have gotten married and had children?
I realize these thoughts cross my mind because I love her so much. My life wouldn’t be what it is if she wasn’t in it. Without her, I wouldn’t be a married man, a successful writer of love stories, or a man determined to start a family because the world needs more of her in it.
