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The first thing I notice is a huge, beautiful bouquet of blue hydrangeas and lavender roses in a crystal vase on the table.
“Those are gorgeous!” I exclaim.
“They’re for you,” Arden replies softly.
I slide my hand out of his as I step forward to lean over and smell the flowers. “Nice. I love them.” I turn back to him. “Thank you.”
He nods to the bouquet. “There’s a card in there too. You might want to take a look at it.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
Turning back, I slide the little envelope out of the plastic holder it’s attached to and take out the card. I’m expecting just some sweet words from Arden, but I immediately wonder why it feels heavy.
Turning it over, I then see that there’s a key attached to the card.
Wait. I check it over more closely.
It’s definitely the key to Arden’s house that was once in my possession.
Turning to him, I say, “Aww, you’re giving me back the key to your house. So that’s what the flowers are all about.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “There’s more to it than that.”
“There is?” I check the card again, but there’s nothing on it but the key. No words or anything like that.
Arden steps closer and places his hands on my hips. “Willow,” he begins, “I’m not fancy with words, and that’s one reason why I didn’t write anything on the card. But it’s more than just that. I want to look into your eyes when I ask you to please move in with me. That’s what the picture of my house and the key is all about. Live with me here, babe. I don’t want you in some apartment miles away. I love you, and I want you by my side.” He raises one brow. “So, what do you say?”
I am so beyond happy and elated that I throw my arms around him and exclaim, “Yes, yes, and yes! I was actually hoping you’d ask me to move in with you.”
Leaning back, he looks surprised. “You were?”
I nod and smile. “Yes, silly man. I sure was.”
Now he’s smiling too. “Well, then I guess we were always on the same page, eh?”
“We were.” I laugh, and then I tell him, “I love you, Arden Troy. And now”—I bump and grind into him playfully—“I think it’s time for me to show you just how much.”
Pulling me in even closer, he rasps, “Fuck. That sounds good to me.”
Thunder rolls and booms as we make our way upstairs, the storm rolling in.
In the bedroom, as we stand face-to-face at the foot of the bed and undress each other, lightning illuminates the darkened room.
As rain begins to fall, I do what I promised—I show Arden just how much I love him.
Then, because fair is fair, he shows me how much he loves me.
And all the while, the rain pouring down on a roof we now share washes away any lingering doubts either of us may have had about just how committed we are to each other.
Yes, Arden is my present and my future.
And I am his.
Arden
Life is good.
No, life is great.
