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31
CLAY
Joyce Brothers said, “The best proof of love is trust.”
I know even if I tell Emma I am in love with her, she’ll still feel some level of unsurety because she thinks I don’t trust her, and I do. So this is what I’ve decided I need to focus on when I get to New York. I need to make her feel secure, seen, and heard.
Ash was right when he asked me if I was just going to sit back and watch him live his life while not living mine. I didn’t see it that way, but now I do. She and I can figure this out, I know we can, so as I throw my last bag in the truck and call for Moose, I have zero doubt I am making the right decision.
It’s time to go get my girl.
Mine.
Pulling away from the house, I smile at how early it is and how in ten hours I’ll be at her front door. It’s really not that long of a drive, and I chuckle to myself thinking this is the first of many times I’ll be making this trek from city to city.
The sun has risen enough that the world is visible, having just made an appearance over the eastern mountains, sending out bright streaks of sunlight. I pop the lid on my travel coffee cup and take a sip while it’s still hot.
Driving down the windy road around the lake, I’m almost to town when there’s an approaching small-sized SUV. With the curves, driving slow is necessary, and it’s because of this that I get a glimpse of the driver. The person is female, she has dark brown hair, and she’s wearing purple sunglasses. I’ve seen those sunglasses, and before my eyes have time to catch up with my brain, she passes. Then I’m stopping the truck in the middle of the road. The other driver stops too. In the rearview mirror, I see taillights and a New York license plate, and my heart starts racing.
She’s here?
She came to me?
With anxiety and hope pounding through my veins, I watch her pull her car off to the side of the road. I U-turn and pull up behind her. Facing this direction, the sun is glaring, but there’s no mistaking it’s my girl as she throws open the door. A foot not wearing any shoes but covered with a fuzzy purple sock sticks out. Her foot is followed by her leg, then both legs, and then her whole body.
Every nerve ending fires in me as I have a visceral reaction to seeing her, and my skin starts buzzing with the need to feel her, touch her, love her.
Following her lead, I step out of the truck and close the door behind me. Moments pass as we stare at each other and then slowly make our way toward each other.
“Hi,” she says nervously.
“What are you doing here?” I know it has to be for me, and I just want to hear her say it.
“I—” She looks at me then glances at our surroundings, and then she looks down at her feet. She rocks up on her toes, her thumb is twirling the ring on her finger hard, and then her head snaps up to mine. “I got you something.”
She turns, runs back to her car, reaches into the back seat, and pulls out a pink box. It looks like a cake box, and she walks back to me and holds her arms out. I see it’s a box from a place called Kelly’s Kupcakes.
“You got me cupcakes?” My brows rise in curiosity.
“Yes,” she says, letting out a deep heavy breath.
“Okay. Thank you.” I take the box from her and stare down at it.
“But they’re not just any cupcakes,” she says in a rush, and my eyes shift to find hers, only I can’t see them; they’re behind her glasses, and mine are too. I lower mine and tuck them into my neckline; she sees what I’m doing and does the same.
There she is. So beautiful.
“They’re my favorite,” she continues, “and I wanted to share them with you, because . . . well, you’re my favorite too.” She smiles shyly at me. “I know this might seem silly, but they are the best in the world, and they go amazing with a cup of coffee. I see you’re headed somewhere, but maybe when you’re free we could have a cup of coffee together?”
I’m her favorite.
I’ve never known joy like I do at this moment, and I have to swallow to contain all the emotions trying to break free.
“I don’t think they’re silly. You drove all the way here just to have a cup of coffee?”
“Yes. No.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Why is this so hard? Over the last ten hours I’ve practiced what I want to say to you, and now that I’m here, I forgot it all.”
“You forgot it all.” I can’t help the smile that tips my lips.
