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18
ARIA
The rumble of Will’s motorcycle brought an instant smile to my face. After his conversation with Paul had gone well last night, we’d all decided to have dinner at my parents’ house tonight. The wedding was in three days, so I was fairly certain that was all we’d talk about, but that might be a good thing. It would give everyone a topic outside of the dynamic change.
I looked around my small cottage, nodding when everything looked to be in order. I didn’t know if he was coming in or if we’d head straight to my parents’ house for dinner, but I’d put a little extra effort into making it look nice and homey, just in case.
It was probably silly, but I’d been doing that forever. Whenever Will had been over—so almost every day—I’d always had my room perfectly staged. If he happened to poke his head in, I wanted everything to be just right. Looking back, he probably didn’t care about the condition of my room in the slightest. But there was something about him that made me want to seem mature and put together.
The purr from the bike cut off with a click, and I dashed for my purse on the counter. Taking one last look in the country chic mirror above my dining room table, I crossed to the door and opened it, a wide smile on my face. He walked up my front steps looking like a snack in a black motorcycle jacket over a black polo shirt and dark wash jeans.
“Hey, you. New jacket?”
He looked down at it with a chuckle. “Yeah, I figured it went with the bike. Prevents road rash and all that.”
“So, this is a practical choice? Or are you going for the bad-boy look? Because I have to be honest, you pull it off pretty well.”
This made a full-blown laugh pop out of him, and he shook his head. “It wasn’t intentional. If anything, I feel like I’ve avoided that look on purpose my whole life.”
“Yeah, you were much more of a classic clean-cut-jock-turned-Marine than a bad boy.”
“Didn’t want people to confuse me for another Paxton, I guess.”
I pressed my lips together. “Yeah. Makes sense. Well, I like it.”
He slowly ascended the stairs with a quirked brow. “You do, huh?”
“Yes.”
When he reached me, he put his hands on either side of my face and gently touched his lips to mine. “Well then, if you like it, it was intentional.”
I smiled against his lips, then frowned when he pulled back too soon. “What’s wrong?”
“What happens when I get orders, Aria?”
The question hung in the air between us for several beats while I wrapped my head around its meaning. Biting my lip, I stepped over to one of the two Adirondack chairs on my front porch. He meandered over and hoisted himself up on the railing of my porch, his strong arms braced on the wooden rail beneath him.
“What happens when you get orders…” I repeated his question, letting my words trail off rather than end on a higher note. It wasn’t a question back to him, I was simply stating the problem so I could dissect it and figure it out. Problem-solving was my life. If something unexpected came up on a wedding day, worried brides looked to me for help. I’m the one who spins it, fixes it, changes it, or solves it. I can do the same thing here.
Will watched me in silence while I chewed on the issue. Firstly, I was shocked we hadn’t already thought about this. It seemed so obvious now. Will and I hadn’t been permanent fixtures in each other’s lives since he left for the Marines, so every time he came to town, it was easy to ignore the feelings that rose up within me. As soon as his leave was over, he’d be gone, so why bother?
But once he’d moved back last year, there was an illusion of permanence that made me forget it was only temporary. They might call it a permanent change of station, but in the Marines, that still only meant three years usually. And Will only had about two and change left before he’d have to leave.
How did I feel about that? In all the times I’d fantasized about a life with Will, I’d pictured him here with me. I’d pictured myself continuing to plan weddings for others right here at the B&B, but I’d finally have my own happiness, too. And that was where the logistics ended. I’d never once considered leaving to go join him at a duty station or him having to get out. It was such an unattainable fantasy in my mind that I didn’t need to let it get practical.
“If I can snag orders to Camp Lejeune, that’s only five hours away,” he said quietly. “Then you can stay here, and I’ll come home on the weekends.”
We both looked around the B&B grounds beyond my dimly lit porch. Lightning bugs blinked in the fading light, and all at once, I had visions of some of the weddings I’d put together in that space. They flashed before my eyes, one after the other, a slideshow of flowers and tables and first dances. A kaleidoscope of gentle pale, bright neon, simple black, or vibrant primary-colored bridesmaid gowns. I’d planned weddings for hundreds of couples, and despite consistently striking out in love because I was hung up on my brother’s best friend, I’d been truly happy here.
“Wherever you go, I’ll go, Will.” My voice was low, but steady. I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.
He didn’t even bother to hide the sheer shock that my declaration caused. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes flared. He froze in place for a beat, then snapped out of it, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“What’s the alternative? You leave me again?”
This brought him up short. “I didn’t…”
When his words trailed off, I looked away. “But you did. Now that I know how you felt, you can’t tell me it didn’t factor into you wanting to get out of here.”
