in a vise grip and sobbing all over me again,” she joked, but I didn’t miss the underlying stress in her voice.
She and her parents had been working on their relationship since the not-wedding day, but I knew she was still far from forgiving and forgetting.
“And I said goodbye to Annie, Travis, and baby Bethany earlier this week.”
“I bet they’re all going to miss you.”
“They will,” she agreed. “And I’ll miss all of them. But, I’m ready.” A genuine smile bloomed on my favorite strawberry smoothie lips, then. “This is it, isn’t it? I’m going. I’m really going.”
I returned her smile. “You’re really going, Legs.” I pulled her closer, sweeping her hair from her face before lowering my voice to a whisper. “I am so proud of you.”
My fingertips found her chin, and I tilted it up, pressing my lips to hers. It was a kiss I never wanted to end, one that was slow and easy and felt like the most natural thing in the world. That’s how it had been for us since that night in the treehouse — effortless.
“Don’t find another girl while I’m gone,” she said when we finally broke the kiss.
“Yeah, right. More like you finding a hot AmeriCorps hippie with long hair and hemp clothes.”
She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re amazing.” I framed her face, kissing her again. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s see you soon. Okay?”
Her eyes glossed again. “Okay,” she whispered.
I could have held her forever, kissed her over and over and over until she missed her check-in time for her new job in Utah. But, I forced a heavy sigh, breaking away from her hold and opening the driver side door for her to climb inside. Once she was seated, she rolled the window down, leaning out of it and pulling my mouth to hers once more.
“Woman,” I chuckled between kisses. “Go. Now. You’ve got a long drive to Kansas City and it’s already noon. I don’t want you driving when you’re tired tonight.”
She sighed, pulling back and pressing her forehead to mine. “Okay. Okay. I’m going.” She ran her hand over my jaw, like she was memorizing my stubble. “I’ll call you when I stop for gas and food.”
“And I’ll call you every morning to remind you how much I love you.”
She smiled at that. “You better.”
With one last, longing kiss, she let me go, and I stepped back, sliding my hands in my pockets as she fired the car up. She checked the directions on her GPS, set her phone on the dash, and waved at me with tears in her eyes before pulling out of Mom’s driveway.
I watched her take the left, watched her stop at the stop sign down the road, watched her take the left that led out of town. And when I couldn’t see her taillights anymore and she was really gone, I let the first tear fall.
I cried because I’d miss her. I cried because I’d never wanted to let someone go as much as I’d wanted to keep them forever. But I didn’t cry because I was sad.
I cried because I was thankful.
I was thankful I could finally show her what I’d wanted to all along — that she could be in love and be loved while she had a life and dreams of her own. I was thankful for the two-week vacation I had coming up in a month so I could fly to Utah and spend Christmas with her. I was thankful for my family inside the house behind me, for the group I had to support me while Ruby Grace was gone.
And more than anything, I was thankful I’d found the woman I was sure didn’t exist.
More than a thousand miles couldn’t separate us — not really. She was still here with me, and I knew she took me with her, too.
For now, I wiped my tears and headed back inside to celebrate Thanksgiving with football and leftovers and time with my family. After all, I had one little brother stressed over his new trainee at work and the other holed up in his room over a girl we all knew was trouble.
I was needed in Stratford, and she was needed in Salt Lake.
So, I counted down the days until she’d be in my arms again, until she’d be back in Stratford, until we’d make our plans for where we’d go next.
Until I’d get down on one knee and give her the ring stashed in my bedside dresser drawer.