The Last Guy

You look so peaceful I didn’t wake you. See you at work.

Love, Cade.

It’s brief, but it’s all my brain can come up with.

Like Chas, I’m nervous and need some time to process what I’m doing.

I get to work, and the day drags by until Stone shows up around eleven.

By five thirty, I’m running from Vicky’s office and texting Kevin at the same time. It’s almost time for a huge story we’ve all been working on.

“Wait.” I grab Stone’s hand just before we take our chairs behind the modern-looking chrome and wood desk.

The cameraperson starts the countdown—sixty seconds until we’re live.

I study her intently. She’s wearing a royal blue pencil skirt and a V-neck sweater in a lighter color that’s soft and fuzzy.

“What’s up?” she asks.

I rub the back of my neck, searching for the right words. There are so many things I could say . . .

“Cade?” She tilts her chin and studies me. “What are you thinking?”

“Truthfully?” My gaze skates down her form. “How fucking great you’d look barefoot and pregnant.”

That wasn’t what I meant to say.

She blushes and smiles up at me. “That can be arranged.”

I touch her face, my thumb sweeping across her cheek as my hand cups her nape. I’m dying to kiss her.

Twenty seconds.

The cameraperson is waving frantically at us, but I don’t give a shit.

I gather myself, taking deep breaths.

“Cade?”

The words come out in a rush. “I want you to know that since I met you, I dig The Little Mermaid. Ariel and Eric have a great love story. In fact, you’re my mermaid. I love Taco Bell because of you, which is saying a fucking lot because it’s not good for you, and we all know it’s not a hundred percent beef. I love jogging in the park with you. I love how you fall asleep, and your arm automatically curls around me. I love cooking for you.” I pause. “I never thought I’d be this fucking consumed with a person every second—”

“Five seconds, people! I can’t have empty seats!” Vicky calls, her voice a bit shrill. Matt is already seated, waiting patiently.

Stone is transfixed by my words and reaches up and kisses me on the cheek. “Ah, Star-Lord, I love you so much. Now let’s go do the news.”

I swallow, nod, and guide her to her seat. She’s watching me the entire time, a bemused but baffled expression on her face. I take my seat on the other side of Matt.

The show’s upbeat and peppy music comes on, and the camera is pointed straight at Matt as he reads from the teleprompter. He takes the first headline about a shooting while Stone jumps in with a story about a robbery of a local pharmacy. It’s a normal news day.

“And now to Cade Hill for a rundown of the college games this weekend,” Stone is saying.

The camera swivels at me, and I dig fucking deep to keep cool.

Put your game face on and stay calm.

I shoot a cocky grin at the camera. “College football can wait a few minutes, folks. First, here at KHOT, we’d like to celebrate an anniversary that’s very special to us. It’s been exactly a year since our very own Rebecca Fieldstone was promoted to anchor. Last month she was voted Favorite Anchor by the Houston Herald. It’s a big day for her, and well”—I smile sheepishly and glance over at her—“we prepared a little surprise to commemorate how much the viewers and the staff at KHOT love her.”

The view switches to film Kevin has spent the last two weeks shooting.

The first shot is of Petal wearing a sparkly tiara and a purple fluffy dress. “Happy anniversary, Miss. Fieldstone. I’m glad you’re not on commercials anymore. Remember to read To Kill a Mockingbird!”

The next shot is of Albert from the children’s zoo holding Pixie. “Say hi to the lady who made you famous on the internet,” Albert tells Pixie. I hear Stone stifle a groan as Pixie reaches up and snatches his hat off his head then puts it on her own.

Phil and Sissy show up on screen. They’re standing in front of Paulette’s, the restaurant where we’d had our dates. “Thank you for introducing us, Rebecca!” Sissy calls. “We’re engaged!”

Phil does a weird thing with his hands. “Qapla!”

Stone giggles and gives me a long look as the film rolls. “Did you come up with this?” she whispers.

I nod.

Her face softens and she gives me a look—that look—the one that tells me she loves me.

Then Trent and Chas take over the screen. They’re standing arm-in-arm outside, just at the corner of the Pussycat Club. Thankfully Kevin had edited out the racy marquee.

There are other quick shots of people we work with blowing kisses and wishing her well—Vicky, Kevin, the beat reporters, my mom and dad.

Then, there’s a montage of photos of us . . . at Christmas . . . in Hawaii. It’s pretty fucking good, and emotion wells up in my chest.

It fades, and the entire news crew erupts in applause. With her eyes misty, she’s composing herself just as I stand and walk around the front of the desk to her side. I offer my hand and she takes it, her eyes looking around the room trying to figure out what’s going on. I lead her a few feet away as the camera follows us. I get down on one knee.

She gasps as I pull out the velvet box Chas had delivered. I open it to reveal a three carat round diamond with an emerald nestled on each side to match her eyes.

I gaze up at her. “Rebecca Leigh Fieldstone, I love you. You brighten everything, and I can’t imagine a day without you. Will you be the last girl for me and be mine forever?”

A tremulous smile spreads across her face. “Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes!”

I stand, and we kiss as the camera rolls.

Everything is full circle.

She’s mine.

I’m hers.

Her last guy.

Forever.

THE END.