Wasted Words by Staci Hart
Cam shook her head. “That guy is a freaking money maker. Look at him talk to that girl. He cleans up.”
I laughed. “The man’s got skills. He’ll have his green card in no time at that rate.”
She laughed and slipped her arm around my waist, looking over at Bayleigh and Martin with a sigh. “I’m so happy for them.”
“Me too.”
“I still feel bad about how all that went down.”
“Well, you should. You were a huge dick about it.”
She made a face and pinched my side. “Ha, ha.”
I chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “It all worked out. Everything did.”
“It sure did.” She smiled up at me. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year.”
“Me neither. I’m surprised you haven’t left me yet.”
She snickered. “Who would have thought I would have been more of a flight risk than you were?”
I squeezed her. “Me.”
She smiled, lifting up on her tiptoes, and I bent to kiss her gently before she pulled me through the crowd.
The year had been eventful. I’d signed Darryl and gone through my first off season — he’d accepted a contract with the 49ers, and I’d been there with him every step of the way. Cam had put in her time, working her ass off at Wasted Words, and it had become a staple of the neighborhood, singles night still a success, every time. And I still went, only for her.
We’d spent every holiday in the Midwest, bouncing between Walnut and Lincoln, our parents sometimes traveling so we could holiday all together. The last time I saw her dad, on Labor Day, I’d asked him for her hand.
He’d smiled, eyes glistening behind his glasses, and clapped me on the shoulder, telling me that he’d always wanted a son. Telling me he’d always wanted to see Cam as happy as she was with me.
The ring was stashed in a pair of house shoes, under a stack of sweaters in my closet. The plan was firmly in place, our trip to Lincoln for homecoming booked, her parents set to be there with us, and the band already had the sheet music for “Crazy He Calls Me.” All I needed was for time to speed up and for her to say yes.
Her tiny hand was in mine as we made the rounds, talking to everyone, but hanging mostly by Bayleigh and Martin. I’d never seen Martin so happy, not in all the years I’d known him. The two of them had been inseparable ever since that fateful night of bowling. And Cam and I had been inseparable since the band played “Bust a Move.”
She’d kept her promise. She hadn’t run, hadn’t worried, just let it go, just like she said she would. And we’d been perfectly happy ever since. No more doubt. No more wondering. Just Cam and me, burning together.
The night wound to a close, and everyone trickled out, Bayleigh and Martin last. There were hugs and congratulations, plans and promises discussed — Cam and I were both in the wedding party — and then, they were gone too.
We stood in front of the doors, the city on the other side, shelves and aisles of books behind us, and I looked down at her as she looked up, our eyes meeting for a long moment, smiles gentle and full of forever. And when we kissed, I knew our forever had already begun.