“She said you’re head over heels in love with me and there’s nothing I could do to make you love me less.”
“And she’s one hundred percent right.”
“Jackson, you say that now.”
“Are you trying to talk yourself out of this? What’s happening here?” His face is scrunched.
“No, I’m not.” He looks concerned. “I’m not, Jackson, I swear. God, even trying to tell you all this, I’m making things worse.”
“You have to talk to me. This won’t work,wewon’t work unless you fill me in on every thought in that pretty head of yours.”
“That’s what mom said, too.” I smile thinking of mom. “We’re only as strong as we allow ourselves to be together. I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to let you down. I want to be the perfect wife for you. I want to make tomorrow perfect for you. And it’s just not happening.”
I know I sound crazy. I know I sound like a whiny spoiled brat. But Jackson does what Jackson always does best – uses his words, dirty and sweet, to make everything alright.
“You know what is happening? I’m staying right here. I’m going to be in your face for life, baby girl.” He punctuates the word life and leans down, so we are eye to eye. “When you can’t do it, I can. When you’re feeling low, I’m stepping up to take care of things. Just like you’ve done for me. When I just about crashed and burned, you came and built me up.” He kisses me. “And yes, I want kids. Lots of them.” His eyes twinkle. “Matter of fact, we should get to work on that.”
I smirk but brush him off. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for doubting you. Doubting me. doubting us.” I shrug not really having a better answer. “I’ve been picturing you and I married for years Jackson, I mean, I used to scribble my name and your name in little hearts in all of my 7th grade notebooks! I built us up in my head so much it felt like we peaked, and I was just going to tumble down now.”
“You know, you were making me nervous for a minute there. I thought all your worries were that you didn’t want to finish this out with me. I even went to Adam!” he fakes horror.
“You did? Oh my god did he take that opportunity to tell you to get lost!” I snicker.
“No, he actually told me he’s glad it’s me.”
I furrow my brows.
“He’s glad it’s me that gets to love you, babe. It’s you and me, forever and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure we stick it out for the long run. He knows that. Everyone knows that. There’s nothing to fail here, we always win.” I hug him and he returns it, squeezing me tighter.
I glance up to his face and ask cautiously, “Can you tell me where we’re getting married yet?”
“I guess I should let you in on the secret, so you know whereto meet me, huh?”
“Yea, I mean, it would help if the bride knew where to go.”
He studies me for a moment. “Let me tell you a story.” He walks me out of the bathroom then gathers me close as we sit on the bed. “When I was eight years old, I met a kid in my class. The teacher put us at neighboring desks so there was no choice but to talk to one another. We found out we liked the same things, pizza, horror movies and football. We went out at lunch and began throwing the ball to each other. Then it became a habit. A habit that lasted for years after that.”
“When I was fourteen, me and that same kid made the varsity football team together. We were the youngest on the team and were scared to death. But we had each other. Our very first game, his family showed up and tagging along was an annoying brunette.” I punch him. “But she kept my sister busy and out of my hair, so I was happy.”
“With each passing year, that brunette showed up at every game, and with every passing game, she became more beautiful to me. I’ll never forget the night I noticed her as more than my sister’s friend, or my best friend’s little sister. And it hurt. Trust me when I say it physically hurt, you don’t ever want a hard-on while wearing a cup.”
“Jackson!”
Laughing, “What? It’s the truth. Anyway, it was the first game of the season, she was sitting at the fifty-yard line and in my head, I said, 'I'm going to marry her.’
“You did not!”
“Ok, I didn’t. I said I’m going to give that girl the fuck of her life.”
“Gage!”
He cups my face with his hands, pulling me close and giving me a kiss on the nose, then looks me in the eye. “On that football field is where I found the love of my life. And on that football field is where I’m going to marry her.”
As if on cue, tears run from my eyes. My hands get clammy and my heart speeds. “We’re getting married on the field?” I choke out in question.
“We are.” It’s a statement. And I love the authority behind it. He knows me better than I know myself. If he was to suggest this three weeks ago, I would have said hell no. I would have said a real wedding takes place in a hall. A real wedding has timelines and rules and criteria that has to be met. But a real wedding is anything we want it to be.
And a real marriage is what we’re going to celebrate.
