Eleven years ago today, Wyatt Dawson built up the courage to talk to me at a college party, and we haven’t stopped talking since.Eleven years.My god.In so many ways, it felt like a lifetime ago, yet somehow, it also felt like it was just yesterday when the awkwardly adorable, freshly twenty-one-year-old boy tripped over his own feet in his determination to speak with me, landing headfirst in my crotch.
A smile tugged at my mouth as the memory replayed in my head.
He’d looked up at me, cheeks blazing red, dark brown hair falling over his forehead, golden eyes staring at me.“I swear I’m not usually this smooth.”
Any other guy, I would have laughed and pushed off me, but Wyatt… I brushed his hair back, noticing the natural thick waves, and smiled.“That’s a shame,” I’d said.“It’s the best approach I’ve ever had.”
I swear I fell in love with him right then, and if it wasn’t at that moment, it was in the conversations we had that went until the sun came up.We haven’t been apart since.Now we were celebrating eleven years together.
I glanced down at the red dress I had worn to a friend’s wedding—that Wyatt had stripped me out of as soon as our hotel room door shut—and ran a hand over the satin.Tonight felt… different.
An anxious flutter moved through my stomach, and a whisper of hope I kept shoving down resurfaced.
Eleven years.
Long enough for everyone to assume we’d be the next Grasso wedding.Long enough for me to start wanting things I had convinced myself I didn’t need.
A ring.A promise.A day in a white dress when we stood in front of our family and friends, and he told the world I was it for him.Always and forever.
Marriage was a “social construct that, almost half the time, ended in divorce”—a statistic I couldn’t argue.Wyatt had always said we didn’t need marriage.
But suddenly, after watching all my closest friends marry, I did.
And tonight, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was finally ready to give it to me.
We had many anniversary celebrations over our eleven years, but they usually revolved around our favorite takeout, a pint of ice cream, and a movie.Tonight, he specifically requested I wear a fancy dress and meet him in the barn at my family’s vineyard.It was a place that had hosted many engagements, bridal showers, and weddings over the years.
My heart thudded against my chest as I stepped toward the big double doors.Candlelight spilled out of the cracks in the wood.I took an unsteady breath, then shook the nerves away.This was Wyatt.My Wyatt.I had no reason to be nervous.
I pushed open the doors, the familiar scent of oak surrounding me.Twinkling lights hung from the rafters, casting a soft glow over the long wooden table set for two.A single pink rose, my favorite, lay across my place setting.
In the corner, Wyatt stood, handsome as ever, with his dark, wavy hair falling over his forehead.Gray slacks covered his legs, and a crisp white dress shirt was rolled to his elbows, revealing his tan from our friend’s Miami wedding.
He glanced up, greeting me with that crooked grin that had done me in the first time we met.
God, I loved him.
He let out a soft whistle.“Wowzer.”
“Not so bad yourself.”I hurried over and threw my arms around his neck, settling into his familiar and calming warmth.
“Happy anniversary, gorgeous,” he said, his breath skating across my ear, spreading goosebumps down my neck to my spine.
After all this time, he still had that effect on me.
I closed my eyes, letting his heat soak into me, inhaling the cologne I bought him for Christmas.He kissed the top of my head like he always did.His hand rested on the low dip of the satin, fingers caressing just beneath the material.
“Happy anniversary,” I said.
He pulled back, a hint of nerves in his golden eyes, but he quickly put on a smile and gestured to the table.“I hope you’re hungry.I pulled out all the stops.Five courses of pure indulgence, wine pairings for each, including a dessert wine Franc has just tapped and no one has tried yet, and a surprise.”
My heart slammed into my chest, giddy excitement flooding through me.“A surprise?”I said, unable to keep the excitement out of my tone.
“I know you hate surprises, but when the occasion calls for one, you know I’m going to deliver.”
My pulse skittered as I took a seat and he poured us each a small glass of Sauvignon Blanc.He held the glass up, and I followed suit, tilting my head and waiting for his toast.
“To us.To eleven years of you putting up with my terrible jokes, my inability to get my socks in the hamper, and my disastrous attempts at folding a fitted sheet, and the fact that you are still the best thing that ever happened to me.”
