I sigh happily in agreement.
“How long are we going to leave this arch up?”
I laugh. “Until the guests complain.”
This is our running joke whenever things get overwhelming or messy. Just leave it until the guests complain. No one everdoes, because the only time we open up for guests now is during the Dogwood Festival, and for the Christmas Carnival, when the whole town becomes a holiday wonderland. Other than that, we only use the carriage house for family who visit.
The song switches to another slow one by that band that Oliver and I both like.
“Ready to go in? Or can we finish out with one more song?” Oliver asks.
My feet are tired, but I’ll never say no to one more dance with my man.
My Oliver.
“One more,” I say.
And he kisses me like he’s kissed me a thousand times before, until the clouds roll in over the ridge and the moon is high. Until the sky is velvet black. Until the barred owl hoots in the tall trees. Soon enough we will go inside, and he will kiss me some more, like I know he’ll be kissing me when we’re old and gray.
He’s not going anywhere, and he proved it.
My man. My Oliver.
THE END
