Page 123 of Saddle to Sunup

I slip my hand around to the back of Oakley’s neck, kissing him while we’re still alone. It’s soft and simple, but his shoulders come down some. “You don’t have to do it,” I tell him.

“Are you kidding? Like I’d let you have all the fun on your own.” Oakley stands, holding out his hand. I grab on, and he tugs me to my feet. “Ready to fly?”

My chest squeezes tight. “With you? Always.”

It takes some time to get outfitted in the proper gear. Oakley, Wendy, and I are each matched with a tandem guide. We’re hooked in pairs before the plane leaves the ground, Wendy being strapped to Elyse. Oakley holds my hand as the engine roars, the small plane lifting into the air.

It feels surreal, flying up into the clouds. The ground stretches far and wide, a mixture of landscape that looks like a tiny toy replica from so high above. It’s loud, so no one speaks. But a tug on my hand has me looking Oakley’s way.

Clear goggles cover his eyes, a small, crooked smile on his face. I know that smile intimately. Excitement. Adventure. Love. I know every nuance of the blue-and-brown-painted eyes staring back at me. I know the sound of Oakley’s, “I love you,” even if I can’t hear it.

I mouth the words back, shifting my grip so it’s our pinkies clasped tight.

Oakley Beaumont always was the boy I flew through the clouds with, since the time we were young. Back when a kiss was a token, when pixie dust was so common it filled the very air, slanting through sunbeams and falling on the snow.

I haven’t stopped believing, I suppose. Believing I can fly. Believing that magic exists.

Because what else can you call love if not magic?

It’s there every day my heart beats alongside my husband’s.

And now, as we fall once again?

Oh, how we fly.

The End