“I’m intrigued about what’s in this basket. Did your mom help?”
“Really?” I side-eyed her, sounding insulted.
“I mean, it’s not that far-fetched to wonder. Your mom’s cooking is in a class of its own.”
“While there’s no denying that, you know from the firehouse I can cook. Don’t think I haven’t caught a moan cross your lips a few times.”
“In your dreams, mister.” She hit my chest in jest.
“Yes, exactly. How did you know?”
That wasn’t even the half of it.
“Lucky guess,” she surmised.
“Now, inquiring minds want to know. Have you ever dreamed of me?”
Please say yes.
“Did you pack any cookies in here?” She leaned forward and tried to sneak a peek in the picnic basket.
“Nice deflection,” I laughed, giving her a free pass, “but yes, of course.” I shifted my weight next to her, pulled out the charcuterie board from the basket, and started unwrapping everything I’d prepared.
“Wow, look at you!”
“It’s my first attempt at something like this, so try not to judge me too harshly.”
“Are you kidding me? Even your placement of each food group . . . I’m super impressed.”
“I’m happy you approve; I even surprised myself with the meat-shaped flowers!”
“Seriously, Jameson, it’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect.”
“Ah, far from it, I’d say.”
“No, we’re perfect for each other.” I tilted my head and stole a quick kiss, not allowing her a chance for rebuttal. “I also brought some sauvignon blanc; would you like a glass?”
“Yes, please! You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” Her smile lit up her whole face in delight.
“I had a vision and wanted everything to be perfect.” She deserved the world, and I wanted to prove I was the man to give it to her.
“Does it feel a bit weird to you that after butting heads for so long, being together like this now feels effortless?”
“I believe when two people are meant to be, it’s just a matter of timing. It wasn’t our time before.”
“You’ve always been a glass-half-full kind of guy, haven’t you?”
“Not always. I’ve had my moments from time to time, that’s for sure. Being a firefighter has hardened me over time, and I’d rather focus on the good things in life.”
She dipped her chin and stared down at the blanket. I knew she understood the unspoken truths beyond both our professions. Our line of work was unpredictable. Some days were both physically and emotionally draining, while others were equally rewarding, knowing we had saved a life.
“Let’s make a toast.” I handed her the stemless wine glass. “To new beginnings and trusting the journey in life.”
“To new beginnings and trusting the journey,” she repeated.
Clink.
