Page 89 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

I’m so happy.

I didn’t need him for today, but I really wanted him.

He looks around and sees that we have an audience. Morgan is standing next to me, along with Julia, the photographer, and a few other employees. They are wide-eyed as they take Tyler in, and that’s when I see the photographer lift her camera and take his picture.

“Tyler . . .” I start shaking my head.

He steps forward and cuts me off. “Lil, I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know there is more that needs to be said after our last conversation, and I promise it will be said later, but I’d like to believe that you know me well enough to know that I didn’t mean it. I got lost in my head, and I should have taken a moment to really think things through, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry.” He takes another step and completely ignores those around us. My heart swells at how he doesn’t care at all that we have an audience, and he isn’t too prideful not to say what he came here to say. “And no matter what is happening between us, good or bad, it’s important to me that you know, I will always show up for you. I’m so proud of you.”

My hair and makeup have been done, but it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t stop the tears if I tried. One by one, they roll down my face.

“I gave her your phone number. I forgot and I’m sorry.”

One corner of his mouth tugs up. “It doesn’t matter. It never did.”

Stretching his arm toward Morgan, he hands her the flowers and then gently wraps his hands around my face. “Please don’t cry,” he whispers. “My heart can’t take it,” he says as he wipes away my tears with his thumbs and lays his forehead against mine.

Every single cell in my body responds to his nearness. All the parts of me that felt just a little bit off today suddenly don’t. I feel a relief like I’ve never known.

“You didn’t call me.”

“I’m sorry. I was mad at myself. Embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, and then days passed, and I’m just so sorry.”

“I missed you,” I tell him, gazing up into my favorite pair of eyes and reaching for his waist so I can hold on to him too. My hands slide under his coat, and his body is so warm it’s radiating through the shirt. I needed this warmth. His warmth. “I really wanted you to be here.” More tears come out, and then all of a sudden, the pressure and anxiety of the last week breaks free. He folds me into his arms, and I openly but quietly cry.

As great as Morgan has been, she's not him at the end of the day. He’s my person, and I missed him so much. It’s been hard for me to grasp that this great big career move has been happening this week, and he hasn’t been a part of it. But now he is, and I feel like a weighted blanket has been wrapped around me that’s full of encouragement and support. I don’t feel as if I’m wandering aimlessly and just a slight breeze could blow me over.

“Well, I wanted to be here, so here I am.”

He smells so good. He feels so good. All of the “fake it till you make it” I’ve been putting out this week disappears as I breathe him in.

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles and pulls back a little so he can look down at me. One hand cups the back of my neck while the other keeps pressure on my lower back so our stomachs are touching.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean it.” There’s worry etched into the subtle lines of his face. The tiny ones around his eyes, the two slashes creasing between his brows, and the way he swallows, it’s as if he’s expecting a tongue-lashing from me or an argument, but I’m not the type to give one.

“I know you didn’t. At least I was praying you didn’t.” My fingertips dip under the waistband of his slacks.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and then his eyes twitch just before he turns his head and sneezes into his arm.

“Bless you,” I tell him, a smile crawling onto my face.

“It’s the flowers,” he tells me, sniffing.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers.” I grin up at him.

“Yes, I did. It’s your big day, and I love you,” he says, full of tenderness.

He loves me.

My eyes overflow again, and he lays his forehead back against mine.

“I love you so much,” he says. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for the things I said to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. At least not right now. He’s here, and that’s what is important to me.

“It does. And I want you to know I’ve burned the rules. All five of them. There are no more rules. You can throw as many parties as you want, fill the house with flowers, and cook all of the ground beef that your heart desires.”