by Becky Monson
“Chase,” I say when I’m just ten feet away from him.
He looks up and his lips pull up into a big smile. A grand one. It’s a sight to behold. He’s a sight to behold. And he’s really here, standing next to my car.
I run the last few feet and stop just in front of him.
“You’re here,” I say, still not fully believing it. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be in London.”
“Changed my flight,” he says, his smile morphing into that half-grin I love so much.
He takes a step toward me, so we’re now just inches away from each other. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. So I changed my flight, and here I am.”
I don’t know what to say; all I can do is stare at him.
“I’m sorry for … everything,” he says. “You were right about me, about what I was doing. I never realized how bad I was at feeling things. I’m working on it.”
“Your texts,” I say.
“Cheesy, right?”
I tilt my head, looking up at him. “I was going to say that you’re a copycat.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.” He smiles.
“I’m sorry too,” I say.
He scrunches his brow. “Why are you sorry?”
“You were right. I was also avoiding things. With the jump.”
“But you did it?”
“I did,” I say, smiling and gesturing toward my jumpsuit. I’m sure I look windblown and my face is a little puffy from all the crying.
“How did it feel?”
I feel the tears prick behind my eyes. “It felt … amazing.”
Chase wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. I bury my face in his chest, the tears flowing once again. I feel him kiss the top of my head.
I pull my face back so I can see him, still not believing he’s here. He reaches up and rubs one of my tears away with his thumb.
“Did you mean what you said … in your text?”
He smiles. “I did. Every word.”
“Good,” I say. “Because I’m falling for you too.”
Chase doesn’t hesitate; his lips find mine. There’s no precursor, no heated glance, no eyes searching my face beforehand. No tiptoeing or testing the waters. It’s his lips on mine, and it’s full of hunger, and wanting, and needing. It’s all the many things we want to say but aren’t ready to say yet. And I feel it all as his mouth parts mine and the kiss deepens.
We are all hands and lips and tongues up against my car. And it’s, hands down, the best kiss I’ve ever had. The most passionate kiss I’ve ever felt. I’m not falling for Chase—I’ve already fallen.
The kisses start to change into something more slow and tender, and then Chase pulls his head back and leans his forehead against mine. We’re both out of breath, both feeling the heat from this midmorning desert air.
“That was …”
“Yeah,” I finish. There are no words, really.
He pulls away and looks at me. I smile at him and I know: this is it. He is it. All I’ve ever wanted and needed. The stranger who was on the other end of my texts. This man. Chase.
I think he feels it, too, because now we’re both smiling, and hugging, and kissing, and laughing.
It’s the best feeling in the world.
Epilogue
May
Chase: London is boring without you
Maggie: Phoenix is even more boring. I didn’t think it was possible.
June
Chase: Two weeks until you get here. Can’t wait.
Maggie: Me either. Saw Oscar today. He told me to tell you hi and that he likes me better than you.
July
Maggie: Phoenix is a million degrees. I should have never left London. I miss you so much.
Chase: I’m sorry … who is this?
August
Chase: This meeting could be the end of me. You can have Oscar if something happens.
Maggie: Yes! I have this in writing. This would stand up in court, right?
September
Maggie: Next week!! I can’t wait.
Chase: What’s next week? Oh, right. Bad news. I’ll be in Phoenix, but Oscar has already filled up my schedule with belly scratches, walks, and Frisbee throwing. Sorry.
October
Chase: That was a sexy picture—can you send me more?
Maggie: The one of my shoe? Or the blurry one of my arm? Avery sends her love.
November
Chase: Two more days
Maggie: Oh, right. This is awkward. I should probably tell you now that I’ve met someone else. His name is Oscar. We’re running away together. I didn’t want to tell you like this.
Long-distance relationships are hard. I can tell people that now, from experience. I wouldn’t recommend it. Chase has been home for three months, and I still sometimes get that sinking feeling that he has to go back, that he has to leave again. It’s silly, I know.
The only good part about it was that we were so far away that all we had was talking on the phone and texting. We know a lot more about each other—about what we both want in life and how we feel about certain things, like politics and religion and whatnot—because that’s all we had. There was none of the physical getting in the way. I feel like I know Chase better because of it. Even if I hated every second of being away from him.
Visiting him in London was amazing. We took in the sights and Chase got to finally skydive, since he never did it back in Phoenix. He had to go tandem with a guy named … well, Guy was his name. Guy’s accent was so thick and he mumbled his words. I think Chase was more scared to jump with Guy than he was to actually jump.
It was after the jump, full of adrenaline, that he told me he loved me. It was easy to say back.
He took me on a hot-air balloon ride while I was there, and despite the third-wheel pilot, it was as romantic as I’d hoped it would be, floating over the English countryside, his arms wrapped around me. Chase’s, not the pilot’s.
He came back to Phoenix for two weeks during September, and it might have been the best two weeks of my life so far. I spent every possible minute with him, kissing him, staying up late talking. It was hard to let him leave. I may have asked him to quit his stupid job.
Before Thanksgiving, he came home for good. I cried when I picked him up from the airport, so happy to have him back with me. I also felt stupid for crying. I’ve become this ridiculous lovesick person. I hardly recognize myself. Hannah says I make her want to vomit.
Now we’re sitting on his couch in his living room on a lazy Saturday evening. We’re watching TV, Oscar’s head in my lap, Chase sitting right next to me. So close that it feels like we’re glued together. His arm is around my shoulders and he’s making lazy circles with his fingers on my arm. I love this moment. I don’t care if I’m a cheesy person now.
We’ve had a lot more of these lazy days since he’s been back. Gone are the days of one adventure after the other. We still do them—it’s just only once in a while. We’ve settled into a real relationship, a real adult routine. And I love every second of it.
“Do you realize it’s been a year since I got that first text from you?” he asks.
I chuckle. “Has it really?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
I do the math in my head and I think he’s right.
“Well, I’m not sorry for it.”
He turns his head toward me. “Me either,” he says. “In fact, I’m really, really glad.” He leans in and kisses me softly.
He sits back. “I’ve got an idea for another adventure.” He gives me a mischievous smile.
“I told you I’m not bungee jumping.”
“Not that,” he says.
“I’m also not hiking Everest.”
“You’ve already made that clear.”
“So what do you want to do? Volcano surfing?”
Chase pulls his head back skeptically. “Is that a thing?”
> “I read about it the other day.”
“Would you want to?”
“Probably not.”
He chuckles this time. “I actually have a different adventure in mind.”
“Tell me,” I say.
He taps a closed fist on my leg and I look down. He turns it over and lets his hand fall open. There’s a ring. A round diamond set on a gold band.
I take in a quick breath and then look up at him. His eyes are searching my face, looking for answers.
“Marry me?”
I look back down at the ring and then back up at him. “Are you … serious?”
“Would I have a ring in my hand if I wasn’t?” He smiles that half-smile, but this time it’s tinged with something else.
“Are you nervous?”
“I am a little, yeah,” he says, now tapping on my leg with his hand, the ring in his palm looking blingy and shiny.
“Are you seriously worried I’ll say no?”
“Well, I mean, I hope you’ll say yes. Would you just answer my question?”
I smile. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“That’s one hundred percent yes.”
We both smile now. Big and wide and bright.
“I love you,” he says.
“And I love you,” I reply.
I hold out my hand for him to put the ring on my finger. I feel so many things in this moment. But mostly I feel peace. This is right; this is where I’m meant to be. I picture my mom looking down on me—on us—giving me that big reassuring smile of hers. I think she’d approve of Chase. I sometimes wonder if Chase getting her phone number was somehow her doing. It’s a silly thought, but one I like to entertain.
Chase stops himself before putting the ring on, and I look up at him.
“Kiss for good luck?”
I smile. “Well, it’s the rule.”
THE END
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About the Author
By day, Becky Monson is a mother to three young children, and a wife. By night, she escapes with reading books and writing. An award-winning author, Becky uses humor and true-life experiences to bring her characters to life. She loves all things chick-lit (movies, books, etc.), and wishes she had a British accent. She has recently given up Diet Coke for the fiftieth time and is hopeful this time will last... but it probably won't.
Other Books by Becky
Thirty-Two Going on Spinster
Thirty-Three Going on Girlfriend
Thirty-Four Going on Bride
Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace
Taking a Chance
Once Again in Christmas Falls
Just a Name
Just a Girl
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