The Fall in Love Checklist

by Sarah Ready

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

  “Still time to reconsider,” says Jack.

  “Not helping,” I say.

  “I’m going to have you re-grout the entire first floor bathroom for this. No mercy,” he says.

  I look over at him. I think Jack is really, actually afraid of heights. He’s determinedly not looking at the edge of the bridge or the water below.

  “Hey,” I say. I walk over and put my hand on his arm.

  He looks down at me and gives a weak smile.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  He gives me a look, like he’s disappointed in me. “Dany, Dany, Dany.” He shakes his head.

  I scoff. “What?”

  “What’s a little free fall if it’s with you?” He winks at me and I warm. Just like that his bravado is back.

  “You are such a B.S.er,” I say.

  He shrugs. My heart does a little flip.

  “If we die…tell my parents I love them,” I say.

  Jack nods solemnly. “If we die…tell Sissy she can have the truck.”

  “If we die…tell the cancer, screw you, bee-atch.”

  He lets out a sharp laugh.

  The operator walks over. “We’re all set,” he says. He has a grizzled face with black hair that sticks straight up from his head. It looks like its permanently blowing in a free fall wind. His name is Curtis, and as he said, he’s been doing this for twenty-five years with no injuries, et cetera, et cetera.

  Jack and I are strapped into our harnesses and the safety measures have been checked and double checked. We’ve been weighed, we viewed a safety video, and signed the waiver. We did everything we needed to do to prepare for this moment.

  “When I call ‘go,’ you jump,” says Curtis.

  We’re doing a tandem jump, which means Jack and I are jumping off a platform one hundred and sixty feet high—together.

  The last few steps to the platform are really difficult. My feet start to drag.

  Jack notices. He squeezes my hand. Then we both stand on the jumping platform and look down.

  My stomach lurches.

  I don’t know that I can do this.

  I shake my head and start to say something.

  Jack turns to me, the devil in his expression. “If we die…” he says, “tell my Phillips head sorry he never got that screw.”

  “What?” I cry. Then I laugh and punch him on the arm. “You cretin.”

  But I feel better. He took away the fear.

  We stand together, holding hands at the top of River Bridge. It hits me that I’m on top of the world. That my life has never been better. I have four amazing friends. I have Jack. I’m living my life in amazing ways and becoming someone I love. In a strange way, my life has never been better.

  I can do this.

  “Three, two, one, go,” says Curtis.

  At the same time, Jack and I dive off the platform.

  I scream. In a fraction of a second, gravity kicks in and Jack and I are free falling.

  He’s whooping and I’m screaming. We’re flying through the air together.

  It only lasts a few seconds. But I feel so free, so alive, that the seconds are like an eternity. Then the cord stretches to the end. We’re near the water, then we bounce up, then down, then up and down until we settle. And it’s over. Just like that.

  The adrenaline spike, my pounding heart and all the anxiety, it transforms into euphoria.

  I hang there with Jack. Both of us breathe heavily while the boat chugs over. Curtis’s assistant is on board ready to release us.

  Our bodies are close. I think I can feel his thundering heart. I look at him and I can see that he’s feeling the same awe I am. We did it. We did it.

  Suddenly, I’m curious about something.

  “If you had a list,” I ask, “what would be on it?”

  He closes his eyes, then, “I’d go up in a hot-air balloon. It’s weird, I know, but that’s what I’d do.”

  “What? Really? Why haven’t you done that? There’s a company in town.”

  He looks at me and shakes his head then says in a slow voice, “I’m. Afraid. Of. Heights.”

  I start to laugh, I can’t help it. We’re dangling upside down over a river after a bungee jump and Jack is admitting he’s afraid of heights. He did this. For me.

  When I stop laughing I notice him looking at me. Staring. Like a wolf who’s starving. If I could I shift away in embarrassment, I would.

  “What?” I say.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He brushes my hand with his. “I think, that even though we didn’t die, I’m going to take you home and I’m going to strip you down and then I’m going to show you that tongue and groove you’re so curious about.”

  I grin. Euphoria. It has to be the euphoria.

  I love this. I never want it to end.

  “Y’all ready?” the assistant shouts up.

  Jack gives him a thumbs up.

  Then the assistant releases us, takes us to shore and item number one on my list is complete.

  In the small dirt parking lot, we wave goodbye to Curtis and his assistant as they pull away. We’re in the middle of the woods, at the foot of a bridge. And now, we’re all alone.

  Jack holds the door to his truck open for me. Then, when I’m about to get in, he closes it.

  I turn back to him.

  He’s still looking at me with the same expression as after the jump.

  I’m still filled with that deep happiness and euphoria. He walks forward and presses me between the truck and his lean body.

  I decide to step out on the ledge again. Maybe Jack and I can have something without masks, without me getting hurt?

  “Did you know there’s a secret item, hidden on my list?” I ask.

  “Is there now?” He leans in and I catch his scent, the same as always, wood shavings, leather, man.

  “I’ve always wanted to kiss in the woods,” I say.

  “Kiss?” he asks.

  I nod.

  Then he picks me up and stalks toward the tree line at the edge of the parking lot.

  He carries me into the forest to a small grove of blue spruce. The air is full of sap and it smells like Christmas morning. He lays me down on the bed of dried pine needles. They crackle beneath me and poke through my shirt.

  “Is this alright?” he asks as he kneels next to me.

  I relax back to the ground and take in the moment. “Better than alright,” I say.

  He smiles. I gaze up into his gray eyes. This is right.

  He pulls his shirt over his head. I reach up and run my hands over the lines of his chest and the firmness of his abs. His skin is hot against my fingers. He pulls in a sharp breath as I drift lower.

  I drag my fingers over the button of his jeans.

  He’s so still that I wonder if he’s still breathing. I look up. He’s watching me with quiet awe.

  It’s almost too much. I pull my hand away.

  “No,” he says. He grabs my hand and holds it. Kisses each tip of my fingers. Each time his lips land on a fingertip, an effervescence shoots through my veins.

  When he finishes with my pinkie, I pull my hand away and open his button. Draw down his fly. Then I push his jeans down over his hipbones, down his hips. Dark hair dusts his legs. I rub it and feel its coarseness. His maleness.

  Jack kicks off his shoes and takes his jeans down the rest of the way.

  He’s naked, except for a pair of boxers.

  I can’t help myself. I run my hands over his legs, his stomach, his arms, I want to touch him everywhere. His muscular shoulders. The tapering of his chest to his hips. His strong legs. I’m drunk on the feel of him. Warmth spreads through me and grows, and the more I touch him, the more I never want to stop. He lies still while I explore him.

  Finally, I look up. He’s quiet and his eyes are questioning. Like he’s asking me if all this is okay. If he’s okay.

  �
�Yes,” I say. “Yes.”

  That’s all it takes.

  His stillness disappears. He lunges forward. Piles his clothes in a little bed under me, and spreads me out beneath him.

  “My turn,” he says.

  I reach up to his face and draw my hand over his stubble. “For what?”

  “Kisses. And tongue and groove,” he says.

  Then the torture begins. He circles his hands over an ankle. Slowly he traces my ankle bone and then shackles my leg as he draws off my shoe and my sock. He drags his calloused hand up my calf and then back down. When he grasps my ankle more firmly, I cry out for more.

  “Shh,” he shushes me.

  I kick at him playfully. “Don’t shush me, it’s my list.”

  He chuckles. And then, the devil, he starts on my other ankle. Somehow, making the removing of my shoes the most erotic thing that I’ve ever felt. Until, he starts moving up. His hands climb up my legs, little sparks alight as he runs his hands up my calves, up the inside of my thighs. Up to the buttons of my jeans.

  Then he stops.

  “Don’t stop,” I say.

  “Shh, this is the groove,” he says.

  I buck my hips up at him, “I’ll show you groove.”

  But I stop arguing when he tugs up my shirt and starts running his lips over my belly. They’re feather light and hot. His lips drift over my skin and brush against me, like a whisper.

  Down. I want them down.

  I grab at his hair and wrap my fingers in it. Then he begins to unbutton my jeans.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  He laughs again. The devil.

  The scratchy material of my jeans drawing down my legs sends electricity over me. He pulls my jeans off and sets them aside. Then he plays with the hem of my shirt.

  A flash of fear shoots through me. He’s seen my scars already, but…what if…

  He pulls the shirt over my head and leaves me bare to him. I close my eyes tight.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I turn my head to the side.

  “Open your eyes,” he says.

  He coaxes my face back up. I open my eyes to him.

  “That’s better. If I’m going to do the tongue and groove, I want you to watch,” he says. He smiles down at me.

  And that’s when I decide, with a hard pang, that I really, really do love this man.

  30

  Jack

  * * *

  Dany’s naked beneath me. And I, dang, I’m in heaven.

  When we were free falling from that bridge, I realized that I’ve been fearing the fall, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. There is no crash at the bottom. We made it. Dany and me. And it was amazing.

  I’ve never wanted to make love to a woman so badly in my entire life.

  She looks up at me and I see the world in her eyes. She’s the bravest, funniest, most amazing person I’ve ever known.

  I lean down and take her mouth.

  I wonder if I could make her scream like she did when we were falling. Full throated and passionate.

  I kiss her cheek. Along her brow. Down her neck to her collarbone. Her hands flutter and try to send me away from her chest.

  “Don’t,” she says.

  Embarrassed?

  I growl and draw my lips along the scar.

  She shudders beneath me.

  “It shows me how brave you are. How strong. Why wouldn’t I kiss it?”

  I draw my lips over her and she sinks back to the ground beneath me. I pull my lips along her, graze her skin with my teeth. I run my hands along her rib cage and lower to the soft curve of her waist. She shudders. Then I hear a sniffle and realize that she’s crying.

  I life my head and give her a questioning look.

  “It’s okay, they’re happy tears,” she says.

  I nod.

  I understand.

  I kiss each tear. They’re salty on my tongue. I press my lips to hers.

  Then, she sighs, and it’s like she’s been released from any worry or fear or hesitation she had. Her hands run along my shoulders and my back. They run over me and pull me lower to rest on top of her. My length against the heat of her. Only the fabric of my boxers and her panties separate us. The rest, our bare skin touches everywhere. And it feels so dang good. I tangle my feet with hers and rub against her.

  “I get the groove, but where’s the tongue?” she asks.

  I laugh into her neck and nibble at her collarbone. Then I flip her over and pin her pert behind beneath me. She gasps and arches up against me. I’m this close to losing control and tearing off her panties. If she keeps rubbing up against me like that, I will.

  “Shh,” I say.

  I rock against her and she lets out a low throaty moan.

  Then I catch a glimpse of what I want.

  “You have no idea,” I say. I run my hands along her spine. Then I trace the path with my tongue. She lets out a long sigh.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

  I circle my fingers in the dents at the base of her spine. Those teasing, taunting dimples. They’ve been haunting my dreams for weeks. I let my tongue circle in them, around them, until I’ve had my fill. And then finally, I draw her panties down her legs. She flips over beneath me. There’s a whole world’s happiness in her smile.

  She grabs my boxers and pulls them down.

  Now there’s nothing separating us. I let out a long breath as I nudge her thighs apart and settle between her legs. I hold myself still at her entrance.

  I feel like I’m there, standing on that bridge. We’re together. I take both her hands in mine and lace our fingers. I watch her eyes, and then…I plunge.

  We jump off. Together.

  She cries out.

  So do I.

  It’s heaven.

  I’m falling and it’s heaven.

  She’s holding me. I’m holding her. And I start to wonder, if maybe, just maybe, I don’t ever have to land. If we can keep falling together. Then the world draws in, to this moment and this woman, and I cry out, I love you. Except, it’s my heart that says it. Because I don’t know yet how to say it out loud. Or even if I can.

  She contracts beneath me and I ride on her wave until I’m giving her everything. I’m filled with wonder. For her.

  When my heartbeat slows I sink down and roll her into my side.

  I hear her sniffle. She’s crying again.

  “Happy tears?” I ask.

  “Check,” she says.

  My heart stumbles to a stop and then slowly starts back up again. Check. I’d forgotten.

  Check.

  Number twelve, I guess. Or maybe, this was the triple X she had in mind. My euphoria vanishes. Gone as quickly as it came. Dany still has a beach wedding on her list and I have a strong premonition that I’m not the groom she envisions. I never was.

  Still, I pull her closer, not wanting to let her go.

  31

  Dany

  * * *

  It’s been a few days since Jack and I made the big leap. Literally. We haven’t talked about it. Instead, I weed in the garden and help with painting and grouting. I’m not sure what he thinks about everything. I can’t bring myself to ask.

  I have a few more items on my list. And more than anything, I want to finish it. I want to see the Dany that I become.

  I’m sitting on the back porch overlooking the garden when my phone chirps. It’s my mother.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  She hasn’t called much since the chemo began. It’s alright though. Like I said, some people don’t do well when confronted with their fears.

  “Daniella, darling. How are you?”

  I smile at her high voice. I guess I’ve missed her.

  “I’m good. The chemo’s going well. I’m happy, really happy.”

  There’s a long awkward pause. I watch a bee drone by and land on the lilac bush. Finally, my mother speaks again.

  “That’s wonderful, darling. Absolutely wonder
ful. I’ve been so worried.”

  “You have?”

  “Of course, darling.” She sounds affronted. Then, “That’s why I called. I spoke with Shawn. He loves you, darling. He wants you back.”

  I nearly drop the phone. My stomach rolls. Once, when I was little, a boy in my first grade class literally pulled the rug out from under me. One second, I was standing, the next, I was flying through the air, hitting the ground.

  This feels like that moment.

  The rug has been pulled out from under me.

  I take a second to adjust to the jarring sensation.

  “Darling, did you hear me? I spoke with Shawn.”

  “Shawn?” I swallow. Shawn. My fiancé. Ex-fiancé. My…what?

  The man I desperately wanted to marry. Who I’d been determined to reconcile with. Who I love…loved?

  I realize I’m holding the phone with a death grip. I loosen my fingers.

  “Yes, of course. He wants to speak with you. He’s sorry. Terribly sorry for what he did. The poor man cracked under the pressure, and now he realizes what a horrible mistake he made. He’s absolutely in bits over it. Didn’t I tell you this would happen? Didn’t I?”

  I let this sink in. “No, you didn’t,” I say.

  The air feels hot and closed. I stand and walk out to the garden. I notice a cluster of weeds that I missed near the bleeding heart. The weeds are choking the flower’s early blooms.

  There’s another pregnant pause from my mother. I walk over to the flower bed and fall to my knees.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I tell her.

  My mother gushes on, ignorant of my world upending, again. “I expected you to be ecstatic,” she says. “He wants to talk with you as soon as possible. He loves you, darling. He wants the wedding. I told him it was poorly done, what he did to you. He knows. He regrets what he did and is wretched without you. He’s sorry.”

  I look at the weeds. Take them in my hand. Start to pull. But, I can’t…I don’t…

  “Darling?”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Darling, this is what you want. Aren’t you ecstatic? This is your dream. Everything you want. You can have your life back.”