Embrace

by Fernandez, Michelle

  “You trust me, right?” I ask.

  “With my life,” she answers quickly as she tilts her head and I know it’s killing her to know what I have up my sleeve.

  I stand behind her and assess what she’ll see before I remove the piece of cloth from her eyes.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  There’s a bit of hesitancy in her nod. The ocean breeze blows her soft blue summer dress, the scent of her sweet perfume hits my nose, and her hair tickles my face as I kiss her bare shoulder.

  I untie the blindfold, tuck it in my back pocket, and remind myself to use it later tonight so I can get a little kinky with her.

  I step in front of her as she flutters her eyes open. When she regains her vision, I step to the side so she can see what’s in front of her. I give her a minute to take it all in and wonder what she thinks of my childhood home.

  “This is the house I grew up in. The renovations were finished a couple of weeks ago. What do you think?”

  “It’s stunning,” she says as I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.

  We take a moment to survey the house.

  The pristine white Victorian home, with light blue shutters, reminds me of her brother’s home in Kansas. Colorful flowers are planted alongside the manicured lawn. A two-seater swing floats in the corner of the wraparound porch and concrete pots with green plants on each side of the large dark blue door greet us.

  The designer I hired said it’s southern-beach-house, meets old-world charm, whatever that means. Just as long as Delilah likes it, that’s all that matters.

  She takes a few more steps and looks down at the stones that pave the walkway to the lower step of the porch.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

  I kiss her cheek then look at the different shaped soft yellow stones haphazardly placed making the perfect pathway that leads up to three steps and to the white house.

  “Uh-huh.” I nod, grinning she caught that detail. “Your very own yellow brick road.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Why did Dorothy follow the yellow brick road?” I ask.

  “To find her way home,” she answers.

  “Exactly.”

  Her breath hitches as she quickly turns to face me. “Brody, what are you saying?”

  “I want you to move in with me. In this house.”

  She looks up at the house, then back at me with those breathtaking topaz eyes. What is she thinking? Is it too soon to ask?

  “I love you so much . . . But this . . .” Her eyes dart back to the house again. “This is . . . I can’t believe . . .” She looks back at me as tears well in her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Did you say yes?”

  She nods. “Yes, I’ll move in with you,” she says as she cry-laughs.

  Thank fucking Christ! I let out an exasperated breath. I pick her up and swing her around.

  After a few spins, I set her down. I frame her face with both my hands and press my lips to hers. I move to the corner of her mouth, to her cheek, then pepper kisses down her neck to her bare shoulder.

  God, I love this woman and I don’t want this moment to end, but I want to show her the rest of the house.

  As we walk up the path, my mind is going a million miles an hour. What I am about to show her solidifies everything I want to be to her and how I want her to feel when she enters.

  I open the door and all the lights and lamps are on. It’s welcoming and inviting. The designer did an amazing job, bringing it up to date and adding all the details I requested.

  The wooden floors are refinished, and Dee laughs when I tell her I’m game for re-enacting the story of my dirty socks when I slid across the surface, only clad in my boxer briefs this time.

  As we continue down the hall, she observes the first picture on the wall. My mom and dad on their wedding day. And there’s something about how she studies the picture as if she is searing it to memory and taking in all the small details of the photo.

  She smiles at the next picture. It’s of me and Avery, holding Mom’s hand.

  Then there’s a picture of us at Dylan’s engagement party. Delilah in her yellow sundress is sitting on my lap, her arms around my shoulder, and I’m holding a beer.

  Then the next one is of Dad and me, just before I left for the navy with the numbers 27:17 embossed on the frame.

  I draw in a deep breath and she gives me the time I need. It’s been three months since I buried my father. And I miss him. I glance over at Dee and remember when Dad asked her to read an excerpt from his journal. It was the day he remembered me and the day he said he was proud of me.

  I take her hand and give her a tour of our house. The three bedrooms and master suite upstairs. She especially loves the large tub built for two. Then I show her the office, den, and the newly renovated kitchen with top of the line appliances.

  We make our way to the living room. I quickly look around and smile at the little feminine touches, a few sunflower tchotchkes to personalize the coziness of the space. She walks throughout the room, her fingers glide over the top of the sofa table, surveying more pictures of us, family, and friends.

  She points to the sofa and I stifle a chuckle when she notices the sunflower throw pillows I took from her house. The same ones she used to cover her body when I picked her up on our first date.

  I cradle her face with my hands, wanting to make sure I’m not dreaming, and to calm my nerves. I pull out an envelope from my back pocket and clear my throat.

  “This house holds a lot of amazing memories. After we buried Dad, I found this letter in one of his journals. It was addressed to me and this is the perfect moment to read it. May I?”

  Delilah nods and softly smiles as we sit on the sofa.

  My dearest Brody,

  If you are reading this, know that I am in heaven and watching over you and your sister, and next to me is your mother painting our lives on a new canvas.

  I want you to know that I loved your mother very much. She was my soulmate. But we let our work consume us and it ruined what we had.

  When you find your soulmate, seize the moment! Make her your priority, not the option. She’s going to shake things up. She’ll take you out of your own routine, but you’ll make a new routine together.

  Don’t be like me. Don’t take life for granted and don’t sleep alone in the dark.

  Your soulmate is the one that will brighten your days and nights.

  Be each other’s sunrise and sunset.

  If there is anything I taught you in life, I hope that it’s being a man with dignity, loyalty, and respect. But most of all to love her unconditionally, cherish her always, and never give up.

  I love you, son. ~Love, Dad

  I take a breath, choked up by reading it again. My eyes veer up to a painting above the mantel. It’s a sunset setting over the ocean’s horizon and a house rests on a cliff. This house.

  Delilah stands and moves closer to examine the watercolors my mom stroked on the canvas many years ago. She narrows her eyes and reads the inscription. His sunrise, her sunset.

  I fold the paper, stuff it back in the envelope, and place it on the coffee table. I stand and wrap my arms around Delilah. Her back to my front, resting my chin on her head. I breathe her in. Her peach scented shampoo and the unique perfume Jenna made just for her.

  This is my Delilah.

  “Brody, this is exquisite.” Her fingers lightly graze the edge of the canvas and my mom’s signature at the bottom corner.

  “There are more throughout the house. But this one is my favorite.”

  “Your mother was extremely talented.”

  “I have one more surprise for you. Have a seat.” I stretch my arm and gesture to the sofa.

  She sits down, and I pull a lavender box from under the coffee table.

  “What’s this?” she asks as I rest the gift on her lap.

  “Open it.”

  She unties the ivory bow and removes the lid. Her eyes go wide.
“Brody?” Her voice questioning, full of emotion and there’s a bit of a giggle as she meets my eyes. “This is my wedding catalog.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I made some additions.”

  She pulls it out of the box and opens it to the first page. There’s a cutout of Delilah’s face on the headless bride. She giggles when she realizes the tuxedo man is no longer headless. It now has my face.

  Our laugh fills the room as she turns the pages. More silly headless magazine cutouts replaced with our faces. When she turns to the next page, she gasps when she sees her necklace with the cross charm tied to the sheet.

  Tears well in her eyes as she looks up at me. “I thought I lost this.”

  “I found it . . . that night in the cabin. I had it cleaned and got the clasp fixed.”

  She lifts her hair as I fasten the necklace around her neck, then I kiss her tattoo, Spend your life chasing sunsets at the nape of her neck.

  “Thank you for this,” she says, touching the charm with her fingers.

  I press a soft kiss on her lips and return to the catalog.

  She flips it to the next page.

  There’s a picture that Susie and Catrina drew. The crayon marks just outside the dark lines of a lopsided white house with blue shutters. A rainbow and sun behind the house. Pink and red flowers on the green lawn.

  Delilah’s fingers brush over the yellow-colored path leading up to the man and woman stick figures holding hands with a dog at their side.

  It’s us.

  On the bottom of the picture, written in a child’s penmanship.

  There’s no place like home

  “This is absolutely adorable,” she says. “I miss those girls.”

  “You miss home, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She looks around the room and smiles, then she pulls my neck toward her and presses a lingering kiss on my lips. “But this is my home now. With you.”

  “You can do or add any girlie-cute stuff you want to this place.” I clear my throat. “Speaking of girlie stuff, what else is in this book of yours?”

  We flip through the rest of the book and she tells me what she thought about when she cut out the flowers, the wedding dress, and the bridesmaid dresses. We laugh more when she sees I added our faces to her headless pictures on the beach, a honeymoon destination.

  “Brody,” she says, closing the book and meeting my eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” Her soft hand touches my jaw and her thumb grazes my cheek.

  I take her hand and kiss her palm, then bend down to one knee and place a white mesh drawstring pouch that holds a three-carat ring in her hand.

  “Brody . . .” Her voice hitches, tears well in her eyes, and her free hand covers her mouth.

  “Dorothy, I have been that guy who never wanted to get married because of what I did for the navy and what I do now, but most of all, because I never really found the one. I know that catalog has been a part of your dream wedding since you were a kid. But I want to make a real catalog with real pictures of you, me, and our kids. The boys will be surfers and the girls, with your beautiful eyes, will be grounded the moment they’re born. This way they don’t meet jerks like me.”

  “You weren’t all that bad,” she says and giggles coyly.

  “You thought I was when I first saw you at the club,” I remind her.

  “True. But you proved to me that you are all gentleman.”

  “And I will continue to prove that to you for as long as I am still breathing.” I take in a deep breath. “I knew you would be something special in my life. You completely mesmerized me. Captured me. When I lost you that night, you were all I thought about. When I found you again, it was fate that brought us together. You’re the only one that’s chased my nightmares away and shown me what dreams are made of. I want to love you at your weakest moments and at your strongest. I love that you’re afraid of the dark and how you light it up not with the lamp or a flick of the switch, but with your smile and your heart.”

  I loosen the drawstrings, take out the ring, and hold it between my two fingers. My heart lodges in my throat as nerves stir in my stomach, watching her eyes brim with tears.

  “I want to make a new routine with you. I want to wake up every morning with the sunrise warming your beautiful face while eating banana bread for breakfast. I want to watch every sunset with you on our balcony when we have our pizza with your wine and my beer. You know I’ll screw up and disappoint you more often than not. But one thing I want you to know, these hands of mine will never hurt you. These hands will caress your soft skin, cherish your body, and handle your heart with care. It’s you and only you that I want, no one else. Marry me, Delilah. Be my wife, now and for always.”

  Delilah doesn’t say a word, and the suspense is killing me. My head is spinning, and my mouth is dry. A tear falls down her rosy cheeks and I’m not sure how to take it. Then she grabs my neck, pulls me close, and her lips are on mine. Our tongues collide and dance to their own harmony. I taste, savor, and worship her in the silence of our living room.

  * * *

  Delilah

  When we pull apart, breath panting, he asks, “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes! Yes! Triple yes! I will marry you!” My heart is pounding in my chest.

  He kisses the ring and slips it on my finger. “I love you so much, my future Mrs. Reinhardt,” he says with so much emotion a tear falls down his handsome face.

  My eyes go wide as I stare at the shiny prisms glistening in the natural light. “I love you back, my future husband and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

  He clears his throat. “Well, since you brought it up . . . how soon do you want to get married?” he asks nervously, making me wonder what else he has up his sleeve.

  “I would marry you today,” I answer with certainty.

  He takes my hand, links his fingers with mine, and leads me down the hallway, through the kitchen, out French doors, and onto the balcony.

  “Brody, where are we going?” I ask out of breath, as I stumble in my heels, trying to keep up.

  “Then marry me today,” he says with so much affirmation.

  “Brody, are you crazy? What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying let’s do this. Today,” he tells me. “You have always wanted to get married during the sunset and the beach is right here.”

  “I was saying it hypothetically. I want my family, my friends, the cake, and the dress. My dad needs to give me away.”

  He leads me to a set of stairs on the right side of the balcony. I stand frozen as I blink my eyes and can’t believe what I see. In the distance, near the shoreline, all the things I just rattled off greet me.

  We carefully walk down the stairs and when we get to the bottom, I remove my heels. When I tear my eyes from the vision in front of me and over to the wonderful man who stands beside me, his smile says it all.

  “How did you pull this off?” I mutter as I turn back to the people gathered ahead of me. My heart swells as I look at all the smiling faces and waving hands.

  My parents. Drake with Franny. Dylan’s arms around Phoebe as she’s holding baby Parker. Daxton with my nieces and Jacob next to them. Then there’s Tawney, Landon, Emily, Kyle, Avery, and Jerick holding onto Serena’s leash around her neck.

  On the other side, Sydney’s holding Levi’s hand, and Jenna is even here. Paula and her husband, Michael. Catherine and Jackson. Natalie, Liam, Mark, and Charlie who I met when we flew to Virginia to visit. And lastly, Laura and her twin boys.

  “Seize the moment, just like my dad said in his letter.” He drops to his knee again, holding my hand and kissing the diamond ring on my finger. “Delilah Noreen Marshall . . . I love you so much it hurts. And I don’t know if I can last another minute without you as my wife. With the sunset as our witness and all the people that love us, I’m asking one more time, will you marry me . . . today?”

  I can’t take it anymore as a shock wave of emotion roars throughout my body. My heart is thumping as I giggle, sniffling,
and gently brush my tears from beneath my eyes with my thumb.

  I pull him up from his bent knee, frame his face and ask, “But who will marry us?”

  “I have that taken care of,” he says mischievously. “I’ll be right back.”

  Daddy comes up beside me as I watch Brody meet up with our friends and family. “Are you ready, baby girl?” Daddy asks as I take him in, looking into his deep blue eyes and sandy-blond hair neatly combed to the side. His jolly belly in a sport coat, blue button-up dress shirt, and khakis I know Mama made him wear for this occasion.

  “You knew about this?”

  His baritone chuckle warms my heart as his hands grab both sides of his lapels. “Brody is a good man.”

  “I can’t believe this is really happening,” I say.

  Daddy leans down and kisses my cheek. “Mama adores him. And a man that flies to Kansas, knocks on the door, and asks for our blessing to marry our only daughter, is all right in my book. I just want to make sure you are happy.”

  “I am very happy.” I nod and smile at him.

  My heart is filled with so much love that I have for Brody, and how he planned the ultimate surprise for me. I think back to when I was a little girl and I cut out the white dresses, the tuxedos, the three-tiered cake, and all the things I ever wanted in a perfect wedding and the perfect man I was going to marry.

  This is not how I imagined it to be.

  It’s even better.

  This moment right here, right now, is everything I want.

  Daddy takes my hand and crooks it in his elbow. We walk a short distance to the man who makes my world complete.

  Brody Saint Clair-Reinhardt.

  “She’s yours now. Take care of my baby girl,” Daddy tells Brody as he takes my hand and places it in Brody’s palm.

  “Yes, sir,” Brody says, and with his free hand, shakes Daddy’s hand.

  We turn and see Mark Dixon in a black robe, and I can’t help but laugh. “Seriously? He’s going to marry us? Is this even legit?”

  “Yes, he’s legit.” Brody darts his eyes to Mark, leans toward him, and whispers out the corner of his mouth, “Dixon, you are legit, right?”