You, Me, and Forever (Blushing)

We were sitting on the floor in the living room at his rental home, and I was thrilled that he’d agreed to spend the evening making his first vision board. I’d insisted he try it, and I’d brought over two large canvases, a big bottle of Mod Podge, and a stack of magazines.

Country music crooned through the surround sound, and we had the fire going, with the temperatures continuing to drop outside. I’d made my favorite fondue to eat while we worked on our boards, and even though he’d complained relentlessly about doing this, I could tell he was enjoying himself. I popped a piece of sourdough bread smothered in cheese in my mouth as I glanced over at his board. He’d just cut out a giant lion, and he was gluing it in the center.noveldrama

“Admit it. You like this,” I said as I used my glue-covered paintbrush to attach a photo of a porch swing to my board. I didn’t have a large enough front porch for a swing yet, but I knew that was something I wanted someday.

“It’s fine. I don’t think I’ll be making a vision board back in Manhattan, but I understand the concept. I think I’ve always had a vision board in my head.”

“It doesn’t matter where it is, whether it hangs on your wall or is permanently imprinted in your brain. It’s all about going after what you want, and not focusing on what can go wrong. That’s why I started doing these, because I had a lot of fear for a long time.”

He set his brush down and reached for a piece of broccoli and dipped it in the cheese, groaning when he popped it in his mouth. “What kind of fears?”

“Well, I used to worry about everything. Something happening to my dad, and me being left alone. Then I worried about my grades in college, and about paying for tuition, about my father being alone back in Blushing, about marrying the wrong man. You name it. I worried about it.”

“Damn. That’s a lot to carry.”

I chuckled. “You aren’t a big worrier, are you?”

“No. But I did almost derail myself by choosing a profession that I didn’t love. So I understand the need to stay focused on what you want. You don’t have to be a worrier to derail yourself.”

I nodded. “I’m impressed that you stood up to your father. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“I don’t really give a shit anymore what he thinks of me; I just know that I don’t want to be like him. He’s an empty shell of a man, really. He just needs his ego stroked, but he doesn’t have much in life that truly makes him happy.”

“What makes you happy, Myles?”

“Creating things. Building things.”

“Well, that’s what makes you happy professionally. But what makes you happy personally?” I asked as I cut out a photo of a gorgeous wedding dress.

He was quiet for a beat, and I looked up at him to make sure he’d heard me. I realized he was processing. That’s one of the things I loved about Myles. He wasn’t a bullshitter. He was a straight shooter, and he answered questions with thought and honesty.

Not everyone was that way.

I respected it.

“I don’t fully know how to separate personal from business, if I’m being honest. But I can tell you that it makes me happy when my brother is doing well. It makes me happy when my mother is not worrying about my father’s bullshit and living her life. And it made me happy when you got teary eyed that we were going to partner up on the Murphy Ranch.”

My heart pounded at his words.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that we were going to be partial owners of the place. We were still working on the specifics. He wanted to go fifty-fifty on our partnership, and that felt completely unfair and ridiculous. He was putting all the money up, so why would the Blushing Bride have that large of a percentage in the business?

Hearing that it made him happy to see me happy—I didn’t know how to process it.

I knew I was head over heels in love with Myles St. James.

I knew that I’d never loved anyone the way that I loved him, and I’d had two very serious relationships over the years, so that was saying a lot.

But I also knew that loving someone was not always enough.

He had a big, bad world that he wanted to conquer.

And he preferred to conquer things on his own.

He was the lion that he’d just glued onto his board.

And I was the girl who wanted to grow old with her partner, sitting out on a porch swing together.

We wanted different things, and that was a hard pill to swallow.

“Oh, also, it makes me super fucking happy I get to fuck you with no condom and feel you come all over my cock. That’s my personal favorite. In fact, I need a photo of that for my vision board.”

I gasped. “You have the filthiest mouth.”

“I speak the truth.”

“But you’re also much sweeter than you let on.”

“Only for you, Honey Badger.”

He focused on the photo of the porcupine he was cutting out, and I used my hand to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. “Are you putting Porky on your board?”

“That fucker has grown on me.”

“You don’t say.” I raised a brow. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You bought him a crate, and you feed him every day.”

“Those are table scraps.”

“It’s okay to say you like him. To say you like it here.” I reached for my glass of wine and took a sip, watching him over the rim.

“I like you. That’s all I’m admitting to.”

“I like you too.” I cleared my throat, trying to push the large lump that had settled there away.

“What makes you happy, Montana Kingsley?”

“Family. Friends. Nature and animals. Good food. Painting. Weddings. Books. Writing. Music. All the things.”

“Wow. Your answer is so much better than mine.” He shrugged. “Do you want to get married and have a family someday?”

We’d never talked about the future, because we’d known we didn’t have one.

But then he’d bought this business, which I guess was very much something that affected my future, so it was only natural to discuss these things at this point.

We’d grown to be more than a fling, and we both knew it.

“I do. I want to get married and have a family. I always wished for a sibling when I was growing up, so I’d like to have at least two kids. And I didn’t grow up with a mama, so I’d like to be one. I spent so many years when I was young dreaming about what it would be like to have a mom, you know? Like all the other kids in my class. And I guess it made me realize that just because I didn’t experience it as a child, I could still experience those feelings as a mother.”

His gaze locked with mine, soft and full of empathy. “You’ll be a great mom. And from my experience, sometimes it’s better not to have someone in your life if they aren’t going to show up. My father was a shitty dad, and having him around did not enrich my life. Sure, he provided for me. I’m not taking away from that. But he was verbally abusive and dominant and disrespectful to my mother. So, maybe him being absent would have been better. I would have found a way to make money whether I was born into it or not.”

“I never thought about it that way. I was lucky to have the best dad, you know? He stepped up and did the job of two parents, and I never felt like I wasn’t loved a day in my life.”

“Then you were already winning,” he said, holding up his board to look at the porcupine and the lion and the sports car and the mountains and the photo of downtown New York.

“I think so.”

“So I’m curious now—seeing as you’re a wedding planner, do you want to have an enormous wedding when you find your fairy-tale prince on a white horse?”

Forget the prince on a white horse.

I’d take the broody billionaire in a Tesla if it were up to me.

“Actually, no. I already have my entire wedding planned out. And I’m not looking for a prince on a white horse, which you probably know, considering you met my narcissistic ex-boyfriend.” I chuckled. “I want to get married on the river with the mountains behind us, and just my groom and me. I don’t want a show; I want a marriage. A life. A happy life. With a family that I love, and that’s enough for me. Throw in a porch swing, and I’m a happy girl.”

Is it weird that we’re talking about this?

“You must have a song, though. What’s your wedding song?”

“You know how everyone picks these traditional wedding songs about this perfect life or finding your soulmate, and though I like those songs, they just aren’t what I’d want to represent my wedding. I’d go with something more raw. Something that spoke to me.”

“You know you’ve already picked it. What is it?” He smiled as if this was a riveting conversation.

“Well, I’d go with ‘I Remember Everything,’ by Zach Bryan.” I pulled the song up on his phone so it would connect to his speaker. “Listen to these lyrics.”

The soulful sound of Zach’s voice was raw, and Myles listened intently. “It doesn’t sound like they’re together.”

“Maybe they are, or maybe they’re not. Maybe they break up and get back together because they can’t live without one another, who knows? But it’s the lyrics and his voice that speak to me. The man singing this song can’t live without the woman he’s singing about. He doesn’t want to remember every detail about her—in fact he wishes that he didn’t—but he does. And then she sings about her pain, too, right? They beg each other to stay, because they don’t want their time together to end. It’s that kind of love that destroys you and puts you back together. I think they’re true soulmates. And I’ve never experienced that kind of intensity, and I think when I promise myself to someone for the rest of my life—I’ll feel this way.”

He just listened to the lyrics and nodded. “I like it. There’s no bullshit in your wedding song, Honey Badger. It’s raw and emotional. Good for you. You know what you want.”

I smiled and shook my head. I’d never shared this with anyone, and I loved that he didn’t judge me for what I wanted. Just like I wouldn’t judge him either.

“Thank you. I’m glad you agree.”

He played the song on repeat, and we continued listening to it.

“So what about a catchy wedding phrase for your big day? Your very own hashtag?” He thought it was hilarious that we used our big whiteboard in the office to brainstorm wedding slogans and hashtags for our couples.

I came across a photo of New York City, and I cut it out. I’d only been there once, and it was short and sweet, but I’d loved the energy of the city. And Myles lived there, so maybe I wanted a piece of him on my vision board.

“Nope. I think I’ve had to come up with too many to ever want to do it for myself. And since I don’t plan to have an actual wedding, and it would just be me and my sexy groom, we wouldn’t really need a slogan. But I do have my hashtag picked out, just for shits and giggles.”

“‘Shits and giggles,’ huh?” He smirked before studying my board. “Tell me what it is.”

“It would be bad luck to tell anyone their wedding hashtag before telling my groom what it is.”

He looked up at me, his eyes moving to where I’d just glued a photo of NYC on my vision board. He had the mountains and the water on his, so I had a feeling he liked Blushing more than he let on, just like I’d enjoyed New York more than I’d expected to.

“Come on, Montana. You’ve got to tell me.” He took a sip of wine. “We aren’t going to speak after I leave, so it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”

“Fine. You get three guesses. If you can get one of the words, I’ll tell you what it is. Even though you might be jinxing my future nuptials by making me tell you.”

“Hmm . . . let me dive into that overthinking head of yours. You’re overly positive about everything that doesn’t involve me, so it will be filled with all the sappy mojo. It must not involve names, because you don’t know the name of your groom yet.” He tapped his chin and thought it over.

“Wow. Shots fired. I had this hashtag when I was dating Phillip, by the way. But I still didn’t use names.”

“Because deep down you knew he was a douchefucker, and you were never going to marry him.”

“Maybe. So let’s hear your guesses, ole wise one.”

“‘Happily ever after.’” He raised a brow in question.

“Nope. It’s cute but it’s overdone. Two more guesses.”

“‘Love never dies.’”

My head tipped back in a fit of laughter. “You don’t want to put ‘death’ and ‘dying’ in your wedding slogan.”

“Hmm . . . one more guess.” He cleared his throat. “‘Forever with you.’”

“Damn you, St. James. You got one word.”

“Tell me.”

I sighed. “I don’t know why you even want to know.”

I suddenly felt self-conscious that I had a wedding song and wedding hashtag and no groom. How desperate was that? I’d picked both of them out a while ago, and it just felt like they fit the marriage I’d want to have someday.

And I’m a wedding planner, for God’s sake. This is what we do.

“Are you seriously going to weasel out of a bet? I thought you were a woman of your word.”

“I told you my name was ‘Dominique Venezuela’ when I met you,” I reminded him.

“Say it.”

“Why do you care?” I groaned.

“Montana, don’t make me force it out of you.” Before I could say another word, he had tipped me back on the floor and tickled me.

I hated being tickled.

I squirmed and laughed and shrieked. “Fine! I’ll tell you!”

He pulled back and reached for my hand, helping me sit forward. “That was ridiculous, by the way.” He added, “I’m waiting.”

“‘You, me, and forever.’” I tipped my chin up. It was a damn good saying, and one I wanted to embody in my future marriage with a man I’d never met.

“It’s better than I expected. A little corny, but I guess if you’re marrying someone, you’d be feeling corny.”

“Unless it was you, and then you’d be feeling horny.” I chuckled.

“Well played, Honey Badger.”

“So do you plan to be a bachelor for the rest of your life?” I asked, because there wasn’t anything we didn’t talk about anymore, and I wanted to know.

“Yes.” He set his brush down and leaned his back against the couch. “I had a horrible example, and statistically speaking, marriage is a bit of a crock.”

“You literally just insulted my entire livelihood.”

“I didn’t say weddings were a crock. I said marriage was.”

“Myles, that’s an ignorant statement.” I glared at him. “And you just invested in a wedding business.”

“Exactly. There’s a lot of money to be made there. Some people have two and three weddings. I’m investing in a booming business. People want to believe in fairy tales. I’m not investing in the success of the marriage. I’m investing in the fact that they’ll spend a shit ton of money on this one special day—regardless of the outcome, the math makes sense.”

“That’s not fair. Your parents are not the norm, Myles. In fact, I don’t know anyone who would remain married, knowing their spouse was having a long-term affair. That’s rare.”

“Well, your parents aren’t together. And your longtime boyfriend was unfaithful. So how can you even argue this?”

“Because I like the idea of people finding happiness. Myself included. And I’m not in the business that I’m in because I want to make money. I’m a wedding planner because I believe in love and marriage and happily ever after.” I pushed to my feet.

Why am I so angry now?

I carried the fondue to the kitchen and went to find my coat.

“What are you doing?” He was standing now.

“I’m going home. I don’t want to be here anymore.” I tugged the sleeves of my coat over my arms and zipped it.

“You’re fucking kidding me. I made the goddamn vision board. I’m sorry that I didn’t grow up wanting some fucked-up version of ‘You, me, and fucking forever.’ And because I don’t believe in some bullshit fairy tale, I’m the asshole?”

“No, you’re an asshole for just tearing apart my profession as a whole.” I stormed toward the door, and he followed. “And you’re an asshole for asking me to partner up with you when you don’t even believe in what I do for a living. I don’t have any desire to build a hotel, but I still support your passion for it. I would never say that it was bullshit.”

I didn’t have a car here, so I’d have to walk, which wasn’t a big deal, considering it was still light outside. But he followed me out the door anyway, cursing under his breath.

“Get in the damn car. I’ll give you a ride.”

“I’m walking.” I turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward my house. It was only a few blocks.

“You’re so fucking stubborn, Montana.”

“Well, add that to the list of things you don’t like about me,” I huffed.

“I liked the song. Don’t I get credit for that?”

“It’s not about credit, Myles. Everyone likes that song. It’s Zach freaking Bryan. But it’s what the song actually means to me that I care about. So no, you don’t get a trophy for liking the same music as me.”

“This is insane,” he called out from behind me, and I ignored him.

I continued walking to my house, and after I’d made my way up the porch steps and put the key in the door, I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing there at the end of the walkway.

He’d made sure I got home safe.

But I didn’t care right now.

I pushed my way inside and slammed the door.

As far as I was concerned, Myles St. James could kiss my ass.

Well, I might actually like that.

So he could kiss Clifford Wellhung’s ass instead.