Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I’ve got a feeling he’ll be proving himself to me forever.
The man is, and has always been, the perfect embodiment of complete and unwavering devotion. And I may never learn what in the heck I did to deserve calling this man mine.
Every day of our lives is a surprise. Sometimes, every moment is, too. I don’t know what the heck’s gonna drop on our plate next.
Even when we’re apart, we’re together. The afternoon rolls around, and Bridger shoots me texts from the clinic, often with a cute selfie that makes me laugh. I’m out at a client’s house and send him an off-putting shot of me with an impressively big wasp nest I just discovered on someone’s back patio. He sends me a pic of himself pulling on a glove with one finger sticking up, smirking suggestively—a pic I’m guessing someone else took, likely Carla or Marybeth, maybe even Trey, since I see both of Bridger’s hands—and I reply with a pouting selfie of my own while holding a spray bottle of eco-friendly insecticide like I’m about to squirt him with it. No day is a hassle. No hour stretches on forever.
With Bridger in my life, even my hardest days of work are fun.
I struck boyfriend gold with this one.
And there isn’t even a shred of a doubt in my mind about that when the pair of us are back together in the evening, seated with my parents at their house, enjoying a tasty spread with a slightly wine-happy mother and an uncharacteristically cheerful, talkative father, who seems suspiciously chummy with my boyfriend. At one point when I’m helping my mom clean up in the kitchen, the two of them even go off together, standing just outside the door, chatting away into the night about who-knows-what. My mom leans into me at one point, having spotted them herself through the front-facing kitchen window, and with her hands full of soap suds, says, “Honestly, I think your daddy loves Bridger more than he loves either of us. Can you just seal the deal already and make him my dang son-in-law?”
As if on cue, my dad and Bridger glance back at the window. A twinkle of happiness in my father’s eyes. Bridger smiling at me. I’ve got a wet rag in my hand and all I can do is just stare through the window at them, a smile trying to happen on my face, as my mom’s words echo in my brain, over and over.
Seal the deal already and make him my dang son-in-law …
We’re back in the car. I reach to turn on the radio and stop. “Bridger …”
“So I was thinking,” he says first, sounding overly excited, a bit jumpy, even, “maybe we could cap off this lovely night with a sweet treat? T&S’s?” He smiles at me. “I know it’s yours and Juni’s thing. You haven’t been in a long time.”
I drop my hand back to my seat. “That place reminds me of us,” I realize.
“Good times with you and Juni, huh?”
“I meant it reminds me of us … you and me.”
He turns my way. “Oh, really?”
“Yep.” My lips twist into a smirk, remembering it. “That first night when I messed with you over that jukebox at Tumbleweeds. Went straight to T&S’s with Juni afterwards. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.” I meet his eyes. “Even then, even when I hated you, I knew I was done for.”
“Hate is just love with another name, huh?” he teases.
“Somethin’ like that.”
Bridger chuckles, then pulls away from the curb, driving off.
I would be lying if I said it doesn’t instantly bring back a ton of happy feelings and memories the second I’m sitting in that tiny table at the front of T&S’s with a giant Football Sundae Special in front of us—a huge ice cream confection meant for two or more to enjoy, which Billy had temporarily taken off the menu for a while, and only just recently brought back. Bridger and I take turns as we feed each other spoonful after spoonful.
Every part of me is in heaven right now. My mouth, with each taste of this insanely sweet and satisfying treat. My heart, from the hand that feeds me these spoonfuls of perfection. My soul, by the sight of those sweet blue eyes across the table from me.
“You know who should be here with us?” Bridger asks.
His question comes out strangely stiff, like a rehearsed line from a script. I don’t know why that’s the first thought I have. But Bridger is always such a naturally calm guy, I’m instantly aware of when he’s acting different. “Who?”
He pulls out his phone, taps on it, then props it up against the napkin dispenser on our table.
A second later, Juni and Pete appear on the screen, in full view of both us and the remainder of our Football Sundae Special. “Oh,” moans Juni, seeing it, “I can taste that with my eyes.”