Monday, September 1, 2014
“What in the ever-loving hell?” A barrage of pink, red, and white streamed past my eyes. I batted the unknown objects away and Beast jumped around at my feet, trying to save me from the unknown flying objects attack.
When the strange shower finally stopped, I blinked and opened my eyes again. A heap of rose petals in every shade of red, pink, and white was lying in front of my bedroom door. Actually, they trailed all the way down the hallway toward the stairs.
“Beast, stop it!” I admonished when he buried his face in the pile, growling and tossing petals left and right.
The rose-murdering puppy looked at me with feigned innocence, petals sticking out of his mouth every which way. I scooped him up and cleared his mouth, carrying him down the stairs with me.
“Kyle?” I called out when I reached the bottom.
He had to be the one behind this. My sister had gone boating on Lake Champlain with my dad today and I was sure they weren’t back yet.
“Out here!” His voice echoed from the yard.
I shuffled onto the porch, my nap barely doing anything to relieve my constant exhaustion. At the very least, the rest had seemed to pause the fifteen mini-hammers pounding on the back of my eye socket.
My jaw fell open as I took in the scene in front of me. The trail of rose petals had stopped at the door, but the porch was decorated with paper pink hearts, pink streamers, red roses in red vases, and tall white candles. In the center was a table covered in a dark red tablecloth with a beautifully decorated centerpiece of roses.
Kyle turned to face me, complete in a three-piece suit that made him look powerful and, impossibly, even more handsome. He held a single long-stemmed rose in his hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”
“What? What is all of this?” I could practically hear my own smile as I put Beast down and walked to my husband. “It’s September.”
“Nope.” His green eyes twinkled mischievously. “It’s February fourteenth, and you are my Valentine.” He handed me the rose, which I sniffed slowly, holding it in front of my mouth to hide my smile.
“Hmmm,” I hummed. “What if I don’t want to be your Valentine?”
Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me against his chest and dipped me sideways, like I weighed nothing—which at this point wasn’t that far of a stretch. Then his lips were on mine and he kissed me so intensely, I was floating. My hands cupped his jaw, his lips against mine, kissing him back with everything in me.
When he finally righted me, he flashed me a knowing look. “Would you be my Valentine now?”
“You’re very convincing,” I conceded without much of a fight.
He laced his fingers with mine, leading me to my chair. “Perfect, because I’ve made a romantic dinner for my Valentine.”
“You made it? What do you know how to cook?” I quizzed, never knowing him to cook before. “Or did you order takeout and put it on our plates?”
Kyle laughed. “That counts as making it, Tessa.”
“Oh, sure.” My words dripped with sarcasm, but he knew I was teasing. The effort he was going through for me had my emotions on overdrive—sarcasm was the safest defense.
“Don’t worry. This is certified Kyle Falls cooking, straight from our kitchen.” He opened a bottle of red wine and poured me a glass.
I sipped it, relishing the taste of my favorite Malbec. I didn’t drink often due to my medications, but I wasn’t about to deny myself anything anymore. If I wanted a glass of wine, I’m having the entire damn glass. Maybe the bottle.
“Mmm,” I hummed my enjoyment, the blend of flavors passing over my tongue. I’d lost my sense of taste during treatment, but luckily, it had returned, although not as strong.
“I’ll be right back with our food,” he told me, heading inside.
I took the opportunity to open a card sitting next to my place setting. My name was scrawled on the front in Kyle’s famously illegible handwriting that had taken me years to learn. I let my fingers trace his ink lightly, smiling at the thought of him penning my name and wondering how much time he’d have left to do that.
The front of the card had a picture of a small puppy with a surprising resemblance to Beast, and said, “This isn’t just puppy love…” I opened the card, and the sentence finished saying “This is forever love” over a picture of an older dog wearing comically geriatric glasses. It was both funny and loving—everything us—and a lump swelled in my throat.
“Ready to be amazed?” Kyle returned with a dish in each hand, both piled high with food. Steam lifted from each, and the smell of meat and potatoes quickly wafted over me.
“I’m already amazed,” I choked out, trying to keep the tears at bay while reading Kyle’s inscription in the card.
Dear Tessa,
We may not have another Valentine’s Day together, but we’ll have tonight. That’s all we need. The best years of my life will always be the years I had everything I ever dreamed of—the years I had you.
I love you with everything.
Kyle
“Babe, you’re crying.” Kyle put the plates down then grabbed a napkin. He knelt next to me—which with his height, brought him to my eye level—and gently wiped my cheeks.
I’d done my best to keep them at bay, but it was a losing battle from the start. “Happy tears, I promise.”
“You know what will make you happier?”
I shook my head, putting the card on the table.
“My food.” He motioned toward my plate, and for the first time, I really looked at what he’d made. Sliced roast beef topped with gravy sat next to a huge pile of mashed potatoes, a gleaming wedge of butter on top, and a small stack of dark green beans that radiated delectability.
“Kyle, this smells delicious,” I raved, my stomach growling. “I can’t believe you made all this!”
“And I washed the dishes already,” he boasted, taking my hand from across the table. “Plus, I’ll do these as soon as we’ve eaten.” He gestured to the plates in front of us.
That made me laugh. Hard. Tears were streaking down my face for an entirely new reason. On our first Valentine’s Day together, Kyle had cooked dinner for me as well, but had destroyed my kitchen in the process. He used every single piece of cutlery, bowls, plates, and cups I owned, including every pot and pan.
To this day, I don’t understand how that’s even possible because he only made spaghetti.
I hadn’t even thought about the dishes since we’d ended up hopping straight into bed after that dinner. When we woke up the next morning, I realized he’d already gone to work and left the dishes from last night for me to clean up. All of them. Piled high in my sink. There wasn’t even a clean mug left for me to have coffee!
I’d been so mad I almost dumped him then and there.
Instead, I’d left it there and waited for him to get home, then started a huge fight and made him clean it up. I still brought it up here and there, just to bug him.
“It’s not that funny,” he said, though he began laughing with me.
“Oh, it’s funny,” I choked out between gasps of air. “It’s perfect. So perfect.” We’d come full circle—he’d grown from that immature young guy, to a responsible, wonderful grown man in our years together.
“I’m doing it right this time, especially since it’s…” He spoke quieter this time, his laughter dropping off in a way only possible when it was covering tears. “Our last Valentine’s Day.”
“It’s still September,” I reminded him, suddenly nervous and fidgeting.
“I grew up with you.” He ignored my tangent and I loved how he never let my nerves pull him out of the moment. He wanted to reminisce, and I wanted to let him—despite how painful I knew it would be. “When I met you, Tessa, I was an immature kid…and kind of a jerk. Everything was about being a U.S. Marine, and no one’s feelings or thoughts mattered but my own.”
I smiled at the reminder. He hadn’t been that bad, but there was a transition period between bachelor to my committed and loving husband.
“I’d never met anyone who cared enough to make me grow up. Not until you. And you didn’t even make me. You just knew who you were and what you wanted, and you expected the same from those you let into your life.”
I squeezed his hand. “You’ve always been a great man, Kyle.”
“Maybe… but I was incomplete. I had zero understanding of how wonderful life could be just by waking up next to the woman you love every morning. And I love you,” He paused briefly, a strain in his voice. “And with you, I’m complete.”
“Kyle—” I sighed, tears prickling my eyes.
“What am I going to do, Tessa?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “When you’re gone? I’ll be missing everything that made me complete, that made me happy, that made me… me.”
I pushed to my feet and stepped around the table, sitting directly on his lap with my arms around his neck. Our foreheads rested against one another and I kissed the tip of his nose. He cried, and I cried, but we were silent. Tears streamed down our faces, and we didn’t bother to wipe them away, but we also didn’t heave or sob. No sound could have defined the pain in that moment.
“I don’t have the answers,” I started, the lump in my throat causing my words to croak out slowly. “But I do know none of the last few years will be erased. You’ll still have those memories of me, the things we did together, all that we meant to each other—it’ll still be here.” I placed my palm over his heart. “You’ll still have my family, the things you learned, the man you’ve become… none of that changes.” I swallowed hard as I kept my forehead against his and we both stared down at each other’s lips. “And you’ll still have me. Maybe not on your lap, but you’ll still feel me.” I traced a small heart on his chest. He covered my hand with one of his and squeezed tightly. “You’ll feel me where it matters most.”
Tears dropped on our combined hands, and I’m not sure if they were mine or his, but we didn’t move and we didn’t speak. Everything was already said. We stayed like that, foreheads touching and tears flowing.
He held me, and I held his heart.
We always would.