The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance)

by Sarra Cannon

  “You’ll see,” he says. “Wait here and I’ll pull the truck around.”

  I stand in front of the restaurant. It’s the first time we’ve eaten at a sit-down place that cost more than ten or fifteen bucks since we left Fairhope. The food was delicious, and it was fun to be dressed up again and feeling pretty.

  As I’m waiting for him, I wonder at how quickly perspective can change. Three weeks ago, I would have complained about the food at a place like this. I would have said it was too crowded or too common. I think back to all the times my friends wanted to go out to grab fast food or sit down at a chain restaurant. Sometimes I went and complained about, but sometimes I insisted on going to a nicer place, proclaiming that I would pay the check if we could go to the more expensive place.

  Thinking about it, I’m amazed I have any friends at all.

  Why didn’t anyone ever just say no? Or tell me I was being a snotty bitch? Other than Jenna, none of my friends ever really said no to me or told me they thought I was acting selfish. That girl is one of the few friends I’ve made who doesn’t seem to give a shit about my money or making me happy. But Jenna is a rarity.

  Most of my friends have gotten used to just going along with whatever I want. I never really thought of myself as a bully, but that’s sort of what I was. I insisted they all do what I wanted to do, thinking that if I paid for it, that made it okay to order them around. And what was worse, I made them feel bad about the places they liked, telling them that those places weren’t good enough for a girl like me.

  I’m feeling ashamed of myself and when Mason opens the door for me, he touches my arm.

  “Is something wrong?” he asks. “You didn’t like the restaurant?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that,” I say. “I’m having an amazing time.”

  He frowns as I climb into the truck. He closes the door and comes back around to the driver’s side. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks as he drives away from the restaurant. “I really want tonight to be fun. Did I say something that upset you?”

  I’m touched that he noticed my mood without me having to say a word, but I don’t want to destroy his plans.

  “It’s not you at all,” I say. “I was just thinking about the way I used to be. Before this trip. I was kind of a bully, wasn’t I?”

  His eyebrow twitches a little. “I wouldn’t call you a bully,” he says. “You’ve just always liked things the way you like them.”

  “And anytime someone wanted to do something or go somewhere I didn’t like, I offered them money to change their mind and do it my way.”

  He cringes. “You’re making it sound a lot worse than it really was, Pen.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m trying to think of one time when I didn’t get my way and was happy about it. No complaining. No condescending remarks. Just a selfless acceptance of whatever the group decided.”

  He’s quiet, and I wonder if he’s trying to think of an example. He shouldn’t waste his time. I already know the truth. I just don’t know why I never saw it for myself.

  “I was standing outside that restaurant thinking what a perfect night it’s been so far and wondering how many perfect nights I’ve missed out on or ruined because I was focused on the wrong things,” I say. “I should have been happy with the people I was lucky to spend time with instead of concentrating on the quality of the food or the prices on the menu.”

  He pulls the truck into an empty lot and turns to face me. “You aren’t seeing the whole picture,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with expecting excellence or wanting the best in terms of food or atmosphere or whatever. The problem isn’t that you want those things or that you value those things. The problem is that you valued them above the people you were spending time with. I used to do the same thing. If I couldn’t have a drink in my hand and there wasn’t good music blasting out of the speakers, I wasn’t there. I started to kind of hate myself.”

  I shake my head. “How is it possible that we’ve changed in such a short period of time? Do you think when we go back we’ll be able to hold onto this feeling? This knowing? Or do you think we’ll go right back to the way we used to be after a while?”

  He smiles. “Maybe we’ll have to plan a road trip like this once a year,” he says. “Just to keep our feet planted firmly on the ground.”

  It’s the first time he’s talked about any plans for the future. Strange he mentioned keeping our feet on the ground, because I suddenly feel like I’m floating.

  “Now, I have one last stop before we head can back to the hotel,” he says. “Are you up for it?”

  I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye and nod. “Absolutely,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

  He puts the truck in gear and drives us out of the empty parking lot and back onto the main road. We drive for a while before he finally pulls into the parking lot of a large building with these two huge neon boots on top of it.

  My confusion only lasts a second, but then I read the name of the bar.

  Knockin’ Boots.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Inside, it’s exactly how I would have imagined a Texas honky-tonk.

  The floors are a beautiful wood that’s scuffed and scratched on the dance floor from years of wear. There’s a band on stage and country music blasts through the dance hall. Couples dressed just like us dance around the floor. I walk forward and find an empty space just off to the side so I can watch.

  The only kinds of clubs I’ve ever been to have either been country clubs where mostly older couples dance cheek-to-cheek or nightclubs where everyone’s bumping and grinding and sweating like pigs.

  This, though, is something different entirely. On the floor, I see couples my age and couples older than my grandparents all dancing the same basic steps. A few fancy couples add in some extra swirls and whirls, but others seem more than happy sticking to the basics. There’s a railing that goes in a circle all around the dance-floor, separating the watchers from the dancers. And on top of the railing is a ledge where people can set their drinks while they stand and chat and watch.

  Mason leads me to a place along the railing, then tells me he’s going to go grab a few drinks.

  I can’t take my eyes off the dancers. There’s a strange beauty in the way they move. It’s all variations on a theme. Everyone an individual, yet also part of the group.

  When the song changes, the dance changes with it. This one’s a slow song and couples come together. But it’s not the kind of stand-in-one-place swaying back and forth kind of slow dance I’m used to seeing. These couples glide together across the floor, almost moving collectively in one big circle.

  I stand watching until the slow song ends, then realize that Mason should have been back by now.

  I lean over, trying to figure out where the actual bar is in this place. I search the crowd in the direction where he went, but don’t see him anywhere. With their hats on, all the men in this place seem to blend together in the darkness outside the center.

  I don’t dare go looking for him. We might never find each other again in this crowd.

  When Delores said her brother managed a bar in Texas, I imagined some rinky-dink little place with sawdust on the floor and an outdated jukebox. Maybe four or five tables scattered about. Knockin’ Boots is massive compared to what I pictured. And it’s a Saturday night, so the place is totally packed.

  Maybe the bar is just really backed up. Or maybe he went around asking about Delores’ brother. I don’t really have any choice but to stand here and wait, but I start to wish I’d just gone with him.

  After the song ends, there’s a break in the music. A tall man with graying hair steps out onto the stage and whispers something to the lead singer of the band. The crowd on the dance-floor stops and turns to see why the music has stopped.

  “Good evenin’ foks,” the man says. “My name is Lester Jenkins and my wife Caroline and I would like to officially welcome y’all to Knockin’ Boots.”

 
; The crowd cheers. A few people let out whoops and whistles.

  “Now, I know this is a little unorthodox for us on a Saturday night, but I’ve had a special request that I just couldn’t refuse. I hope you won’t mind indulging us a little tonight. What do you say folks, do you want to hear a special song from a brand new friend of mine?”

  I turn in the direction of the bar again, tempted to just forget my decision to stay put and go look for him after all. There’s no way it’s taken him fifteen minutes to get a drink. Maybe he got lost.

  The crowd dies down and from out of the silence, the music begins.

  A single guitar, simple and soft. My eyes naturally drift back to the small stage.

  That’s when I see him.

  Mason walks up to the microphone stand and takes it in his hands The guitarist moves to the side and behind him, the rest of the band gradually joins in. A steel guitar. The drums. Keyboard.

  I raise my hand to my heart and press it hard against my chest. Tears sting my eyes. I’m so surprised, I’m laughing and crying at the same time. I lean forward against the railing, wanting to be closer. Wanting not to miss a single detail of this moment.

  His fingers grip the mic effortlessly, like he’s not even nervous at all. I watch in awe, unable to believe this could be real. Did he do all this for me?

  Seeing him there, my heart has never been so open or so fragile.

  And when he begins to sing, the world around me quiets to nothing. In this moment, there’s no one on earth but the two of us.

  I recognize the song instantly. It’s an older song by Garth Brooks. She’s Every Woman. I used to listen to it on repeat when I was younger and going through a country music phase where I couldn’t get enough. He used to tease me about it. How could he possibly remember that? It was years ago.

  Something about this song always left me with a longing inside.

  It’s all about a woman who is everything to her man. She’s complicated and beautiful and difficult, but to him, she’s both his fantasy and his reality. Through the good and the bad, he’s come to appreciate her for all that she is. Not just a woman up on a pedestal, but a real woman, flaws and all.

  I have always wondered what it would feel like to be that to the man I love. To know that he loved me so much, I was the only one he could see. To know he didn’t want anyone else.

  Mason makes the song his own. It’s slower, more deliberate. Each word is a direct line to my soul. And his voice. Oh god, his voice is perfection. Smooth and effortless. Strong and true. And it makes it even more special because I know he’s singing for me.

  To me alone.

  And for the first time in all the years I’ve loved him, I know he loves me too.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  When the song is over, the crowd is silent for several beats. No one moves, including me. The emotion Mason put into that song was raw and beautiful.

  I’ve never seen him so vulnerable.

  I’ve never loved him so much.

  The applause that comes next startles me. I can’t clap. It isn’t enough for what he’s just done. All I can do is watch him. Wait for him.

  He stands and searches for me through the crowd. He lifts his hand against the lights, then jumps down off the stage and heads straight for me.

  The crowd on the dance-floor parts as he walks through even though the band is starting back up and the dancing has returned to normal.

  My feet move on their own. I’m pulled toward him like a magnet and no one around us matters or exists.

  I follow the railing around to where it opens and he meets me there.

  We connect through our eyes, our souls, our hearts. And when he touches me, an electricity passes between us.

  I fall into his arms and his mouth descends on mine.

  And this first kiss of true love is different from any other we’ve shared. It’s not all fire and lust and urgency. There’s only strength and trust and total, glorious surrender.

  When we part, the connection is still there. It binds us to each other.

  He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor.

  “I don’t know how to dance like this,” I say.

  “I’ll lead you.”

  He pulls me into his arms and guides me around the circle. I’m awkward at first, my feet unsure. But he’s surprisingly good at this.

  On the slow dances, he holds me close. We barely speak, but I don’t need him to say a word. I just need him to never let me go.

  We dance several dances, but then he slowly pulls me off to the side and kisses me again. He puts his cheek to mine and whispers, “There’s something I want you to know,” he says. “The reason I chose that song was because I wanted you to understand. You’re every woman to me. All this time we’ve been together, there’s been no one else, Penny. Only you.”

  I touch his hand. “I know,” I say. “I trust you.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “No, I’m not talking about this trip,” he says. “I’m talking about all the time since that first night on the boat a year ago. The night we first got drunk and made love. You have no idea how hard I’d been trying to resist you. How long I wanted you before that night.”

  I stop, pulling away to study his face in the dim lights of the bar. “What? What are you saying?”

  I hear him, but he’s not making any sense.

  “I’m saying there’s been no one else. Not since that night,” he says. “There’s only been you.”

  Tears well up in my eyes. “But I saw you with those other girls,” I say. “I watched you flirt and tease and date and touch them. I saw you.”

  “I never brought a single one of those girls into my bed. I swear it.”

  I breathe in, still not believing this could be true. “Then why would you let me think you had?” I ask. “Why would you torture me like that?”

  He leans down and presses his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry,” he says. His voice is so soft, I can barely hear him over the music. “I never meant for any of this to happen between us. I wanted to keep my distance from you, because I knew that if I let myself love you—if I admitted that to myself or to you—it would change my whole world. I thought that if I allowed myself to love you, I would lose you. The way I lost Rachel.”

  Tears fall silently down my cheeks. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how this can be true.

  “I tried to keep that first night from happening, but after it did, I couldn’t stay away from you,” he says. “It was all I could do to make you think I didn’t care for you. I pushed you away so that you would hate me, but you never gave up on me. Then, after your accident, I knew I had to get away from you. I was so scared that I was the cause of everything bad in your life, and I couldn’t face that.”

  He pulls me close so that my head is resting against his chest and his arms are tight around me.

  “But when you showed up that morning with your tiny little bag and that look of hope in your eyes, I knew I was a goner,” he says. “I knew I couldn’t resist you anymore. And all I could do was hope that once we got away from Fairhope, I wouldn’t be such poison to you.”

  “You’ve never been poison to me,” I say, looking up into his eyes. “All those stupid things I did? I did them because I was crazy at the thought of losing you forever. If I had known you felt the same way about me, everything would have been different.”

  “I realize that now,” he says. “It just took me a long time to understand that I’d rather have you now and lose you than to never know what it feels like to be in your arms.”

  I lift up on my toes and kiss him, my lips soft against his. “You aren’t going to lose me,” I say.

  He stiffens and looks away. “I hope not, Penny,” he says. “But there’s something you need to know. Something I haven’t been able to tell you about. It could change everything between us.”

  I place my hand on his lips. “Not tonight,” I say. “Tonight, let’s just be together. Let’s just let these wal
ls down and love each other. Tomorrow, we can share any secrets we have left.”

  I think about the baby and how I’m not quite ready to tell him. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

  He nods. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go back to the room. I want to make love to you so bad I can’t stand here one more minute.”

  We walk hand-in-hand off the dance floor and out the front door. The ride from the bar to the hotel lasts an eternity. I ride snuggled close to him, my head resting on his shoulder, his free hand entwined with mine.

  There’s a buzz between us. It’s nothing anyone could see by looking at us. It’s just something new that vibrates there between us. Something like hope.

  In the parking lot, he lifts me into his arms and carries me through the lobby and down the hall to our room. When we’re inside, he lowers my feet to the floor.

  I lift up to kiss him, but he puts a finger to my lips, stopping me. He slips his hands around my face and stares into my eyes.

  “I love you, Penny,” he says, his eyes shining. “I know it took me a long time to get here, and I know I’ve hurt you in the past. I’m sure I don’t deserve you, but I promise I’m going to love you with all that I am for the rest of my life.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you,” I say. I lift my hands to his and hold them tight in my own. “I love you, too, Mason. I’ve always loved you.”

  I lift up on my toes, pulling him down into my kiss.

  He takes his time, exploring my mouth with his. There’s no sense of urgency, but the passion is still there. It smolders between us like hot coals.

  He undresses me one small piece at a time, letting his fingers trail a thousand paths across my skin. I shiver and moan under his touch as he explores me. When I’m naked beside him, I start to reach for the buttons on his shirt, but he moves my hand back to my side, a sly smile on his lips.

  He bends down, tracing the same paths of his fingers, but this time with his lips. He moves with such tenderness, it takes my breath away. He kisses my neck, then travels down my chest to the peaks of my breast. He teases them with his tongue and I lift up, wanting more.