Living Backwards

by Tracy Sweeney

  When I had a minute to stop and think and finally take a breath, it was late, and my body ached. The last patrons were finishing their meals and the kitchen was closing. Disappointment set in as I realized I would probably have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Jillian. I was tired and cranky, and the day had just been long and draining. With most of the kinks worked out, I knew tomorrow would be better, but I hated that I’d have to spend another day wondering how she’d answer.

  “Luke, we’re taking off,” Carter announced, his arm wrapped tightly around Grace’s waist. I don’t know why I even noticed where his arm was. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to hold her that way. Maybe it was how she leaned slightly against him. Maybe it was the way they seemed to meld together. It struck me suddenly, but so clearly, how much I envied them. I wanted what they had. And now that I had found it, I didn’t want to waste time.

  While a minute before I had decided to put off talking to her, I was suddenly convinced that it needed to happen now.

  “Drive safe,” I said, pulling him in for a one-armed hug and kissing Grace on the cheek.

  “We’re proud of you,” he said before turning. “They would have been, too.” With a tight smile, no doubt thinking of his big brother, my father, who should have been here to see this, he led Grace outside.

  When I walked back out front, the wait staff was mopping, cleaning and clearing tables. I scanned the room and saw Jillian sitting in the corner laughing with Danielle, Megan, Josh and Nate. It reminded me of the first time I looked across the room and saw them all together at my bar. So much had changed, so much was different. One thing was the same.

  “Luke, man, excellent night,” Nate said, standing and shaking my hand. “Scallops were amazing. Meg didn’t like the truffle salt on her fries, but personally I thought it was great.”

  “Jesus, Nate. Do you have a filter?” she sneered. “Ignore him, Luke. I loved my meal. I just apparently only like the kind of truffles that are chocolate-covered.”

  “No worries, Megan. They’re not my thing, either,” I replied.

  When I finally looked over at Jillian, her eyes were shining and she was beaming. I wondered if she’d been drinking too much wine. She stood up and walked to me, her arms encircling my waist.

  “You did it,” she said, pressing her head against my chest.

  And something shifted. Good timing. Bad timing. It was all bullshit. We spent so much of our time together worrying about whether our timing was good. No more. When it was right and good, you didn’t need to plan the perfect time or place or way to tell someone how you felt. Timing didn’t matter—not for us.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered to her.

  “Okay,” she said, searching my eyes. Maybe she could tell something had shifted, too.

  We said our hurried goodbyes, and I left Louis to lock-up for the night. Our hands rested, joined together on the center console of my car, as I sped through the city back to my condo. All of the uncertainly and nervousness I had been feeling seemed to have been released. I had never been so sure of anything in my life.

  Laughing and smiling like a fool, I pulled her across the parking lot, past George the security guard and into the elevator. Once inside, I held her face in my hands, kissing her lips—wet, firm, rough, and perfect. I wasn’t holding back.

  “I love you,” I said, not taking the time to move away, speaking the words into her lips, pressing them into her skin. My own tattoo.

  “So much,” she replied, silencing me, pushing me against the wall like she had after Danielle’s party, the night that changed everything. Now it was time to change everything again.

  When the door opened, I led her by the hand over to the couch that faced the distant lights she had come to love so much.

  “Today was crazy. You really have no idea.” I was pacing and I couldn’t stop.

  “I know,” she replied, chuckling.

  “No, I don’t think you do.” I wanted to laugh at how absurd and perfect this was. “I made a decision the other day. I decided that I didn’t care that we’ve only been together for a short time. Time doesn’t matter because it’s different with us, right?”

  I needed her to tell me ‘yes’. I needed to know she felt the same way. When we agreed to be together, we knew that going into this lightly could break us. With that knowledge came a certain understanding—we were in this for keeps. I needed to know she felt that, too.

  “I’m not exactly following.”

  “Jillian, I don’t want to pretend like we’re a normal couple who just started dating. We’re not. We’re more than that.” I looked over to her, suddenly feeling sheepish, only to see her nod slowly that she understood.

  “So, I spent all day dealing with one problem after another, but through it all, what kept me going was the fact that I was going to ask you to move in with me—here—when it was all over.” She gasped, but I didn’t let it stop me. I couldn’t stop now.

  “But that’s not what I want.”

  “Wait. You were going to ask me to move in with you, but you changed your mind, so now you’re not?”

  “No. I mean, no, that’s not what I meant,” I laughed, feeling crazy, delirious.

  “I don’t want you just to live with me. I want this. Us. All the time. Forever.” I dropped down on my knees in front of her and grabbed both her hands. “I don’t have a ring, but I’ll buy you the biggest, the best…whatever you want…anything. Just marry me.”

  “What?” she gasped, stiffening. I knew I caught her off-guard; hell, I caught myself off-guard, but I was determined.

  “Marry me,” I repeated, softer, pleading. I had no shame when it came to this girl. I never had.

  She stared at me silently, smiling, her eyes glassy and wet.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Screw timing.

  EPILOGUE

  Jillian

  Behind the dark wooden counter stood a man—not just any man. Mine. I watched his back muscles flex beneath his crisp oxford shirt as he twisted the towel around a glass, and then returned it to the drying rack. It didn’t matter that he had people to do this for him—mostly college kids who, like him, had been looking to find their place in the world. He never said it, but I knew he wanted to be to them what Jonas was to him. He told me once that he would have been lost without the bar when he thought that he’d never see me again. It was everything to him, and he enjoyed the work—even more than the restaurant with its reviews and acclaim. The bar, after all, was his baby…at least his first one.

  “What do I need to do to get some service around here?” I asked, settling down on one of the barstools. I crossed my legs, allowing my skirt to fall away from my upper thigh. He turned around, his brown hair messy up top and his smile crooked as his gaze rested on my legs.

  “I’m fairly certain you’ve been served quite well,” he replied with an evil smirk.

  “That may be true.”

  “But since today is a special day,” he added, coming out from behind the bar, “I might be able to help you.”

  “Today’s a special day? Remind me again?” I teased.

  “I think I reminded you last night,” he replied, whispering in my ear, “and this morning before work and again in the shower.”

  Yes, yes he did. I could still see the look in his eyes when he had tackled me in our bedroom. I had been rundown and exhausted, but he transformed my fatigue from the wrong type of tired into the kind that was so very right.

  “I think I may need you to refresh my memory,” I murmured, arching as his lips swept across my shoulder. I grabbed the back of his head as he trailed his tongue along my neck, nipping and teasing before descending on my lips, leaving me breathless and unsteady.

  “Happy Anniversary, baby” he said softly, grabbing my hand and spinning the rings on my finger.

  “Happy Anniversary,” I replied. “So, where’re you taking me?”

  “Where am I taking you?”

  Furrowing his brow, lo
oking as if this was a question he needed to contemplate, he turned toward the bar and placed his palms flat on the hard surface. Pressing down so that the muscles in his arm tensed, he bounced on the balls of his feet, testing its sturdiness.

  “Here’s good,” he said, smirking. “And don’t even pretend you haven’t thought about it,” he added just as I raised my hand to smack his arm.

  “I may have thought about it,” I replied, feeling my face heat up. “That doesn’t mean I’d do it.”

  “Um, yes, you would.”

  “What? No way. Do you know me at all?”

  “I know everything about you, which makes me even more certain that yes—if you were worked up enough—you’d have sex with me…right here,” he said, running his hand along the wood.

  “You’re delusional. You know that, right? Now, I’ll ask you again. Where are you taking me…for our anniversary dinner?”

  “You used to be fun,” he pouted. “Is this what happens after you’ve been married for a year? The thrill is gone? It’s all business? If you’re going to be that way, I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

  “Oh, really?” I shot back. “Then I guess you won’t be getting your present either.”

  “Present? Jillian, I told you I didn’t want you buying me a present,” he replied, pulling me back into his arms. “I have everything I want.”

  “Trust me. You don’t have this. But if you’re going to be a brat, I’ll just give it to you some other time.”

  I pushed off his chest, attempting to wriggle away, but his grip around my waist only tightened.

  “I can be very persuasive,” he said lowly. My body was suddenly heavy in his arms as I felt his warm breath against my ear. He still had that affect on me.

  “If you don’t stop that, we’ll never get to…wherever we’re going,” I replied, not sounding particularly convincing. “And I’m hungry.”

  “Mmmm,” he groaned, dragging his lips along my jaw. “Me too.”

  “Luke,” I panted, torn between wanting him and knowing that an anniversary celebration where we didn’t leave the bar was lame. “Dinner.”

  I felt him laugh against my skin, shaking his head and pressing his lips one more time against my throat.

  “We’ll finish this later,” he muttered, issuing a threat that wasn’t very threatening.

  When he looked up at me and smiled, I thought back to the black and white picture on the Facebook profile that now never happened. I remembered wanting so badly to be the one that made him happy. I wanted to be the one that made him smile with his eyes. Now though, his smile—the one I saw every day—was even better. It wasn’t black and white, but real and mine.

  The night he proposed to me, Luke told me that time didn’t mean anything to us. Little did he know, the laws of physics didn’t mean anything to us either. I would never understand how I ended up where I was or why, but I believed everything happened for a reason. I believed that I was always supposed to be here—in his arms—gazing at the creases in the corner of his eyes. I would never grow tired of that place.

  “Do you know when I first realized I had fallen in love with you?” he asked, suddenly serious. “That day in Tacoma. I wanted to break Dice’s hands every time he touched you, and don’t think I didn’t notice how he looked at you.”

  “If I remember correctly,” I replied. “He was the first one to call me out about my feelings for you. He didn’t think he could compete.”

  “I’d have liked to see him try. I was pretty determined,” he said, laughing to himself. He looked up at me, long lashes and deep green eyes. “I wouldn’t have given him a chance, Jillian. I always knew.”

  One of the things I loved about Luke the most was that he said exactly what he felt, exactly when he was feeling it. He never held back with me so I didn’t with him. I reached for him, pulling him toward me, kissing him until I was breathless. After all this time and all we’d been through, something so little still meant so much.

  “I love you,” I said, holding him close and smiling against his soft lips as my hands began to wander.

  “Jillian,” he said, backing away and holding me at arm’s length. “I’m going to have to ask you to settle down.” He was fighting to keep a straight face, but it wasn’t working. “There’s no time for groping. Is it always about sex with you? Try to get a hold of yourself.”

  Mr. Sex-on-the-Bar was mocking me, and that was the last straw. Pouncing, I dug my fingers into the skin on either side of his ribs until he doubled over, trying desperately to beg for mercy. Luke, I had learned, was ridiculously ticklish. I found the sensitive spots along his sides in the dark when I would run my fingers along his back, memorizing the dips and curves of his muscles. While I had hoped to make him moan, he would twist and giggle instead. It took a little time to discover that Luke was ticklish everywhere. I didn’t use his weakness against him often—only when I really needed to get my way, or if he really pissed me off. Like now.

  I stepped away, satisfied that I had enacted my revenge. “We’ll finish this later,” I added, mimicking him.

  “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat,” he laughed, grabbing my hand and walking us out the door and over to the adjacent lot.

  “I know you said you’re starving,” he began, climbing into his car, “but dinner isn’t until seven.”

  “Seven? Luke. It’s only four.”

  “Yeah, we have some time to kill.”

  I didn’t ask a lot of questions as we passed through the city. We had decided earlier in the week that we wouldn’t do anything really extravagant. We were breaking ground soon, building what Luke called our Little Love Shack. The “Little” Love Shack was going to be over three thousand square feet and perched upon a cliff. Now was not the time to blow a ton of cash on a flashy dinner. I didn’t need that. I never needed that. I just wanted to be together.

  Instead of pulling into one of the hundreds of restaurants in the city, we quickly passed the city limits and headed toward the highway which really confused me. Just because I didn’t want him splurging on a five-course tasting menu at the Ritz didn’t mean we needed to leave the area altogether. I was pretty certain that Seattle had quite a few romantic, yet practical, places to eat. We owned one of them, for God’s sake.

  When Luke began taking the route towards the 101, I knew where we were headed. I just didn’t understand why.

  “We’re going to Reynolds?” I asked. “Are you making Grace cook for us?”

  “I’m offended that you would think I’d stoop to something so pedestrian,” he replied, theatrically bringing his palm to his chest.

  “Grace’s cooking is not pedestrian.”

  “Jillian, we eat at the restaurant all the time. I think you have your fair share of Grace’s food. What type of anniversary dinner would that be?”

  He had a point, but still, heading to Reynolds was surprising. While he didn’t know this yet, I figured we’d be making a trip there tomorrow to see our families—they’d want to hear the news in person. We’d obviously be spending a great deal of time in the car this weekend.

  Despite being a little hungry when we set out, time seemed to fly and we were suddenly on the familiar stretch of road leading into Tacoma.

  “I’m thinking of getting another tattoo,” Luke announced as we passed Ink Credible Art.

  “Oh, really? Is it a tramp stamp? Oh, oh! A rose? Maybe a butterfly. No! Tinkerbell.”

  “Are you done?”

  “Maybe. No.”

  “I like your Celtic cross design.”

  “Luke, it’s totally weird if you get a cross, too. I’m just saying.”

  “I’m not getting a cross,” he replied, losing patience. “I like the design. Something Celtic,” he added. “Maybe our initials in a knot.”

  I was really overwhelmed that he had been considering something so permanent. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that a tattoo solidified a relationship. I mean, everyone remembers Johnny Depp’s Winona Forever and how th
at worked out for him. But I already knew we were solid. I knew we were permanent. He was my Forever, and I didn’t need the ink to prove that. I just liked that he wanted it anyway.

  “I love that,” I replied, although I wondered how that design would change once he heard the news.

  We passed through Tacoma without stopping. I was convinced that he was going to take me to The Greasy Spoon or somewhere we had gone back in the day. There was really no place to eat in Reynolds unless he wanted to eat at a strip mall, and despite having warned him about overdoing this first anniversary thing, a strip mall was not where I wanted to spend it—especially in light of the conversation we were about to have.

  “Luke, where are we—”

  “You, my beautiful, sexy wife, need to relax. And in approximately five minutes, you’ll know exactly where we’re going.”

  Sure enough, when we passed the overgrown entrance to the cliffs, he pulled over, parking along the road when his car wasn’t able to make it through the brush.

  Walking around to the trunk, he pulled an insulated tote out of the back and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Can you grab the blanket for me?”

  Grinning from ear to ear, I grabbed the soft, plaid blanket from the trunk and followed Luke as he ducked under branches and boughs until he reached the clearing.

  We had never come back here. There was always a reason not to, and truth be told, I felt somewhat guilty. Luke told me that once I left, he couldn’t drive past this place without thinking of me, the car, and that night. It was too painful. I hated that I ruined it for him.

  As we walked through the tall grass, I could hear waves crashing below. The moon was high and full, casting a pale glow across the water. Finding a spot in along the rocky edge, I spread the blanket out as Luke unzipped the cooler and began to unload the contents.