Here He Comes Again

by Melissa Shirley

  As soon as I no longer resembled a cartoon Martian, I dialed Simon.

  Chapter 25

  Present September 2009

  I trusted Simon with one job. Get Keaton to my apartment. While I knew it wouldn’t require the skills needed to thumb wrestle a gorilla, nerves trembled through my body. What if he didn’t come? Maybe I’d waited too long. A hundred more what-ifs hung around in my mind, wreaking havoc on my quivering hands and my rasping breath.

  I brushed the doubts away. He would come because he’d loved me since…well, since forever. He knew how we worked. We fought, then made up. I got mad. He asked for forgiveness. We made up. With closed eyes, I prayed he remembered, and that I hadn’t blown this one last chance with Keaton. My stomach shifted as I sent up an extra request to the heavens.

  When the clock ticked an hour and a half beyond the time Simon said he would be there, I started to worry for real.

  I’d bought every candle I could find at the local Wal-Mart, and they cast dancing shadows on my walls. Soft jazz music played in the background, and all I needed to complete my perfect picture was Keaton. I waited another half hour, then called Simon. When he answered, I almost shouted into the receiver. “Where the heck are you? Is he not coming?”

  “Settle down. We’re here now. We just pulled in.” He hung up.

  I opened the door and stood nervously in the kitchen, wringing my hands, cracking my knuckles, fisting and un-fisting my fingers. Simon got Keaton to the door, then circled around and left.

  “Hey.” His voice shook and his eyes were red.

  “Hi. Come in.”

  He stood by the door waiting, wearing a frown I never wanted to see again.

  “Please?”

  Cautiously, he stepped over the threshold, then looked around while I looked at him. His eyes reflected such sadness; I brushed away a sliver of guilt at knowing I bore equal responsibility. His hair was adorably tousled as though his fingers engaged in battle with each strand. He’d lost the glimmers of happiness usually surrounding him.

  “Did you invite me over for a prayer vigil?”

  “It’s for romance, silly.” My voice refused to rise to more than a whisper.

  “You’re going to set off the sprinklers.” The slightest hint of a smile bent his lips. The glimmer peeked out.

  “Well, it would be less romantic, but I’m willing to take the risk.” I took his hand and led him to the chair. “Sit.” He surprised me when he did without a word of protest. “I owe you an apology.”

  His head snapped up to look at me. “An apology?” In fairness, his surprise wasn’t all that unreasonable. I’m sorry definitely wasn’t my catch phrase.

  “Yes. An apology. I blamed you and some damn kiss for breaking us up, but the truth is I didn’t fight for you, or for us, and I’m sorry. I shouldn't have kicked you out. I should have kicked your ass.” Emotion choked me as I tried to smile. I swallowed back the lump in my throat and swiped at my tears. “But, Keaton, I lost you once and it almost destroyed me. I can’t risk going through it again.”

  He nodded, his face still masked in sadness, and I knew he’d misunderstood the point to this visit. “I understand.” He stood.

  “I don’t think you do.” I smiled. “I think you need to hear the rest. It’s time we got this straight.”

  He plopped back down in the chair, looking more beaten and abused than when he walked in my door. “Like I said, I can’t risk losing you again, so I am asking you to promise me you won’t leave. This time, no matter what happens, we fight for us.”

  He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes.

  “Yes. I want to marry you again. Give me back my ring. More than anything else, I want to be your wife, and I want babies and a house with a yard and a dog. Not a big dog or one that sheds. Maybe not a dog at all. Unless it’s an outside dog.” I planned to keep rambling on and on until he said something. “But then you know you have to clean the yard all the time. Maybe a cat. Cat’s pretty much clean up after themselves, but they aren’t safe with babies. I don’t know. Maybe not a pet. We could have an extra baby instead.”

  Finally, he lifted his head to look at me and said, “Are you screwing with me?”

  “Nope. I’m serious.” I held my breath, waiting for an answer that didn’t seem to be coming.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  He looked smug, but his face in my apartment was enough to make me smile right back at him.

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “It’s kind of my job to do the asking. You know that, right?” He still hadn’t moved.

  “Says who?”

  “Well, the guy is supposed to ask. This isn’t an episode of Friends.” Finally, he stood and moved a step closer to me.

  “Well, go ahead and ask then.”

  He pretended to pout. “No. It’s too late. You already stole my thunder.” Another step.

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t take the chance on you changing your mind.” I smiled. “Technically, you asked me first a couple of weeks ago, right?”

  He took the last step, closing the gap between us.

  “It’s okay, I guess.” He pulled me into his arms. “This time it’s forever.”

  “Oh, you can count on that.”

  Meet the Author

  As an author, Melissa Shirley believes in fairytales, happily ever after, and destiny. Born and raised in Illinois, and a mother of eight, she lives with her husband and three youngest children in a quiet town in the southern part of the state where she spends her time writing and watching her children grow into the people she has always dreamed.