Page 102 of Raised On It

“This is one of the best country songs ever recorded.”

“We’ve danced to this before.”

“Ah, so what you’re saying is you’ve burned every moment we’ve spent together into your memory bank?”

He leans in close, and the warmth of his breath on the shell of my ear sends the good kind of shiver down my spine.

“Me too, baby.”

We sway in time with the sweet song about a chair, but it’s over much too soon, and then we’re headed back in the direction of the exit sign.

It’s dark now, and the moment Miles shuts the truck door, the dark skies finally open up and the rain showers down on us.

“Shit! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay?”

He sends a text before putting the truck in drive.

The ride to his grandparents’ house is quiet. He’s in his head somewhere or just really, really hates rain. Not sure which, but his mood has taken a slight turn, and I decide to give him his space while he works it out.

Before long, the gravel road that leads to Elsie Lake is under our tires, and he still seems a little stressed.

He parks the truck, and I start to open the door, but he stops me and says he’ll be right back.

He runs into the house and is gone a couple of minutes before returning to the truck with an umbrella big enough for two.

“Miles, I could have run to the front door. You didn’t have to get an umbrella. I won’t melt.”

“I know, but we aren’t going in the house.”

“We aren’t?”

“Nope, I have a little surprise for you.”

“For me?”

“Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk? Right now, Miles?”

“Baby, just work with me on this, please?”

Oh boy, so there's a reason he’s pissed it’s raining, and me fighting him on it is stressing him out even more. What in the world is he up to?

“Sure, honey.”

We follow the path that takes us around the side of the house, and when we emerge in the backyard, the dock is lit up with hundreds of white lights. It’s absolutely beautiful.

“Miles, what in the world is going on?”

“Just wanted to do something special for you. Wasn’t expecting the rain, but we can work around it. Come on.”

We follow the pathway to the dock, the lights, and at the end, of course, two weathered Adirondack chairs.