Page 13 of Red, White, and You

She smiles and rushes to shake my hand, clearly excited to meet me, as though…

I narrow my eyes and look back at Brady over my shoulder.

He grins proudly, standing tall.

As though he’s been telling her about me. As though he’s proud to introduce me.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Duffy says, shaking my hand vigorously.

My heart soars at the thought of him telling people about me, about us, then sinks heavily at the realization that it will only be harder to say our goodbyes at the end of the week.

I swallow hard, emotion thickening my throat. Forcing a smile, I try to get through the next few moments of awkward introductions without breaking into a million pieces.

Brady

The summer night hangs heavy with anticipation as the camp comes alive with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses. The Welcome Party is in full swing, and the atmosphere is electric. My favorite night of the week, Fridays hit a little differently. There’s just something about the energy of the first night of Camp West.

It’s intoxicating. Thrilling.

But tonight, it’s so much more. I’m torn between my duties as the camp host and the magnetic pull of Brielle Donovan-West, who stands across the room, a glass of her favorite pinot noir in hand and bright, curious eyes that follow my every move, completely oblivious to how many sets of eyes followherevery move. The way people watch my wife, naturally gravitate to her, hasn’t changed a bit. She’s as magnetic as she was twenty years ago, possibly even more so.

Brie is stunning, her honey-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders in gentle waves, and her hazel eyes sparkling with promise every time our gazes meet. Time has been kind to her, and the years apart have done nothing to diminish the fierce attraction I still feel for her. We’ve spent the past few hours reacquainting ourselves as I showed her around camp and introduced her to staff and guests both new and old, but as much as being with Brie feels familiar and natural,she still has her walls up. I’d be foolish to expect them to crumble within the first few hours of our reunion, but I am determined to show her that even after all this time, there’s no stronger love than the love we have between us.

I don’t have much of a plan after this week; I’m not even sure I believed I could get her here. I don’t know how we’ll manage once we have to say goodbye again, but she came, and that was the first step. Hell, that might even have been the most important step. Everything after will fall into place. It has to. Regardless of our vast differences, no two people have ever been more meant for one another than we are, and that has to count for something. Time apart has only strengthened my resolve.

She’s it for me, and I don’t want to waste another moment of this lifetime without her.

With a determined stride, I navigate through the throng of campers, the soft strains of live music guiding my way. The air is filled with a mixture of laughter, conversation, and the clatter of cutlery against plates. The aroma of grilled food wafts through the air, teasing my senses. I haven’t had time to sit down and eat yet, too determined to get through my duties as quickly as possible so I can sneak away with my wife.

As always, the gathering is a diverse mix of new and returning guests, their faces a blur as I move from group to group. I shake hands with newcomers, share hugs and stories with returning campers, all while keeping an eye on Brie as she begins to relax in the presence of Duffy and Jarron, two of my longest employees and closest friends.

I stop at the beer pong table to sink a ball with Craig and his crew, order them all a round of Jell-O shots on the house, then use the distraction to slip away and make a beeline for Brie.

She smiles as she watches me stride toward her, and my chest tightens around my heart. How have I existed without that smile all these years?

“Dance with me?” I extend my hand toward her.

Brie tilts her head, brows furrowing, and it occurs to me that the song isn’t really a dance number. Shrugging, I curl my fingers and raise my eyebrows in question.

Brie finishes her glass of wine and sets it on the table, slips her hand into mine, then stands. “I’ve never found 4 Non Blondes to be particularly romantic, but I do appreciate a good feminist anthem.”

Chuckling, I pull Brie against me and slide my arm around her waist, nuzzling my nose against her throat. “I’ve never known you to say no to a dance.”

“I didn’t say no.”

Twining our fingers together, I spin us in slow circles toward the dance floor. I’m vaguely aware of the watchful eyes of all the campers following our movement, but I ignore them.

They don’t matter. Nothing matters but the woman in my arms, and the way our bodies still fit together perfectly.

As if seeing our approach and sensing what needs to happen next, the band switches seamlessly into a different song, setting the mood for a slow one.

Brie looks up into my eyes and allows me to lead her around the floor in a simple two-step, our hips just inches apart, our bodies syncing as we move together to the beat of an old Johnny Lee ballad.

“You’re quite popular around here,” she says. “How long have you owned this place?”

“Eleven years.”

Brie’s eyes widen. “That long?”

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