Page 105 of Infinite as They Come
My eyes darted left and right. Where to look next? There was so much to see, so much to take in and remember and feel all over again like it was the first time. There were the notes from high school, his messy handwriting scrawled across bits of ripped paper.
We should ditch and make out in my truck.
You look extra pretty today, Pom Poms.
You’re gonna make me fail this quiz. Can’t stop looking at you. I was gonna fail anyway but still. Give a guy a chance.
There were some random drawings. Some silly, like the one of me in my cheer uniform and my pom poms tight in my hands. Some where it was obvious he had put in more effort, like the one where I had been resting my chin in my hand, eyes fused to whatever quiz or book I had been forced to focus on that week. It was all careful, soft lines. Texture, shading, lighting. He had probably spent that whole class—English, I was pretty sure—just looking at me and drawing.
There was the rock he bought me back in Saratoga Springs. The love letter he had written me that one disastrous Christmas. The ticket from the first county fair he had taken me to.
The box wasn’t just filled with things he had given me, though. There were some mementos Sawyer didn’t want to get rid of either, and I lovedthat all our most important memories were all stashed away in the same safe place. There were some notes I had slipped to Sawyer in class. My little failed attempts at drawing that he for some reason couldn’t get enough of. The article I had written about him way back in high school, the paper neatly folded up like it was so precious to him. I liked having our things all mixed together. The different colored notes and photos and little nick knacks, all bright and vibrant, a rainbow of memories there on my lap. I could almost feel myself falling right back into those moments, deep and fast and headfirst.
My hand grasped the napkin sitting by me on the bed, unfolding it carefully. It was a drawing. Me in a party hat, him in one too. Us kissing, lips pressed together, a few scatterings of balloons across the top with his handwriting at the bottom.
You’re not supposed to tell people your wish, but mine already came true years ago, so I guess it’s okay. I don’t need any more birthday wishes. You can have all my future ones if you want. I’ve got you and that’s all I need. I’ll love you forever.
My eyes started to water before I could put a stop to it. Holding the napkin to my chest, to where all that warmth was swimming around in me, I kept it there for a short moment. When I finally managed to fight off those tears, I pressed my lips to the corner of the napkin, leaving behind a pink lipstick stain right next to his words. Me and Sawyer both had a habit of looking through the box, sometimes on our own, sometimes together. The next time he went through it, he’d see that print of my lips.
Carefully, I laid the napkin into the box, letting it cover all those pieces of me and Sawyer’s history. All the notes and photos and tickets and letters. Our stuff being mixed together felt so right. Him, mine, ours. It was all ours now, and I didn’t want that with anyone else but him.
Sliding the lid on, I put the box back where I found it, where it was safe and sound. I turned, just about to move back out and meet Sawyer when I saw him standing in the doorway.
“There you are,” he said. “I thought you got lost back here or something.”
I stared at him for a too long moment, taking him in. Green eyes. Dark hair that could never be tamed even with a million brushes. Crooked, perfect smile that still made my heart race. Flannel shirt pushed up to his elbows, showing me strong forearms. He still gave me butterflies.
“I was just about to come out,” I finally said.
Grabbing my hand, he pressed it to his lips. “I’ll lead the way.”
We were outside before I knew it. The porch lights were all the glow I needed as Sawyer sat down on the swing he had set up not too long after we moved in. White cushions covered it, all soft and plush, making it the perfect place to sit after a long day. Me and Sawyer did that a lot. Hung out on the porch, taking in the cool breeze, and sometimes I’d fall asleep right there on his lap and wake up back in our bed, warm and cozy and safe.
Sawyer patted his thighs and I wasted no time sitting by him, shifting so I could rest my head on his lap. Long fingers moved through my hair, sweeping some of the strands back behind my ears. It made my eyes flutter shut.
“Happy birthday, Sawyer,” I whispered.
He hummed, fingers still moving through my locks. “Thank you, princess. Thanks for today. For making it so special. It was a good day.”
It had felt special. His family and mine coming together, with not even a hint of drama. Just laughter, smiles, memories. I always made the best memories with Sawyer.
“Your note was really sweet,” I said, skin feeling warm as I remembered his words.
“Are you blushing?” he asked, a thumb stroking across my cheek.
“I am. You’re the only one who makes me blush like this. It’s your best skill.”
“You look so damn cute when you blush, Mrs. Westbrook.”
That just made my cheeks feel even hotter. Sawyer had been right when he said Holly Westbrook sounded good. It had a ring to it I wasn’t ever going to get over.
“I really like being called that,” I said.
“I really like calling you that.”
“I really like being your wife.”
“I really like being your husband.”
