Page 141 of Take This Heart
I hear a loud truck and break the kiss, excited for her to see my surprise. She doesn’t know I commissioned artists to take my mini sculptures, the ones I made for her park model, and turned them into life-size pieces. They’ll live here where I envisioned, a piece of both of us.
“I better talk to these guys,” I tell her.
“What are they delivering? I didn’t have any deliveries on the schedule.”
“You’ll see,” I say, grinning.
Once I’ve directed the guys on where to take the sculptures, they get to work.
Goldie gasps when she sees what they’re carrying. She sees the marigold first and then the sun.
“Wait…is that—?” Her whole face lights up.
I help the crew position them, checking with her to make sure they’re where she wants them, and she just nods, blinking back tears.
They’re beautiful. Even better than I hoped. Art tucked into nature, just like she wanted.
“Milo,” she says, her voice cracking. “They’re perfect.”
I move toward her and pull her back against my chest.
“This is why you were in Minneapolis?”
I lean my chin lightly on her head. “I gave the final approval online last week and then went to see them in person yesterday.”
She turns in my arms and buries her face in my chest. Her face is splotchy when she looks up and I brush a kiss against her pouty lips.
“You make me feel like all the parts of me that are too much or too weird are exactly right,” she says.
“I’m glad because youarejust right. You’re exceptional.”
“I feel like there needs to be a plaque in the middle of all the other plants I’m going to surround this place with…and maybe a bench. And the plaque will say something like:Milo Lombardi Steals My Heart Every Day.Or maybeMilo Lombardi’s Grand Gesture.
I laugh. “I’d be proud of either one of those. I especially like the first one.” I kiss her again. “I intend on stealing your heart every day…”
She takes my hand and we walk closer to the sculptures. Her fingers trail along the smooth steel like she’s touching magic.
“If you want them shifted at all, we can move them. Any direction, any spot. They’re yours. If you want them in your yard one day, we can move them there.”
“They’re perfect right here, where you envisioned them.”
I slide my hand in hers and squeeze it. “I’ve got one more thing. If you’ve got time to take a quick drive.”
She gives me a lopsided smile. “You’re outdoing yourself, Mildie.”
We walk to the SUV and take the quickest route to her lot. It’s my favorite of all the lots and not just because it’s hers. There isn’t a bad choice on the property, but this one has gorgeous trees where I imagine the house going and a larger beach area closer to the water.
She squints at me curiously when we stop there.
I reach into the back seat and pull out a folder. And then I step outside and walk around, opening her door. She gets out, still dabbing her face from her earlier tears. I hand her the folder carefully, suddenly nervous.
She opens it slowly. And then her breath catches.
I watch her flip through the sketches—floor plans, elevations, little swatches of wood tones she’s mentioned. Her kitchen, and her sunroom with a window seat. The screened porch with twinkle lights already drawn in.
“Right there,” she says, pointing where the porch would go.
Her dream house. Down to the arched gate she showed me one time in a magazine and said, “That is totally my vibe.”
