Page 71 of Holiday Wedding
“You asked me if I was wearing Depends, the adult underwear. I’m only 34!”
My mouth twitches. “You have to admit—that was kind of funny.”
“It was funny. I thoughtyouwere funny and beautiful and smart. I watched you all day, skipping through that park like a kid with your skirt swishing and those long legs of yours. All that gorgeous skin. I had to remind myself constantly that I was supposed to keep track of Caleb, not you.” He tilts his head, his gaze sharpening. “You still haven’t remembered the flowers.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and cast my mind back. “You mean after the pollen incident? You put a flower in my hair, behind my ear.” I can picture that blossom now. Its delicate petals were peach with a faint blush of red at the base, exactly like the ones at the flower market.
“What did I say to you about that?” His hand gently cups my calf. I glance down, enjoying the way his pale fingers contrast against my skin. Dean drags his thumb over me. His touch distracts me.
Think, I tell myself.Think.
After a minute, it comes to me. “You said something about how women in Hawaii put the flower over one ear if they’re taken and the other if they’re single, but you never told me which ear was which.”
He smiles, pleased I got it right. “A flower behind the right ear means the woman is available. Behind the left ear means they’re dating, engaged, or married. I spent a year stationed on Oahu after boot camp.”
“You tucked the flower behind my ear.” I lift my hand, mimicking what he did that day. My heart had stuttered when he brushed back my hair and stuck the blossom in. I didn’t know it then, but it was the closest I would get to him for years.
“Which ear?”
I can almost feel it, that phantom bloom, and how his breath had ghosted over my face.
“Which ear did I place the flower behind?” Dean breathes out, his eyes locked on mine.
I gasp when I realize it’s my left hand I’m holding to my ear.
He nods and says, “It was your left side. I claimed you back then, even though I had no right.” His eyes drop to my leg, where his fingers are so long they can wrap around my ankle and still overlap.
“As for the rest, I already told you. After that day, I knew you were a weakness I couldn’t afford, more for your sake than mine. I found reasons to be mad at you, to keep us apart.”
I’m stunned, my heart at his feet. Any reservations I have melt away by that story of long-ago Dean pining after long-ago me.
“I wanted you then, Jenny. I want you now.” There are flames in his eyes, the steady glow of a bonfire at night.
“You said my name. Jenny. You’ve been saying it the past few days.” I twist my fingers together in my lap, overcome by all the confessions from this last hour, but even more overcome by the idea that someone might want me. Choose me just as I am.
“Did I?” His smile solidifies, becomes brighter.
“Yes. The first time was when we…um…” I’m awkward, cheeks flushing at the memory of our first kiss.
“We what?” he teases.
“You know,” I can’t look at him. If I see that dimple, I’ll lose it.
“Kissed?” A husky chuckle.
I nod, blushing furiously.
“Jenny’s not what I want to call you.”
My head swings his way. It’s been such a blissful couple of days. I swear if he says something aggravating right now… With trepidation, I ask, “What do you want to call me?”
“Mine,” Dean says.
“I want to call you mine.”
26
Tuesday,December 24
