Anything but Minor (33 page)

Rafe and I spent hours in bed eating, sleeping, and laughing as we fell back into our old groove. I lied to myself every minute, pretending it would last. That it wasn’t temporary. That he didn’t have a flight to catch in mere hours.

Rafe lay next to me, screwing with his cell phone as I kissed the hard planes of his stomach and chest. Then threw the covers over both of our heads, making a tent with the blanket. Rafe’s eyes drifted over me with amusement as I sat in the middle of our makeshift teepee.

“No cell phones allowed in the tent, sir.”

“Give me two minutes.”

I cupped his balls and squeezed. Rafe’s stomach surged and he let out a grunt and dropped his phone on his chest.

“Baby, we need to talk.”

I shook my head and cut him off. “They can have you back in a few hours, Rafe. I mean, you
are
leaving soon.” I hadn’t meant for my voice to sound so desperate, but he heard it.

Careful eyes watched me, and I turned away from him briefly and pulled the tent down. “Damn it. I’m sorry.”

“Alice,” he whispered as he tugged at my hand. “I want to take a picture.”

“I’m not in the mood to smile, Rafe.” Even hours after he swore to me our arrangement wasn’t working, he was still returning to Denver, and our future remained unchanged. I didn’t want to dwell on it, though I was furious with him.

He sat up and kicked his legs over the bed and crossed the room, gloriously naked, until he reached his tote. He pulled out a tiny glove and some boxers then walked back over to me.

I perked up a bit as I studied what was in his hand. “That’s it?”

He smiled at me warmly as he pulled his boxers on and tossed it to me. He knelt by the bed as I studied it.

“So small,” I noted as I attempted to shove my hand in. Rafe lifted his camera, and I heard the phone click just as I felt the warm, circular metal inside.

Stunned, I looked at him as he pulled me down to the edge of the bed and then stood me before him as I pulled the ring from the glove, my chin quivering.

“Alice,” he whispered as he choked on my name. I looked down at him with tears streaming down my face and a loud yes on the tip of my tongue. His eyes watered as he strained to get the words out. In that moment, I felt justified for every minute I spent waiting, every second I mourned and missed him, and every second before when I dreamt of a someday with a version of him that he’d already surpassed. He pulled the ring from my hand and kissed my ring finger twice—the way he had just before he left. I didn’t realize it then, but he’d made me a silent promise.

“I have a new future in my head and it has to be with you. I want you with me. I want this, us, for as many seasons as we have. I love you more,” he whispered as he pulled the glove away from my hand and made sure I caught his meaning. “I love you so much more. Marry me?”

I nodded and whispered yes as I gripped him to me and kissed him like I no longer had to pretend, because I didn’t and I would never have to as long as I had Rafe.

Later that day on a flight to Denver, Rafe and I clasped hands and spoke of our future. After a tongue lashing in the best way due to my omission about leaving my job, and an even sweeter exchange about the fact that I had no obligations left to keep me in Charleston, he insisted we start our life immediately and packed my bags for Denver with assurance we would figure out the rest later. Rafe had been just as miserable with the distance as I had and wanted no part of the wait it would take to get me to Denver. And I had no issue whatsoever with his argument.

My wait was over.

I helped him pack me, the only setback being to keep my clothes on while we did it. We’d barely made the flight.

Rafe fell asleep on the plane as I looked out of the window with the same hope and elation as I had when I landed in Charleston six months ago. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would attend a baseball game that would change the course of my life so drastically. I admired my ring and then did the same as I looked over at my beautiful fiancée. I leaned in with a whisper, “I made you a seahorse.” I chuckled as a slow, sleep-filled smile covered his face and he drifted off again.

It was the best day of my life.

Our wedding was a disaster, truly. It was an intimate, outdoor ceremony held at Dutch’s place in Charleston. Though we’d move to Denver only a few weeks after Rafe’s season ended, it seemed fitting we married in the place we fell so deeply in love. I actually felt a fondness for Denver, much like Charleston, though Rafe had strong objections to my new zest for an attempt at skiing and snowboarding, and any other activity that I wanted to try that he wasn’t present for.

Charleston was ideal for both of us, and though we’d chosen early spring, two weeks before training began, a sudden heat wave had made an unwelcomed visit on our big day. So, while the groomsmen perspired in their tuxedos, my bridesmaids continued to cater to me by moving my dress out of the way while I peed...every two minutes.

Just as my nerves calmed and I floated down the aisle toward the most handsome groom ever, a massive thunderstorm hit. The wedding party and I, along with our drenched guests, made a mad dash for the picturesque barn we’d purchased specifically for the occasion. The doors on each side were open and helped to create a wind tunnel of epic proportions. Our four-tiered wedding cake and thousands in linens and décor toppled to the floor as the DJ, who assumed we were wed, scrambled to put on our song. “Free” played as Rafe grabbed my hand amongst the chaos while the others moved fruitlessly to close the doors and salvage what was left of months of planning. I could see the disappointment in Rafe’s eyes as we danced, but it wasn’t his own. It was for me. I looked up to my minutes-away husband in my designer wedding dress with a huge smile on my face.

“You don’t have to hide it from me,” he whispered as he dripped from head to toe in a mix of sweat and rain.

“Best day of my life, Mr. Hembrey. What do you say we find that preacher man and make it official?”

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered with relief as his lips descended.

“Ah ah ah, you’re going to have to wait for that kiss.”

After our week long and amazing honeymoon in Ireland, we had a small party at Andy’s bar to celebrate what had to be the worst wedding photos in history. Every single one, though perfectly lit and edited, showed the complete and utter disarray of the night. We’d all gotten gloriously drunk as it went on, so the pictures became legendary. Andy had blown them all up and placed them strategically around the bar as Rafe and I made our way around it. The laughter never stopped as we saw one horrid shot after the other. April soaked in her maid of honor dress, holding my destroyed bouquet with a cheeky grin. The well-tailored groomsmen with red stains on their white dress shirts from their corsages. Andy stood at the front of the line, a Cheshire smile in place as he twisted the nipple of Waters, who stood next to him, the agony clear on his features. The next picture showed my mother and her Uber driver turned live-in boyfriend and next minute fiancé taking cover under his jacket and laughing while doing so. Another candid picture displayed proudly the steady stream of guests and the horror on their faces as they ran in every direction to seek shelter from the lightning. Another shot was displayed of a pile of the muddied shoes of every guest at the wedding. Another showcased a perfectly captured ceramic bride and baseball clad groom on the floor of the barn, both buried in cake and debris. An eye brow raising shot of Andy and April was captured as they stood in front of the restroom, their posture intimate and hair mused up by more than the weather as they held hands—a story I still hadn’t managed to pry from either of them.

Each photo represented the chaos and the resilient vibe of the day. The feeling inside that barn was the exact opposite of the weather. There wasn’t a disappointed face in the group. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

Rafe and I both paused at the last photo, hands clasped as we studied it. It was when we were announced man and wife and Rafe whispered “No end” to me. I smiled at him intimately just before the shutter was pressed and seconds before Rafe gave me the best kiss of my life. My wedding dress was caked in mud on the bottom and Rafe was clearly still dripping wet, but the looks on our faces could never be mistaken. It was the picture of a man and woman deeply in love and excited about their future. Rafe looked over to me, his hazel eyes filled with the same adoration reflected in the picture as the bar filled with another bout of laughter. And right before he gave me another kiss that could stop time, I couldn’t help but to think: freeze frame, cue Thompson Twins “If You Were Here” and fade to black.

Rafe: What are you doing?

Alice: Looking for a four leaf clover.

Rafe: ☺ Any luck?

Alice: No, but I think I’m close.

Rafe: I’m sure you’ll find it.

Alice: I better, I’m aging by the minute.

Rafe: I miss you.

Alice: Stop whining and get ready to pitch a perfect game.

Rafe: Someone misses me, too.

Alice: You got that from my text?

Rafe: Of course. Did you find it?

I opened the closet next to the front door of our expansive house and heard a loud squeal then quickly texted Rafe as our little girl waddled past me with a loud shriek as I lunged for her.

Alice: Found her!

“Clover,” I protested with a grin as she ran through the house in nothing but her diaper. She was very much like her father in that she loved to be naked. I chased after her and she shrieked as I gained on her, a Denver t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts in hand.

“Come on, baby girl, we have to get dressed. We’re going on the plane to see daddy!”

Clover stopped her feet, and though her looks and personality were more Rafe, I was sure it was the
plane
part that stopped her in her tracks. She looked up to me and raised her chubby arms so I could fit the shirt over her head. I looked into Rafe’s hazel eyes as I brushed through her dark brown hair and secured it into tiny pigtails.

My phone buzzed again, and I sighed in defeat when Clover again took off with only the improvement of a shirt and fixed hair.