A small sob escaped through my lips as I placed my hands over Tristan’s. “Tristan,” I whispered as he pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was slow, soft, and utterly romantic. How can he even say he doesn’t sweep me off my feet?
Pulling away, he whispered against my lips. “Okay, I know what I want to say.” Dropping his hands, he quickly grabbed the bottle and made his way around the pool and into the house. I stood there stunned. I began to look around as if a joke was being played on me. Rushing into the house, I called out his name. “Tristan?”
“In the office, baby.”
Making my way into the office, Tristan was behind the desk with a piece of paper and pen in his hand. Looking up he said, “I can’t talk, the words are flowing. You need to find a spot to write.”
Pulling my head back, I said, “Um . . . okay . . . well I’ll just go to the kitchen table I guess?”
Pushing a few pages of paper in my direction, he nodded his head. Trying not to laugh, I took the paper and headed to the kitchen.
Sitting down at the table I stared at the paper.
Nothing.
Picking up the paper, I headed outside and sat on the deck overlooking the ocean.
Nothing.
Oh shit. Here Tristan was pouring his heart to me in words and I sat here with not a single thing written down.
Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. I thought back to the first time I’d ever seen Tristan. The first time he kissed me, made love to me, looked at me like I was his everything, and the first time he told me he loved me.
Opening my eyes, I looked out over the ocean and smiled. Picking up my pen, I began writing.
Dear Tristan,
I sat here for what seemed like forever, trying to put into words how I feel about you, our hopes, dreams, and desires of what our future will be.
I stared at the paper and nothing would come out. Then it hit me. Life is a journey, much like the journey of love that we will embark on ourselves.
I look at my parents, and your parents, and even Lark and Azurdee. I see people who are madly in love. I also see human beings who will make mistakes and have regrets along their journey. I think what is important though is that they have each other during all of it. The good times and the bad times. They are each other’s strengths.
That is what I want our journey to be. A journey filled with lessons, mistakes, triumphs, good times, bad times, and most of all . . . a journey filled with love.
I’ll never be able to put into words how much I love you. I can show you though. I promise to show you every single day what your love does to me.
My hopes and desires for our journey are simple. A future filled with love and a lot of laughter. The smile on your face when I tell you we are expecting a child, the sound of our baby crying, the feel of your body next to mine every night as we fall asleep, and the touch of your hand when we walk along the beach in our later years.
I love you, Tristan. I promise to love you forever. I promise to never go to sleep when we are fighting, and I promise to always be your strength.
Love,
Kathryn
I wasn’t sure how long I had been sitting on the deck before I felt him behind me. Turning, I looked up and saw Tristan gazing down at me. “I wrote like six letters.”
Laughing, I pulled my knees up into my chest as I watched him sit across from me. “You wrote six letters? Damn. I only wrote one.”
Giving me a smirk, he shook his head. “No, I started writing at least six times, each time I tore it up.”
“Did you finish one?”
Peeking at me through his beautiful long eyelashes, he winked. “Yes, I did.”
“Can I read it?”
Lifting his eyebrow, he said, “Maybe we should draw straws.”
Giggling, I stood up. “Do we have straws?”
Glancing back toward the house, Tristan said, “If we do I have no idea where they would be.”
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
Tristan jumped. “Yes! I love that game.”
Tristan and I prepared our fists. “Ready?” I asked.
Tristan nodded his head as he adjusted his body and got ready to play. “Ready.”
“One, two, three, show!”
I had rock, Tristan had paper. Doing a fist pump he shouted, “Yes!”
Rolling my eyes, I started counting. “One, two, three, show!”
I had scissors and Tristan had paper. “Fuck! I fucking hate paper.”
Giggling, I said, “You won the first round with paper. How can you say you hate paper?”
“Just count, Ryn!”
Snarling my lip up at him, I said, “Gesh, man oh man. You really want to go first.”
