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“Hi, I’m An—I’m Drew,” I say, raising my hand. “I, uh, apologize for my lack of suit. Just came from the airport. Thought I’d say a few words off the cuff, if you don’t mind.” I hear a “go on” and “the floor is yours” from audience members. “I didn’t know Mr. Clark well. We lived in the same building, one floor apart. But I knew Rascal, and I had the honor of hearing a story of his a few weeks back. One about his wife.” People start shifting in their seats, looking bored. I clear my throat and grip the sides of the podium for support. “I’ll never forget that conversation because although it was brief, it was memorable. He said that life is not just about collecting stories but about making memories worth sharing one day. Since that conversation, I’ve realized that with my current life trajectory, I won’t have a story worth telling to my grandkids other than I went to work and came home. That’s not living. That’s not worth telling anyone.”

I look right at Juni and make it count. “Juni, you woke me up from the sleep I’d been in. We haven’t known each other long in the scheme of a lifetime, but I like creating stories, memories with you better than working seventy, eighty hours a week. I like when you wear your hair on top of your head, and it’s a mess. I like the hard time you give me when I give too much of myself to the company. The green of your eyes first thing in the morning and the pink of your cheeks after we make love match the leaves of the rose Calathea.”

She’d been steady in her expression, keeping it neutral until now. That pink I mentioned colors the apples of her cheeks, and the lines from sadness soften. Her gaze had stretched into the distance, but now her eyes are set on me.

I continue, “Mr. Clark was a wild man from what it sounds like, but it worked for him. I’m not sure I could get away with the same, but I think he’s leaving a good motto to follow. He also said to stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling. Don’t wait for the perfect moment and stop beating around the bush. Solid advice for everyday life. Ah, a rhyme,” I add, feeling the heat of embarrassment sink its claws in me.

This time when I look at Juni, she holds three fingers in front of her chest. With a proud nod, a full smile appears. I don’t know why she’s proud or why she’s smiling, but it gives me hope that I’m doing something right, so I keep rambling. “I’m not sure how Mr. Clark knew the right thing to say the day we met, but this stuck with me the most. He said, if you love her, tell her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her. Fuck, that’s good stuff.” Giggles ripple across the crowd. “Oh, sorry. Anyway,” I start again, one of Juni’s favorite words rolling off my tongue as if it’s one of mine as well. Looking at her with tears in her eyes, the light that shined in them that first day I met her has returned. “I love you so much, Juni. I don’t want to create stories with anyone else but you.”

Feeling invincible, I push off the podium and walk to her pew. “May I?” She nods, so I sit beside her, perhaps taking my first real breath in a week. I don’t say anything. There’s not much left other than a few important details to work through privately. But when she reaches over and slides her hand in mine, I know I’ll get that chance.

You’d think I was a superhero with all the back pats and congrats I was getting outside on the sidewalk. The mourners have gone, and Gil’s been helping Juni wrap up after the minister spoke. He comes trotting down the steps and says, “Mr. Clark would have approved.”

“What about you?” Gil’s a father figure to Juni. His opinion matters to me.

He replies, “Way to make it count. I’ll see you two tomorrow. I have a date at home.”

“You didn’t have to wait.”

I turn to see Juni, dressed in a black dress, standing on the top step. Rascal sits at her side on his leash.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I say, “I don’t mind waiting for you.” I don’t think the double meaning is lost on either of us. A gentle smile works its way onto her face as she comes down the steps.

She stops on the last one, closer to eye level with me but not quite. “He left Rascal to me.”

I look down at the dog who’s staring at me like he’s enamored. He’s the strangest and cutest dog I’ve ever seen. “He knew you’d take good care of him. You already were.”

Kneeling, she strokes the top of his head. “Who’s a good boy? You are.” When she stands again, she asks, “Did you mean everything you said?”

“Every word.”

“You still left, Andrew.”

I let the name slide because I understand she has reasons to be mad.Reasons to feel abandoned.“I left because I didn’t see there was an alternative. And I wouldn’t have learned that had I not gone. I wouldn’t have learned that I’m not indispensable and that although my role requires I look after the business and its employees, there are more important things in my life to me. You.Us.” Taking hold of her hands, I say, “Travel is required with the company, but if you give me this second chance, you’ll know that I’ll look at each scenario and consider more clearly if it’s my pride that decides if I go or if I’m a necessity. Because you are essential to me.”

She sighs, her chest laden with heaviness. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to check with me to do your job. I just want to know that at the end of it, you’re returning to me. That’s what commitment means to me.”

“Commitment means trusting that I will, not believing I won’t.”

When she nods and her shoulders lighten, she leans closer. “The wires were crossed in a chain of painful events. I confused commitment leading to abandonment. That’s not everyone’s fate. That was my parents. I had no right to project that onto you.”

Her arms come around my neck, and there’s only enough room for a small papillon between us. Juni says, “My parents lived a full life, lived for every day, and made the most of it. I thought they were selfish and didn’t want me. But they were showing me how to live all along. No tomorrow is guaranteed. And like Mr. Clark said, the only regret I’ll have is wasting time without you in it.”

I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get another chance to have my lips against hers again. And she kisses me.

When our lips part and she opens her eyes, she says, “I’m proud of you for accomplishing number three.”

Left-field tangent. It’s good some things never change. “I didn’t understand what you meant when you held three fingers for me.”

She comes down the final step and hooks her arm in mine. “You performed in front of an audience. It was a spectacular performance as well. Guy gets girl and then chooses his boring work over her.”

“Destiny steps in, and he has a revelation.”

“And what might that be?”

I stop and cup her cheeks. “I love you, babe.” I kiss her again, and when I look into her eyes, they’re watery.

“I love you, Drew.” Those are the sweetest four words I’ve ever heard. And I don’t know what’s happening, but something must be in the air because my eyes are watery as well.