Page 38 of I’ll Paint You a Sunset Someday

November 2045

Hallee

The Polaroid camera has risen above my comfort book to take the throne as my number one accessory. Dean forgot it on our last date and after we’d spent forty-five minutes backtracking to his apartment, I finally convinced him to let me keep it. There has to be tangible evidence of us. We deserve that.

Tipping the camera down, I snap a picture of our intertwined hands. Now I have proof that he usually walks on my left side. Sometimes he switches sides, claiming that if a car ever ventured off the road he would block it for me. The sentiment is cute so I play along, but the man is crazy if he thinks he’d actually stop a moving car. Regardless, I’d never hurt his pride by refusing to let him love me in this way.

Purposefully repeating a gesture from this time last year, I tap each of my fingers on the back of his hand. I’ve been doing that a lot lately—repeating past lives, convinced that something will trigger a memory for him.

There’ve been a few times where his eyes squint in this way that makes me wonder if he’s started to question the future. If chaos can jolt him into my version of reality, dropping the craziest conversation I can remember from last year should do it.

“What if we got married?” I ask, ignoring the fact that marriages aren’t acknowledged anymore. Why would they be?

His eyebrows raise like a hot air balloon in the sky, and I snap a picture of the expression. When the Polaroid develops, I’ll have a permanent image of him wrestling against the memory loss. A permanent image of the entire reason I continue to hope. He’s oblivious to his effort, but I’m not. He shakes off the shock, but it served its purpose.

It made him think.

“Just say when, Sunshine,” he replies in his sexy raspy voice that he only uses when teasing me.

Last year he said something similar, more of a name the time and place situation, but this year he used my nickname.

“Would you actually want to? You know, if we could?”

He’s staring at me with squinty eyes again and my stomach crunches like a coke can, as if his answer holds the power to change our circumstances anyway.

“Without a doubt.”

Thank God he’s sure. Would’ve killed me if he wasn’t.

“There would be no greater honor than making you my wife,” he whispers, pulling me into his chest.

“Well, honey, you dodged a bullet. You’ve been spared from a lifetime of being forced to eat scorched dinners, read cheesy romances, and witness countless mental breakdowns, followed by many tears and unnecessary fights.”

“That’s all I want.”

His heart cracked with his voice. It was nearly silent, but I caught it—he’s coming undone, too.

“What? Huh? You want to fight with me?” Staying light on my feet and light in my mind, I lift my fists. “Be careful what you wish for, Dean.”

My first punch meets his arm with half of the force I intended. Who am I kidding? I can’t even throw a punch! His lack of engagement in this joke of a fight doesn’t discourage me. Throwing a left hook with a little more strength, I laugh off the embarrassment of how weak it is, despite switching hands.

“Oh, honey, this is a sweet massage. You’re going to have to hit a whole lot harder to get my attention.”

My eyes RSVP yes to his invitation. There are plenty of ways I can steal his attention. Grabbing his shirt, I tug him close, plant my lips onto his, and kiss him passionately before pulling away too quickly to be anything except a tease.

“Come on, baby. Fight for me,” I whisper onto his lips.

My eyes desperately plead for him to understand the weight of that request, but his are just desperate for me.

Faking a frown, I saunter back to his side, but on step three I jump onto his back. Even when he’s least expecting an attack, he’d never drop me.

Joining me in laughter, he finally taps out in our fight. The surprise attack gets him every time.

“Okay,” he sorely sighs.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Dean!” His name comes out in a half laugh, half warning as he starts to spin. My world is spinning on the world—that’s dizzying.

Letting me down slowly, he holds me upright until our hands naturally fall into each other’s grip. My left in his right, his covering mine with an unwavering confidence. Our feet fall in stride together as if we’re one, even as we hop over the crack in the sidewalk on Main. Finally stopped walking around it last month.

“Hallee . . .”

“Dean?”

“Did I tell you that you’re absolutely radiant today?”

Somehow being complimented all the time still hasn’t taught me how to accept, so I silently nod.

“Call me a sunflower because I can’t take my eyes off of you, Sunshine.”

“Speaking of,” I hesitate. Keep ?em guessing, remember? “My room has been sad and sunflower-less lately. It’s almost like the man got his woman and stopped surprising her.”

The side eye I throw him is wholeheartedly playful. He’s done nothing but treat me like royalty. A queen deserves sunflowers on her side table, though.

Clutching his chest tightly, he feigns a gunshot wound and yanks out the invisible bullet.

“You devastate me, my queen. Shall I compare thee to a—”

Shoving him into the empty oncoming traffic lane takes his breath away before he can finish taunting me.

“How kind of you to push me onto the runway. Finally, my turn!”

Laughter bubbles out of me, growing louder and louder as he struts. Confidence is the world’s sexiest accessory and he’s dripping in it, dragging his hands up his torso as he gives me a swoon-worthy spin.

When he reaches up and turns his hat backwards, I’m ready to jump into traffic with him. He knows it too, but luckily before I make a fool of myself, a car honks. Startles him, which is rare. Startles me, which is less rare.

“Sorry,” he says, waving politely before returning where he belongs.

“I love you,” I admit.

Woah, hello? Hallee, what the hell? We had a plan.

We were going to orchestrate a grand reveal, but—his face, and those eyes, and that laugh, and his hand—this feels just as special. Simply being together is grand enough.

“I love you too,” he answers, grinning as wide as the sky.

Every step we take, I’m transported back to a memory of us doing this over and over again.

I love you, then.

I love you, there.

I love you, last year.

I love you now, I blink.

Now and a lifetime of tomorrows.