Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

39. Jonah

Chapter 39

Jonah

O ver the past couple of days, I’ve done nothing but dread tonight.

Not because I don’t want to see her, I absolutely do. But I know that tonight will most likely be our make-or-break night. We have to have the tough conversation about where we’re going, if anywhere at all.

“It smells good in here,” I tell her after she opens the door for me. I lean in to kiss her on the cheek and follow her inside.

“Thanks,” she says, making her way toward the kitchen table. The same table that might inadvertently be changing my life.

I do love her place. Whereas some might expect it to be super feminine, it’s anything but. She has stormy-gray and dark-wood furniture, a white and stainless-steel kitchen, wrought-iron barstools, huge television on the wall, and shelves overflowing with books. So many books.

Trendy country music plays over the speakers, and it’s not lost on me that she remembers I said I love it at the beach.

“Growing up, there were several things my mom made that I loved, so my dad and I have been trying to perfect them over the years. I know you are particular about what you eat, so I skipped the tater tot hotdish and made the wild rice and chicken soup instead. Seems healthier, but I did buy bread to go with it, and I made you a bundt cake.” She smiles at me sheepishly.

“A bundt cake?” I ask as I take a seat at the table and run my hands over my thighs to dry them. I don’t eat a lot of sweets, but for her I would eat anything. My nerves are all over the place, and as much as I tell myself it’s all going to be okay, I can’t help but feel anxious.

“Yeah.” She grins. “It’s the official cake of Minnesota.” She picks it up off the kitchen counter and brings it over to the table.

“Okay. Never met a cake I haven’t liked.” I smile at her.

“There’s a salad for you too. I’ve seen you eat before, but I wasn’t sure if the soup and the cake would be enough.”

“Thank you, it’s all perfect,” I tell her, when really I have zero appetite and don’t want to eat at all.

She takes a seat next to me, and I look around at all of the thoughts and details she put into tonight. The table is decorated with placemats, chargers, pretty napkins, two glasses of wine, water, fresh flowers, and candles. She’s wearing a cute navy-and-white-patterned dress that’s a little loose and has three-quarter sleeves. Her hair is styled and down, and she has on a full face of makeup. I’m thinking I’m not the only one who’s nervous.

“How’s Vivi been the rest of the week?” she asks as she picks up my bowl to ladle me some of the soup.

“Okay, actually.” She sets the bowl back in front of me. “She bounced back pretty quick, and I’m certain that has a lot to do with you.”

Her eyes connect with mine, and she lets out a deep breath. “Good, I was worried about her. Where is she tonight?”

“At home with Tyler. He said he’d stay as long as I needed him to.”

She nods her head, then picks up her own bowl, filling it almost to the top.I add some salad to my plate, cut us both a piece of bread, and we both sit in silence as we go through the motions.

“Wow, this is delicious,” I say after taking my first bite. And it is. I can see why this is a family favorite and easily know it could become one of mine.

“Thank you. I was worried that there wouldn’t be enough salt.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” I assure, and I feel these words in the deepest part of my heart.I hope she reads between the lines. If she wants this, us, there’s nothing I won’t do to make it work.

“Want to see something funny? Here, look at this.” I pull out my phone and pull up the video from yesterday. She takes it from me and hits play. I watch her, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she touches a few things on the screen and then her eyes come back to mine.

“What is this?”

“It’s Vivi teaching Molly to dance.” Did she not see? It’s such a cute video too. Vivi holds her hands in the air, palms facing down and she waves them up and down like she’s pounding on a drum. Molly stands on her back legs when she does this and starts dancing.

“I see that, but what site is this?”

Oh, now I understand what she’s asking.

“I made a website for Vivi. Well, I guess it’s for me too.”

She looks back at my phone and then at me. “Why?”

I want to tell her I don’t know, but I do. “John was always taking pictures of her. I used to make fun of him and he took it in stride every time. He used to tell me that one day I would understand. That all the little moments are what mean the most. When he died, I don’t know, I kind of became obsessed with making sure I documented every little moment. I was afraid I would miss something, for him, for me, or for her. And then one night, after scrolling through hundreds of photos, I decided to create a website. I guess it’s my version of a photo album, but I’ve tried to capture everything. Maybe she’ll want it someday; maybe she won’t. Maybe John can see it wherever he is; maybe he can’t.” I shrug. “It felt important to me.”

Her eyes turn glassy.

“You titled this website, Wildflowers and Wide Receivers .”

“I did,” I answer, blushing.

“Why is it plural?”

I chuckle. “Because Wildflower and the Wide Receiver didn’t sound good to me. It sounds hippie and, I don’t know, intimate. It felt wrong, and the plural version felt better. Plus, wildflowers aren’t just her nickname—they’re kind of a mascot for our life. The memories, the painting, the annual pictures, they’re all around us. As for wide receivers, outside of me, we’ve received a lot of love from far and wide over the last two years. I tried not to be so literal with the title.”

“I’m speechless,” she whispers as she looks back at my phone and scrolls through the images.

Other than Vivi, Tyler, and my uncle, I haven’t told anyone else about this site. It’s not that I need to keep it secret, I just want to. It belongs to us, and I don’t need the world to know it exists.

“Am I on it?” She glances back at me.

It never occurred to me that she might not want to be, and uneasiness burns its way into my lungs. Everyone I’ve put on the site has a tag: Sophie, the guys, Kelli. That makes it easy to pull each one.

“Yes,” I tell her hesitantly, again rubbing my hands across my thighs. “I can take you off if you don’t want to be.”

Please don’t make me remove you.

“No, that’s fine. Jonah, I think this is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen.” She slowly hands me back my phone. Now that she knows the site address, I wonder if she’ll go on and look at all the photos? Deep down, I hope she does. I want her to know everything about me.

I scoff. “You won’t think that once you see the one I posted of you eating that giant slice of pizza from Madison Avenue Pizza.”

She smiles a real smile and leans back in her chair.

“Obviously, I’ve seen you taking photos and wondered what you were doing with them. I thought maybe an Instagram account or something, but this is so much better. This is thoughtful and amazing.”

“Thank you. I know a lot of parents have scrapbooks and such, but I get lost when I see how many pictures there are and this makes everything so much easier. I can make categories for each school year, one for back-to-school photos, Halloween costumes, holidays, all of it. Every night before I go to bed, if I have a photo, I upload it. It takes no time at all. Like right here.” I lean over and show her where the categories are and the tags.

“For her whole life,” she whispers. “Does she know?”

“Yes. I also have categories for John and Ashley. She likes to look at those.”

“You never cease to surprise me.”

Picking up her spoon she takes a bit of the soup. I do the same and can’t help but wonder what’s going through her head.

Setting the spoon down, she takes a sip of her wine and then turns to face me.

“I know I shouldn't be nervous to have you over tonight, but I am. And after seeing that, I somehow am even more.”

“Soph, I don’t want you to be nervous. It’s all going to work out as it should.”

“You don’t understand . . .” She hesitates.

“But I do.”

“I’ve thought about what I want to say to you. In fact, I’ve rehearsed it. I just don’t want to forget anything or get it wrong.”

“Sophie, you haven’t done anything wrong.” I turn so I’m facing her too and our knees are touching.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on this one,” she says, looking down at her lap.

“Listen, was I hurt at first? Yes. But once I took the time to think about it, I understand why you didn’t tell me. But I need you to know I will never be someone who holds you back from following your dreams. And I know that if it were just me in this scenario, things might look a little different, but that’s not how it is.”

“Jonah—” she says, wanting to tell me what it is she’s rehearsed, but I need to talk first. I have to.

“Please, just let me get this out.”

“Okay,” she says, reaching over and placing her hand on mine. I flip mine so our fingers can lace together. I love holding her hand. I want to grow old holding this hand.

“While I never want to stifle you from your dreams, I also feel strongly that you deserve a man who will fight for you. Because you’re worth it. You’re more than worth it. So this is me asking you to stay. Here. In Tampa. With me. Give us a shot. I know this probably feels sudden and wild to throw out there, considering we haven’t been together that long, but, Sophie, I’m in love with you. I didn’t need six days to tell you.”

“Six days?” she says, looking at me confused.

“And I can’t promise I’ll always be in Tampa, but I know right now I am, and I want you with us. Down the road, if you want to move back to Minneapolis, we’ll go. I promise. We will follow you to the edge of the world if that’s what you want. I can’t see myself having more than five or so years left anyway. So for now, I’m asking you, please . . . please stay.”

“You love me?”

I lift our hands and kiss the back of hers.

“Of course I do.”