Butterfly Weeds (25 page)

             
I smiled a wide, happy smile.

             
“I told you so,” I said, still grinning. “Well, minus the lights, I knew you’d like it.”

             
“You were just itchin’ to say that, weren’t you?” he asked.

             
My smile grew wider.

             
“Maybe,” I confessed.

             
“You never liked the firefighting idea, did you?” Will asked in a quiet voice with an endearing, side smile.

             
“What?” I asked, pausing from our dance to look into his expression. “Why did you think that?”

             
“I didn’t think. I knew, Jules,” he whispered, still displaying his wry smile.

             
I hesitated for an instant.

             
“Will, you had to have picked the most dangerous career,” I protested slightly, admitting defeat. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled, but I was sincerely happy for you.”

             
“I know. I know,” he said, chuckling.

             
“Will, I would have done anything to make you happy…I still would,” I said to him, smiling honestly.

             
We were dancing slower now. The song had changed sometime back. He gently held my right hand in his, and his other hand was on the small of my back.

             
“I mean, we were best friends, Will,” I continued.

             
“Are best friends, Jules. We are best friends,” he said in a quiet, confident voice.

             
I slowly nodded my head as our feet glided along the tiny dance floor.

             
“Are,” I agreed softly, glancing back up at him with a smile.

             
He didn’t say anything then, and neither did I. It felt good to be there, surrounded by old friends, talking to him. It was nice. It was comfortable, for now, anyway. The fact remained, however, that it was nice until they all found out how much I had changed since high school – until I got bored and needed the confines of sky scrapers and endless traffic. How my values had warped. I smiled as Will’s voice caught my attention again.

             
“Jules, I’ve, aah, been doing some thinking, and I…,” Will started to mumble as he reached for my other hand.

             
He stopped then, and I followed the path his eyes made to my left hand and then to my ring finger.

             
I swore my heart stopped for a second as the words fell from my mind and to the hard dance floor below.

             
“Jules, please tell me this is just a pretty ring,” he pleaded.

             
My heart sank further – to the bottom most part of my soul, to the basement of the tiny bar – and nothing really seemed right to say, but I realized quickly that I had to say something, anything.

             
“It’s not just a ring, Will,” I muttered softly.

             
The words sounded still so foreign to me, almost as if I weren’t saying them, but that someone in the far-off distance was saying them, instead, for me. The words sounded sad, yet confident.

             
Will continued to stare at my finger and the shiny, one-carrot diamond resting on it. His face turned a pale, flushed color, and for what seemed like a century, he said nothing. Then, he finally spoke.

             
“The Doctor?” he asked softly, his eyes still cast on my ring.

             
My eyes slowly left my hand and followed a meandering path to his own weighty eyes.

             
“Yes,” I mumbled softly. “The Doctor.”

             
“And I’m guessing this means you said
yes
?” he asked, softer still.

             
I nodded my head slowly. A half, awkward smile illuminated my face.

             
Silent seconds drew on.

             
“Well, I guess congrats are in order then,” he said, sounding forced but positive.

             
“Thanks,” I said, barely audibly, as I looked up at his hollowed face and then followed his gaze still planted on the ring on my finger.

             
“Just tell me one thing, Jules,” he said, returning his eyes to mine. He sounded serious.

             
“Okay,” I said hesitantly, meeting his eyes again.

             
“Is he the one?” he asked.

             
I paused for a second again. It wasn’t really a question I had been expecting. It was loaded, I knew, but I managed to stand strong behind my decision. I was wearing the ring after all. He must have already known my answer.

             
“He’s good for me, Will,” I finally said softly.

             
Silence crept into the conversation again as we continued to stand in the middle of the tiny bar, still hand in hand but not dancing; instead, just standing there – until Will finally spoke again.

             
“Well, that’s what matters,” he said softly.

             
The juke box page turned, and another song started playing then as I let out a thankful sigh. At the same time, Will found my gaze.

             
“It was really good to see you again,” he confessed gently.

             
“It was nice to see you too,” I said, wrapping my arms around his muscular frame. I didn’t know exactly if the hug was force of habit or some kind of nervous impulse, but I embraced him tightly nevertheless, as he surrendered and wrapped his arms around me as well. I took a deep breath, breathing in his smell, free of cologne, a combination of sweat and laundry detergent. It was a familiar scent, one that instantly made me feel at peace again.

             
We held each other longer than usual. It was almost as if we both had an idea that our paths might never cross again. Then, he kissed me on the cheek and whispered into my ear.

             
“Take care, Jules,” he said.

             
“You leaving?” I whispered incredulously, slightly caught off-guard.

             
“Yeah, I gotta work early tomorrow morning. The call of duty,” he said, withdrawing from our embrace and tipping his baseball cap slightly in my direction. He flashed a side smile and then turned to leave.

             
My eyes followed him to the door. I started after him, getting only a step in his direction, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

             
“You tell him?” Rachel asked.

             
I turned back toward her and then nodded my head and tried to smile as best I could.

             
“He’ll be fine. He’s a big boy, Jules,” Rachel said, assuring me.

             
“I guess you’re right,” I said softly, turning my attention back to the closed screen door in the corner of the bar, as a set of headlights illuminated the dark world behind it.

             
Rachel gave me a hug.

             
“Don’t look so sad. You’re getting married to the perfect guy, Honey,” Rachel said excitedly.

             
“I know,” I said.

             
“But no one has to know if you run after him,” Rachel whispered.

             
“What?” I asked.

             
“Not a word,” she said again as she motioned toward the screen door.

             
“Rachel, I’m not going to run after him,” I said, shaking my head and now smiling again.

             
“You’re going to tell me that you wouldn’t take one more night with that sexy man?” she asked.

             
I stared at her in protest and with a questioning smile.

             
“No, Rach, I wouldn’t,” I said with conviction.

             
“But you’ve thought about it?” Rachel asked, with a half-smirk glued to her face.

             
I tilted my head and just barely cracked a grin.

             
“Rach, I think I love him too much,” I said softly. “I just couldn’t.”

             
“Okay, well, can’t say I didn’t try,” Rachel said, laughing. “Why don’t you go give Mr. I Love Him Too Much a call?”

             
“What?” I asked her as she walked away.

             
“Give your fiancé a call,” she said. “Say goodnight and then get back in here. I’ll hold down the fort. And tell him I say ‘hi.’”

             
“Rach, I didn’t mean…,” I started but noticed she could no longer hear me. “I didn’t mean him,” I whispered.

             
I stood there for a second, motionless, before I reached into my tight, blue jeans’ pocket, pulled out my phone and slipped through the screen door. The slight chill in the air immediately made me shiver and forced my hand to my opposite arm as I found Brady’s number and then hit
send
.

             
While I listened to the phone ring, I spotted several large rocks that were left sticking out of the loose-gravel parking lot, vulnerable to mischief, so I kicked each one of them with the toe of my shoe until I heard Brady’s voice on the other end.

             
“Hey,” he answered. His voice sounded raspy and tired.

             
“I’m sorry, Honey. Did I wake you?” I asked.

             
“No, no, no. I’m awake. I was just resting my eyes,” he exclaimed.

             
“Oh, okay,” I said, laughing.