The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (125 page)

“
I kept one, too.
”
A small smile plays at my lips as it dawns on me that he
’
s the reason why I was gifted with the journal
—
not because he broke up with me and I was hurting, but because he was hurting, too, and he needed someplace to express his thoughts.
Gray
might have stolen the idea for me, but it originated with
Beckham
. He turns it over in his hands as if it
’
s the most precious gift that I
’
ve ever given him. I want to believe that it is, and maybe it will be, but it
’
s not merely a collection of good things.
“
I don
’
t know that you
’
ll like all that you find
—
but it
’
s the truth.
”

He offers me a solemn nod before he brings his dark blue eyes back up to meet mine.
“
Thank you.
”

I realize that, until he reads it, he might not know what I
’
m trying to say; but I
’
ve come down here to open my heart and offer it to him. I reach over and curl one my hands around one of his.
“
I love you, too, Beckham. I always have.
”

He adjusts his hand, lacing his fingers with mine.
“
I wish that was still enough
—
enough to give us permission to pick right back up from where we left off.
”
He shakes his head and the action evokes an ache that fills my chest.
“
It
’
s not.
”

“
I know,
”
I whisper, my tears returning.

“
I don
’
t have a play book, you know? I can
’
t promise you what
’
s going to happen or when.
”

“
I know,
”
I repeat. He doesn
’
t say anything else, which makes me anxious. Everything he
’
s saying seems so frustratingly ambiguous. I hate it. We have so much history; our knowledge of one another is profound
—
but we also have our separation, which has changed us. Not just
him
and
me
, but
us.
Even our fight from last night
—
we
’
ll never be the same.
“
What now?
”
I ask, needing to know.

He reaches up and gently brushes away my tears with his thumb. He barely touches me, and yet my heart rate speeds up with his gesture.
“
What do
you
want, Addison?
”

His question takes me by surprise. It
’
s the same question I
’
ve been asking myself for
weeks.
Now that the answer is staring me in the face, I
’
m overwhelmed by all that my choice contains. Our hearts need mending. Our trust needs time to be restored. Our future, even whilst together, is unclear. There are so many questions that need answers and so many decisions that need to be addressed. We have our work cut out for us
—
but it
’
s the
we
that will make it all worth it.
He
is worth it.

“
I want you, Beckham.
”

“
I want you, too,
”
he says, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. He cups both of his hands around my cheeks and I reach up to rest my hands around his wrists. I don
’
t know how long we sit this way, simply enjoying the nearness of each other, before he speaks.
“
I missed you. I
’
ve missed you so much, baby.
”

I practically moan in response to his words.
“
I missed you too, love.
”

“
Will you come back to me?
”
he whispers, his breath kissing my lips.
“
Be my girlfriend, again?
”

It
’
s so crazy to me that six months ago, I would have given anything for him to ask me to be his wife; but now nothing would make me more happy than to be his girlfriend.

“
Yes,
”
I murmur, relieved beyond measure.
“
Yes!
”

He steals my breath away when he closes the distance between us and presses a kiss to my lips. My arms are around his neck instantly, begging for him to stay close. He breaks away from me just long enough to discard his glasses; then his arms are around my waist, pulling me against him, and his mouth is back where it belongs. After so many days without him
—
without
this
—
I would imagine that it would feel different, but it doesn
’
t. I lose myself in this moment that speaks of our rekindling. He kisses me deeper and I
’
m reminded of the way he tastes, of the way his tongue plays with mine, of the way his lips tell me how much he wants me
—
how much he
desires and hungers
for me
—
but also how much he
loves and adores
me. Everything about this kiss is familiar and in his arms, I feel like I
’
m home.

I surrender to him. For the first time since the last time
—
all those months ago
—
I feel safe and secure and
sure
. Finally. It
’
s so good to be home.

One Year & Six Months Later

I
’
ve never seen her so happy. Every time she looks at me, she smiles. It
’
s not just her mouth that speaks of her joy, it
’
s her eyes
—
her big, brown eyes that have never looked more gorgeous than they do today; it
’
s her laugh and the way she tilts her head and tucks her chin, making her seem both bashful and playful; it
’
s the way she holds onto me as we make our way around the room to spend a moment with each of our guests.

If I could bottle her essence, this atmosphere, and my love, I would. I
’
d seal it up and keep it forever, just to hold it as a memory. I know that we will never be able to capture these moments ever again; they are precious. However, I do not mourn the seconds gone by. I know that every minute and every day, every week and every month, every year and every decade for the rest of my life will be filled with precious moments created with the woman I
’
ve loved for the past six years
—
the woman I
will
love until my last breath.

It
’
s hard to believe that this day is more than half over. It
’
s taken us
so long
to get here. The past two years have been beyond challenging for us. I thought we had it bad when I broke up with her at the end of junior year
—
but that was just a preview of harder days to come. My first year at Baylor is now behind me, but I will never forget it.

Right before I packed all my stuff and moved to Texas, I proposed to Addie. Timing is everything. I couldn
’
t leave her without promising her that I would come back for her. It blows my mind how often our engagement saved us. Long distance
sucks.
Long distance coupled with my first year of medical school and her first year of teaching
sucked
. Some days I felt like, regardless of everything we had been through, we were still a fragile unit. We never broke, but the journey it took to bring us
here
wasn
’
t what I was expecting.

I
’
ve learned so much along the way. To list it all would be borderline outrageous, but I will say this: God is sovereign. Knowing that truth, clinging to my awareness that God is always in control, has brought me through some pretty tough days. I don
’
t claim perfection; I am grateful that I am covered by grace
—
but learning to trust in God and in His timing has made me into the best version of myself that I could possibly be
right now
. It
’
s
this version
that is prepared to take on the world
—
to take on the role of husband.

When I broke up with Addie a little over two years ago, I had to stop asking myself
—
and God
—
why.
To this day, I
’
m still not sure that I know why. It felt right. I know that
’
s not an answer, but that
’
s all I have. Everything else is just choices, decisions, mistakes
—
lessons learned
. I could say that it was God
’
s way of preparing Addison and me for our year of long distance. I could say that it was God
’
s way of showing me how to love Addie like He loves the church. He loves us so much that He gives us the choice to choose Him. I had to let Addie go for a while to see if she would still
choose
me
. I could say it was God
’
s way of making me see that I was taking her for granted and she deserves better than that. The truth is, I could say it was God
’
s way of doing a lot of things
—
and maybe I
’
d be right or maybe I
’
d be wrong. In the end, I understand it doesn
’
t matter. What matters is that I did what I felt my heart was calling me to do and, after it
’
s all been said in done, I ended up here.

And I wouldn
’
t take any of it back.

“
Hey, husband,
”
says my beautiful bride as she wraps her arms around my waist and looks up at me. Her hair is twisted and braided into an intricate bun-thing that hangs low at the nape of her neck, but a lone strand has managed to escape and I feel compelled to tuck it behind her ear, so I do.
“
How about a dance?
”