“We’re the ones who should apologize,” the voice said. “My dear old aunt still thinks this is the Wild, Wild West and that firing a warning shot into the air is a perfectly acceptable way to tell someone they’re too close for comfort. I promise you were never in danger. She would never hurt anyone. She was just frightened.”
I felt my cheeks get hot. I was prowling around the poor old woman’s house in the black of night—of course she was frightened!
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I stammered. “I’m sorry I scared her.”
“What’s he saying?” Jordan asked. “Who did you scare?” I held up a finger: one sec!
The voice rattled off the address, then added, “I would say just follow the sound of gunshots, but I’ve disarmed her.”
I smiled at the joke. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Thanks for calling. And for finding my dog.”
“Someone found him!” Jordan said as I hung up the phone. I nodded, then bit my lip. I don’t know if it was relief or shame that made me start crying again, but I let loose like a fire hose.
“You’re OK, he’s OK,” Jordan soothed as he pulled me into a hug. We had hugged many times before, at “Goodbye,” or “Welcome home,” or “Happy birthday,” but this one felt different. Maybe it was all the emotion swirling around . . . or the memory of his hand on my leg, strong and warm and holding me steady. It had been a long time since I’d had a hug like that. And I didn’t want to let go.
“Want me to come with you?” he asked as my face sank into the gentle valley of his pecs. Jordan was a multisport athlete in high school—football in the fall, basketball in the winter, baseball in the spring; I had never been one of those girls who’d been impressed by athletic prowess, but who doesn’t love a hometown hero?
My thoughts turned to Brando, all alone in a stranger’s house. I released Jordan from the hug, but we were still standing nose to nose. I could have gone up on tippy-toes and kissed him if I’d wanted to. And I kind of wanted to. Is he feeling what I’m feeling? Does he remember our marriage pact? I guess my brush with death had emboldened me, because I decided it was time to find out.
“We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” I said.
“Ha!” Jordan said. “A lot of trouble! Remember when you broke the window?”
“I didn’t break the window! You broke the window.”
“Because your arm was stuck in it,” he said. “I had to get you out!” Jordan was everything you could want in a partner: easygoing, reliable, able to stop any kind of bleeding. Whether it was catching the touchdown to win the big game or freeing his hysterical roommate from the jaws of jagged window glass, he always rose to meet the moment.
“Jordan . . . ,” I said, my courage surging. “Do you remember that pact we made? About turning thirty?”
He looked at me quizzically. “We made a pact?”
I could have stopped right there. Clearly he didn’t remember or didn’t want to be reminded. I don’t know what possessed me to push. Perhaps the relief at getting Brando back made me feel invincible? Or maybe I was just tired of sleeping with a dog instead of a man.
“Well, not a pact, exactly,” I clarified. “It’s just you’ve always been there for me. And I like that. And maybe, y’know, it could always be like that? Like we talked about.” Holy crap, did I just say that? As if I hadn’t already been reckless enough!
I saw Jordan’s whole body stiffen. Is he freaking out? Or just confused? I mean, I kinda sorta just proposed marriage. And why not? Jordan was a catch. Everyone we knew thought we looked great together. Jeannie from my acting class had even told me to hurry up and “lock that shit down” or she was going to make a move. Jordan had been talking me off ledges since I’d moved to Hollywood; I was a little afraid to think where I’d be without him. I wasn’t actually going to slash Jeannie’s tires when she “accidentally” gave me the wrong address for the Stranger Things audition, but it was Jordan who took the box cutters out of my hand with a gentle reminder to “do unto others.” He was a good influence on me—as my mom would say, “husband material.” I held my breath as I waited for him to tell me if he thought the same about me.
“Brando’s waiting,” he said as he backed away. “I’ll go change.”
I felt like I just got slapped. Good God, what have I done? My face prickled with humiliation.