This whole series of events led us to our beginning. Or, as I've considered many times, maybe it wasn't the beginning, but rather, a beginning.
After "The Christmas Eve Kiss," as I like to call it, Matthew and I fell slowly and gently in love with each other more and more as time drifted past. Anne, needless to say, was thrilled when I told her. She squealed with delight to the point of annoyance. For over a week, everything that came out of her mouth consisted of either, "I told you so." "I knew it." "You guys are so great together." Or "Do you think you'll get married'?" And lots of other inquiries, exclamations, and speculations.
The three of us, sometimes along with Jake, (who did actually get around to asking her out) still hung out lots, and did some double dates every now and then. Life felt better than ever. For once I was hopeful about the future. I envisioned myself happy and optimistic, with Matthew next to me, holding my hand, and the two of us discovering the world together. It was a great vision.
And it was almost shattered.
A year and half after "The Christmas Eve Kiss" something pretty big happened. You see, my dad was the head manager-guy at a bank. Real exciting, I know. The owner, some big-wig, wanted to expand, open more fancy-pants banks in other areas, and since my dad was known for his diligence and trustworthiness, he was selected to oversee and basically run this new bank. Which meant moving. I repeat: moving.
Obviously, I did not want to move. I finally had friends, a job, a fantastic boyfriend. I tried to explain this to my parents. I felt selfish for even mentioning it. This job was something my dad had been hoping for, and though it was a difficult decision to make, he couldn't turn it down. They understood my perspective, and even considered rethinking their decision, but I couldn't stand the thought of holding them back. Especially my dad. This was something he really wanted.
So I had to come up with a different solution.
I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of staying here while my parents moved to a different state, but that was the only logical solution. I was definitely old enough to live on my own, but I only had a part-time job at Beck's Bakery and wasn't making enough to pay for rent and groceries and other bills and living expenses. I thought about trying to find a full-time job, and even started looking for one, until Matthew mentioned something he'd been considering.
We sat across from each other at the picnic table in the park, the one next to the lake where we got caught in the rain that time on Thanksgiving. He held my hand, looking at it with such focus, as if he were examining it for who knows what reason. Finally, after a long silence, he broke eye contact with my hand and looked up.
"What do you think about moving into my apartment?"
"What?" I asked, startled at this sudden question. He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "Yeah. It's the perfect solution. Okay, maybe not the most ideal situation, but it could work," he added, seeing the look I gave him. I considered his proposal. Would that really work?
"I don't know... I don't think my father would be too keen on that idea. I mean, he can't exactly tell me not to, but I wouldn't really feel right about doing something he doesn't approve of..."
"I know what you mean, and I respect your father's opinion. I just think we have to be realistic here. There aren't many other solutions. I mean, we talked about a long-distance relationship if you were to move with your parents. Neither of us really want that, though if it came down to it, you know I'd do anything for you." He smiled and kissed the back of my hand, which he was still holding. "But if we can come up with something where we can avoid that, I think we should look into it. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. Not at all. But just consider this: I've got a pull-out couch. I could sleep on that. We wouldn't need to sleep in the same room or anything. Your dad might be alright with that arrangement. What do you think?" He looked at me with those shining green eyes; the eyes I loved so much. The eyes that threatened to swallow me, to drown me in their deep green pools. And I knew I'd do anything to stay with them.
Admittedly, my parents weren't thrilled with the idea of my moving in with Matthew, but, all things considered, they didn't protest. Very much.
The week before they were scheduled to move, I was all settled in my new home. It felt different, for sure, living apart from my parents, and they didn't exactly like the idea of leaving me behind, as they called it, but after a while we all settled into a new normal.
Matthew slept on the couch-bed and I slept in the bedroom. Some nights we would fall asleep in the living room watching movies until the wee hours of the morning, but I would always wake up every morning back in my bed and Matthew on the couch. He carried me. I sometimes secretly pretended to be asleep, just so he'd carry me to the other room and I wouldn't have to walk. I shared that secret with him later.
After another six months or so, Christmas found it's way to us once more. On Christmas Eve it would be two years since that first kiss under the mistletoe.
Kate decided to have another party. She and Thomas had gotten married back in the spring, so this would be their first Christmas together. My parents were coming to visit, and both Anne and Jake were coming this year.
"Hey guys! Come on in!" Kate says when she answers the door. Matthew and I have just arrived. We hurry inside to get out of the cold. Kate and Thomas have put up all the usual decorations and then some. As I look around inside, everything has more lights, more tinsel, more holiday cheer than the last Christmas party my aunt hosted.
Knowing there will be some special goodies waiting especially for me, I make a B-line for the kitchen. Sure enough, there's the snack table with a "Gluten-Free" label on the plates holding my very own desserts. Oh how I love Kate.
"Ah. I thought this is where I'd find you." It's Matthew. He offers me his one-of-a-kind, signature smile. I smile back, and, pausing for just a second, I take that time to think to myself just how attractive he is. His hair is parted slightly to the side, longer on the top and shorter on the sides. It falls gently across his forehead, swooping perfectly to the side. It's true I'm jealous of his hair; it's so soft and shiny. My fingers itch every time I look at it, wanting to touch it.
Today, for this special occasion, he's wearing a light blue dress shirt underneath a grey vest with dark grey trousers and black ankle-high boots. He looks rather dashing, if I do say so myself.
"Well, you were right," I say. "You found me." He touches my shoulder and moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder, so his cheek is nestled against mine. I breathe a slow, contented sigh. He kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, "I love you." I close my eyes. Warmth spreads throughout every part of me. I turn around to face him, his arms still around me, and, looking deeply into his eyes, I say, "Matthew...I love you."
A couple hours later everyone is in the den playing games, watching Christmas movies, or just sitting around drinking hot chocolate or eggnog. I've just finished a game of UNO with my cousins and Anne. Jake and Matthew seem to be having some kind of discussion about who won their dart game. He catches my eye and nods his head toward the door to the living room. I look back at Anne to tell her that Matthew wants something, but when I turn to her, she's looking at me, a slight smile playing on her overly-glossed lips. What's up with that? I'm about to ask when she winks at me and walks away, toward where Jake is playing darts with himself. I just shake my head. There's no telling with her.
When I get into the living room Matthew is sitting by the fireplace, holding two cups of hot chocolate.
"Come sit by me?" he asks. I chuckle a little. He's so sweet. I sit down beside him as close as possible, so our legs touch from hip to knee. He hands me the paper cup filled with light brown liquid. We sit together in silence for a little while, drinking our hot beverages.
When I'm finished he takes my cup and tosses it into the nearby trash basket, which is next to the recliner. I'm beginning to wonder why he wanted me to come in here, wondering if he has something to tell me, or if he just wanted a moment alone for the purpose of being alone. Or maybe he wanted me to sit under the mistletoe (which is exactly where it was the first time) so he'd have an excuse to kiss me. (Not that he needs one.) But he hasn't said anything and he hasn't kissed me. Just as I'm getting a bit impatient waiting for him to say or do something, about to ask what's on his mind, he stands up rather abruptly. With a confused look on my face, I watch him as he stands there for a second, his back to me. I see his shoulders rise as if he's taking a deep breath. Turning back around, he reaches for my hand. I smile. He smiles back, big and real and eyes gleaming in the firelight. He kneels down in front of me and says, "Bailey, I know I've said this many times, but I love you more than words can express. I don't think any word ever invented could fully explain it. So I want to demonstrate my love for you. I want to show you, to prove to you, and everyone else, that I love and cherish and treasure you, every day, for as long as I live.
"I know life will sometimes throw storms in our faces, and times will be hard, but I promise to always be there to walk through it with you, together.
So, will you, Bailey Evers, do me the incredible honor of marrying me?" As he says this last part, he reaches inside his front shirt-pocket and pulls out a ring. A gorgeous ring. An engagement ring. Throughout his declaration of unending love and devotion to me, and his promise to prove it to the world, I have sat in silent astonishment. Now, as he holds out the ring, offering me everything I could ever hope for, my emotions spill over along with the tears that run down my face.
I nod my head quickly, remembering that I haven't given an answer, and manage to squeak out a barely audible, "Yes!"
He sighs with obvious relief and smiles that brilliant smile that I love so much. And it's all for me. He takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. A perfect fit. He stands and pulls me up with him. Wrapping both arms around his neck, I hug him and cry some more and breathe in the scent of him. He smells like soap and woodsy scented cologne and skin.
He pulls back and places his hands behind my neck and, slowly, he leans forward and kisses me.
"The Christmas Eve Engagement Kiss."
I open my eyes to flashing camera lights. For a second I'm confused, but then I understand. Everyone knew. Except me. And apparently they all wanted a picture of this memorable moment. Of "The Christmas Eve Engagement Kiss" under the mistletoe.
As realization dawns on my face, I quickly find Anne in the applauding crowd of my relatives and friends. She wears a smug smile and I glare at her. She sticks her tongue out. We both laugh. Everyone comes rushing forward to hug and congratulate me and Matthew, my parents being first in line.
I'm glad I'd chosen the water-proof mascara.
This is not the end of our story. No, it is merely another beginning. A beautiful beginning. Matthew and I have many, though this is the last one to be shared.
I wanted to tell these stories, these beginnings, because it demonstrates something I think is important. You see, when I first met Matthew, I was very reserved and skeptical, and I didn't want to let anyone in because I was afraid. I'd been hurt before by someone I trusted; someone who was supposed to have loved me. From that experience I learned not to open up. To stay far away from potential dangers. Don't trust. Don't reveal your heart. Don't love. Because in the end, love is dangerous. Love will only lead to pain. That's what I believed.
Matthew taught me differently. He patiently proved to me through his actions that to really live, you have to open your heart and let love venture forth; let love be what guides you, not fear. He showed me that real love is extraordinarily profound, more than feelings and emotions; love is built and grown.
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