Her eyes shimmered again, and as one tear spilled out onto her cheek, I brushed it away with my thumb.
“I promise I will spend the rest of my life loving you. Every single day, I will make you laugh, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that beautiful smile on your beautiful face. I live to make you smile, and even on our hardest of days, that goal will never change. After all, the sun rises and sets on your smile, and even though I should be, I’m still not used to those dang Ohio winters. But, with you there by my side, that’s all I need to keep me warm. I’d brave polar bears and subzero temperatures if that’s what you wanted. Because, I may be a broken record, baby, but where you go, I go, and that will never, ever change. I love you, Sierra, and I will for all of my days.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent or emotional of vows, but by the beaming, watery smile on Sierra’s face, I knew that it was perfect because it was all me. She sniffled, and when I saw Lexi dabbing her eyes out of the corner of mine, I knew I’d done good.
“Wow. Well, where to start,” Sierra said, laughing. “I guess I should thank you for not growing a mullet for our wedding day—no matter how much you wanted to recreate senior prom. There was no way I was wearing that dress again, and as much as I like John Stamos, I couldn’t be happier to be marrying Jeremy Jordan Banks, here, today, in this spot, in front of the people who mean the most to me.”
“MacGyver?” I questioned, and she rolled her eyes before softening them.
“I’d say that I can’t believe I’m standing here in front of everyone as I become Mrs. Jeremy Banks, but that would be a lie. Since I was eight years old, I’ve loved you and known you were the one for me. I sat down with you on this beach and never wanted to leave your side. So I never did. And I never will. After this, you’re stuck with me. This is your last chance to make a run for it.” She leaned in and placed her hand on my arm, gripping tightly. “But I’m warning you. I give good chase. Because it’s true for me, too, Jeremy. Where you go, I go. For the rest of my life, I want to be with you. Living. Laughing. Loving. You’re it for me, and you always will be.”
I placed my hand on top of hers and pulled her in close, moving my other hand to the small of her back. “Not going anywhere, babe,” I responded before leaning down and kissing her on her lips.
“Good,” she responded. “You’re my best friend, Jeremy. You’re my family. You are the greatest love of my life. I promise to cherish you, adore you, and laugh at all your jokes, and every once in a while, if you really want, you can get your mullet on.”
I smiled. “MacGyver,” I whispered.
She returned my smile. “I love you, Jeremy Jordan Copper MacGyver John Stamos Banks, and I always will. Now, will you finally put a ring on it so I can call you mine?”
So I did as she’d asked. I put a ring on it, Chris declared us husband and wife, and when I pressed my lips to hers, I sealed it with a kiss.
Sierra Banks was my wife.
Nothing could have made me happier.
2007
IT WAS AN ORDINARY night. I’d been on rotation, and it was my last night shift of the week. After four grueling years, I’d become a nurse, and now, I worked in the ICU at Good Samaritan Hospital. We’d lost a patient that night, and after I’d tried for hours to hold back tears, exhaustion seeped from my pores. All I wanted was to strip my scrubs off, take a hot shower, crawl into bed, and wrap my arms around my husband, stealing his warmth until he had to get up in the morning. Then I’d whine until he hit snooze for fifteen minutes. And then we’d have a proper good morning. The thought alone was enough to perk me up—at least a little bit.
I was thinking about what color teddy I’d put on when I was pulling into the drive. My hand hit the garage door opener, and I frowned when the light didn’t turn on. Strange, I thought. Jeremy was usually on it with the upkeep, and like a lot of ’90s kids, I was afraid of the dark. With silent trepidation, I parked in the garage, took a deep breath, and exited the car.
Ten and a half steps until I made it inside. No big deal, right? Except I was twenty-three, afraid of the dark, and not ashamed to admit it.
As soon as I stepped out of my car, I saw it.
It was lying there, shining, teasing, mocking me. On top of Jeremy’s car was the sixty-watt bulb that would usually be twisted into the ceiling light. Instead, someone had unscrewed it and put it on top of his car.
Someone had unscrewed the light bulb, waiting for me to come home into the darkness.
Oh. My. God.
Movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Even as I glanced over, my chest ballooned. In the far corner of the garage, a figure cloaked in black loomed ominously. As my eyes scanned up his body, a scream bubbled up in my throat. The face was covered in a mask, an exact replica of the one from the movie Scream. That Ghostface guy. The perpetrator raised his arm, and that was all I needed to turn on my heel and run.
Down the driveway.
Across the sidewalk.
Just as I was about to race up the neighbor’s lawn, strong arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me back.
I screamed bloody freaking murder.
Oh. My. God.
I was about to be stabbed to death like the usual stupid blonde in all of those horror films. I was going to be the Drew Barrymore, except I hadn’t even gotten the foreplay of a phone call.
Then a hand clamped over my mouth.
“Shh,” my assailant said. “It’s me.”
My body instantly relaxed, yet my heart was still beating wildly. I was in a daze as “Me” led me back to the house, and even when we got inside, I couldn’t look at him. I was too freaked out. Too pissed. Too worried I’d laugh if I saw his stupid grin.
Instead, when he twirled me around and gave me a cocky grin, my hand struck its mark, slapping hard, the sound echoing around us.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” he shouted.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” I echoed, tightening one hand into a fist that I shook at him. The other was on my racing heart, trying to catch the breath I’d lost with my screams. “What the hell was that, Jeremy?! You scared the shit out of me. How could you do that?!”
“I thought it was funny,” he said, struggling not to laugh.
“Funny?! I almost pissed my pants! I almost had a heart attack! I almost woke our neighbors up in the middle of the night because I thought a psycho was trying to kill me! How the hell is that funny?!”
His eyes softened at my rant, but his damn shoulders were still trembling from his silent laughter. What. An. Ass.
“I didn’t expect you to freak out like that. I figured it’d be a small scare, but you’d know it was me.”
“You figured wrong. You owe me at least a bottle of wine tonight, mister!”
I was still shaking as he led me to the kitchen. I was still shaking when he poured me an oversized glass of wine. I was still shaking after I’d downed two of them. I was still shaking when he pulled me into his arms, whispered he was sorry, promised emphatically he would never do it again, and then carried me into our bathroom, where he proceeded to set me down in the shower.
He slowly washed my hair, caressing my scalp, giving me the most amazing massage that finally, finally, helped calm my nerves.
And all the anger faded away when he dried me with a towel, rubbed me up with lotion, and led me to bed. I should’ve shut him out. But I couldn’t. Not when he started at the balls of my feet, massaging every inch of my body until I was a puddle of goo. His hushed whispers of love as he spread my legs apart and slowly sank into me were all I needed to forget what he’d just done.