He eyed it for a moment, the flames reflecting in his eyes, and he processed the gesture for a few seconds before he eventually took it. His fingers spun it around gently, like he was looking for some sign of the contents on the exterior. Then he cracked it open, seeing the watch sitting inside, the silver band and the matching face. The battery had died a long time ago, but it’d been replaced. I’d had it cleaned too. He stared at it for a while, like he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“I know it’s not as nice as the other watches you wear…but it belonged to my father.”
He turned his head to me quickly, his eyes wider than before, as if the gesture took him by surprise.
“I want you to have it.” I couldn’t wear it, and I’d always imagined giving it to someone special. There just wasn’t anyone special enough before Deacon.
He turned back to the watch and stared at it for a moment before he lifted it from the box and got a better look at it. Then he opened the metal clasp, slid it onto his wrist, and clicked it shut. It shone in the glow from the fire, decades-old, but still the most expensive thing my father ever owned. “Baby…” He was at a loss for words, even more than usual.
I smiled as I watched him wear it, knowing my father would have loved Deacon…if they’d ever had the chance to meet. “It looks great on you. Fits perfectly.”
He stared at the face of the watch, watching the second hand tick by. “This means a lot to me…thank you.”
“I don’t expect you to wear it all the time—”
“It’s the best gift anyone has ever given me. I’ll always wear it.” He lowered his hand then turned to me.
Now the nerves died away, the fear of rejection gone. It was one of the most valuable things I owned, and I would wear it myself if I could. I had my mother’s jewelry, and I didn’t want my father’s watch to sit in the bottom of a drawer somewhere. I wanted to see it on the man I loved.
His hand went to mine, and he grabbed it, interlocking our fingers.
My eyes had moistened, so I took a deep breath and blinked a couple times, not wanting tears to ruin the beautiful moment.
“I’m honored that you want me to have it.” He held my hand on his knee, looking into my eyes with a new layer of love, like his words weren’t empty, but they really meant the world to him.
“You’re the love of my life…” This time with Deacon made me self-reflect, made me realize my divorce really was all my fault. I’d settled for a man I didn’t truly love. I was too young to know how love could be. Now that I’d met Deacon, I knew what real love was. If I really loved my ex, I would have done the dishes like I did at Deacon’s place. I would have gone the extra mile to make it work, but I didn’t. I bent over backward for Deacon…a million times.
His eyes softened, and he squeezed my hand a little tighter. “And you’re mine.”
The fireplace in his room burned quietly, facing the bed, giving us a beautiful glow in which to view each other, an aesthetic to make the moment even more romantic. The logs gave a slight pop when they became too hot, and the flames licked the wood audibly. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed nothing but darkness outside, except the bright stars overhead in the far distance behind the mountain.
He was on top of me, rocking into me slowly, keeping the same pace as he had at the beginning, like this gentle lovemaking was enough for him. It had nothing to do with being quiet or keeping the bed from creaking. It was simply enough.
I gripped the back of his neck as I looked into his gaze, falling more in love with him, finding a deeper connection than had been there before. I trusted him to protect me, to love me, to always take care of me…and to stand up for me. He was the family I’d been longing for, the piece missing from my heart. Now I had somewhere I belonged, and there was no more loneliness. There were no more frozen burritos in front of the TV. There were no more emails on my phone that were more important than staring at him across the dinner table. I loved his son like he was my son, fantasized about taking their last name so we could be a real family someday. I imagined having more children with him, my belly round and my feet swollen, waddling around the house in a loose dress as I waited for the months to trickle by. I pictured the rest of our lives together, doing this very thing in our golden years, gray in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes. It was everything I wanted, but I was in no rush to have it, because that very moment was perfect. There was no rush to move forward, not when we were living in a moment that would be a memory for us to talk about decades down the road. He would be my husband someday, whenever that was meant to happen, so I’d given him the watch…because I had complete faith it would happen.