Page 3 of Say You Will

April 1, 2018

Dare

I flipped the calendar to the new month and stared at the red heart filling April first’s square. Swooning happened; my guy just too darn sweet with this scarlet reminder of our love. Three years ago, Ace and I had our first official date. Yes, there’d been dinner the night before, but it had been an off-hand accident due to the fact we’d worked late and were starving.

Opening Day has become a romantic jest between the two of us. We slide inappropriate baseball innuendo into any and all conversations and make a huge deal of the day. During the Red Sox season opener, we’re glued to the couch with brownies and beer and still playing our game. Each year we add in a new rule to flub because, hello, alcohol. I’m already looking forward to our festivities.

My phone pings with an incoming text.

I’ll be late. Grrr...

Uh-oh. It’s four words—three and a half—but I can practically feel the anger coming through my phone. My blood simmered alongside his.

Wait! This better not be an April Fool’s joke.

I’m so fucking sorry. This is not how I wanted our night to go.

Ugh. Not a joke. Ace had specifically scheduled himself for the morning shift, fully expecting to be home in plenty of time for the game.

I’ve got a cashier, but my shift called out. Again.

I stifled a groan even though there was no one around to hear me. Ace expected his staff to work when scheduled and excessive call-outs meant you could kiss your employment goodbye.

This put a significant cramp in our anniversary plans. There had to be something I could do to salvage our night. What to do? What to do…

At exactly seven, I breezed through the pharmacy’s front doors, dinner, brownies, and my tablet streaming the game—the national anthem playing—in hand. Ace came straight to me, brushed a kiss to my lips, and whispered those three amazing words, “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

With a leer and a smirk, I held up the bag and tablet. “Dinner and the game? Since you have someone to watch the front?”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken.” Ace planted a very thorough kiss on me, stealing the very breath from my lungs. How he could touch my heart via my mouth couldn’t ever be explained. Nor did I want it to be. I loved this man, tip to toe. Deciding to propose really should be a no-brainer, if only my brain would get itself in line.

Ace relieved me of the bag containing our dinner. “Let’s head to the office. Bobby, we’ll be upstairs. Call if you need me.”

“Sure thing.” Bobby fired off some finger guns at us and winked. “Enjoy your dinner.”

My cheeks heated. Damn that a college senior could make me blush. “Hey Bobby, how’s senior year treating you?” When I’d first met Bobby at Ace’s store, he was a freshman at the local U. A six-foot-four beanpole who finally filled out. Muscles looked great on the kid.

“It’s good. Go eat while it’s quiet. You never know when the swarms will show.”

“Thanks.” I joined Ace where he waited at the door to the office. Up we went, falling into the office chairs in the tightly packed room. One-way glass gave the staff and me a bird’s eye view of the store, and we stood for a moment looking out, ensuring all was calm.

Ace

Few things in life truly make me upset. An umpire or ref making a bad call. Losing a beloved team member because of trades, retirement, or injury. An ill family member or friend. None of those compare to an employee calling out on a night when I’ve made plans. And not just any plans but plans on Opening Day and the celebration of my third anniversary with Dare. You don’t mess with my beloved Red Sox and partner. Yes, in that order, but only on April first...and maybe the playoffs.

I hated texting him. Fuck, I couldn’t even call him. Dare loved the Sox almost as much as I did, and I knew he’d been looking forward to our annual celebration game. I’d even had a new rule for us to play.

What had been worse was Dare hadn’t replied to my text. He must have been furious, but I knew his anger wouldn’t have been directed at me. I hoped the idiot I just canned never showed his face in my store again. He called out for the fourth time in a month; I told him I’d mail him his last paycheck. I manage a business; I don’t have time for employees to pull BS like that. I’d rather work more hours until I hired a reliable employee than deal with call-outs or no-shows. This was also the last time I’d accept someone from another store before I vetted them myself.

At seven on the dot, the front doors opened and in breezed the light of my life. Never had I seen a more glorious image than that of my man in his Big Papi jersey. His hands were full of bags and a tablet playing the national anthem, our team displayed across the screen standing at attention.

I had to kiss him. Didn’t care who was watching. Besides, Bobby has seen it all. Dare and I always kissed hello and goodbye, sometimes just a peck, sometimes it was more like this, like I had to show my guy just how much I loved and adored him. When I turned forty, I said “Fuck it” and refused to curb my enthusiasm for life and love. If anyone cared, they were more than welcome to shop elsewhere.

There were days I looked at Dare and wondered how I scored this amazing younger man who let me sweep him off his feet and who rocked my world in the bedroom. To think I’d almost sworn off men after my last boyfriend, but Mr. Darren Goldman, Pharmacist, walked into my pharmacy and ran away with my heart. The thief.

“Let’s head to the office,” I said, breaking off the kiss and relieving Dare of the bags. “Bobby, we’ll be upstairs. Call if you need me.”