“Sure is. You were the most obnoxious, cocky jock in the universe,” I giggled.
“And you… you loved to flip that blond ponytail in my face and tell me off… And you also loved it when I-”
“Nate, stop! Don’t remind me…”
“It all worked out. Look, here we are today… starting all over again.”
Nate patted my leg as I turned left and drove down Cherry Lane, heading for my childhood home. “Oh, would you like to go past your place first?”
He shook is head. “I didn’t really live there,” Nate pointed out. “I spent most of my time at your house. Your mom even let me sleep on the couch sometimes when I knew my mother wouldn’t be home.”
“Okay.” I swallowed and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as we drew closer to my old address. Slowly, I pulled up in front of the house, put the car in park and only then looked up at my childhood home. “It’s exactly the same!” I exclaimed, relieved and grateful. I turned off the ignition and hopped out to lean against the hood, gazing at every detail of the house. “It still has the same curtains as when I lived here.”
Nate gave me a funny look. “Did you really believe it would still be the same?”
“I just don’t like change. Most changes,” I amended, unable to stop myself from giving Nate the sappiest look of my life.
A woman chose that moment to walk out on the porch, holding a leash attached to a little white dog. Realizing that it must be odd for her to see two people staring at her house, I quickly explained, “Sorry, we’re about to leave. I was raised here… and we were in town. So I wanted to drive by and take a look at my old house. My name is Tammy Burke and this is Nate Jackson, he was raised here in Somerset too.”
The woman gave us a funny look. “Really? You’re the star quarterback I’ve been reading about in the paper. And actually, would you like to come inside for a moment? I have something I think you might want, Tammy.”
“Oh. Uh, sure,” I agreed, a little taken aback that she knew who we were, but afire with curiosity. Nate and I waited in my old living room while the woman fetched something from the bedrooms in the back.
“Here.” She handed me a yellowing envelope. “The neighbors up the street found this in an old desk they were cleaning out to donate last winter. They said that the letter had come to their address years ago, but it was addressed to Tammy Burke… and it must have gotten pushed to the back of the desk drawer and never been given to you?”
“Uh… yeah,” I said, seeing my own name written inNate’s handwriting.“Is this what I think it is?” I asked the man himself.
“Yup. That’s the letter I tried to send you,” Nate confirmed. “I guess I switched the house numbers around and sent it to your neighbors address instead.”
“Thanks so much. Please excuse us,” I told the lady who was petting her dog.
We almost ran out of the door and to the car. Then together, Nate and I sat there in front of my old house as tears ran down my cheeks, pausing to read and reread every word, cupping the yellowed paper carefully in my hands. Of course, itwasthe letter he had sent explaining why he never wanted to tell me goodbye.
“So, uh… apology accepted?” Nate asked after we took a moment to let it all sink in.
“I can’t believe you switched the numbers on the address.” Nate was here and everything would be alright now, so I started to laugh. “Apology accepted… again for at least the third time. This has been so surreal.” I reached to turn the key in the ignition, and Nate grabbed his phone. And I gave him a questioning look.
“Clinton called me yesterday, but I was too busy trying to figure out how to get here as fast as possible to call him back. Go ahead and drive, I’m just going to give him a quick call.” Nate raised the phone to his ear and waited as I pulled out on the highway and turned toward the east.
I waited too, curious. Besides, I needed to wait until Nate was off the phone before I turned on the radio, ready to listen to songs that would echo what I was feeling in my heart.
“Hey, Clinton. Sorry, I didn’t call you back yesterday, I-” Indistinct babbling cut off Nate, and I wished I could hear what Clinton was saying. Instead, all I got were Nate’s reactions to Clinton’s words. He jumped from confused to understanding, then to shocked, then went around the emotional cul-de-sac and landed at hearty laughter. “Thanks for letting me know, but don’t worry about it. I’m done fighting fate.” Nate hung up, chuckling so hard that tears formed in his eyes.
“What?” I demanded, not wanting to be left out.
“Clinton was panicking,” Nate laughed breathlessly, “because his secretary thought she had made a mistake. She found the marriage license from our fake marriage under a stack of papers on his desk and ran the form to the courthouse to be filed before the expiration date. He was supposed to shred it but he got busy and forgot. So, we really ARE married. Legally, married. No more fake business…”
“We’re married… for real?” I asked cautiously, just making sure I understood Nate correctly.
“For real,” Nate hugged me so hard, I had to fight not to let my hands cause the car to swerve. I started chuckling too, but not as heartily as Nate, and then we had to pass around my box of tissues because we couldn’t stop laughing… and shedding a few tears of joy.
This couldn’t be a coincidence. It may have taken us years to realize it, but we were always meant to be together.
“I’m done fighting fate.”I gazed fondly at my real husband as he wiped his eyes.He said it all, and I couldn’t agree more.
