Page 119 of Taking the Pitch
“When?”
“When I booked the appointment,” I explain, starting the Jeep and pulling out of the parking lot to our next stop.
“But how did you know how much to pay? You didn’t even know what I was going to get.” She pauses and looks at me, narrowing her eyes. “You paid an obscene amount for us to have the shop to ourselves, didn’t you?”
Lifting a shoulder, I keep my eyes on the road. “Depends on what you think is an ‘obscene amount’.”
Amelia snorts. “That answers my question.”
Chancing a look at her, I take my eyes off the road and throw her a wink before focusing back on the road. Flicking my blinker on, I change lanes and take a right at the next intersection.
“So, what’s next on Judd’s birthday extravaganza list?”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as we get closer to our next stop. Doubts race through me, wondering if it’s too soon, if she’s going to hate where I propose to her, will she even say yes?
Amelia’s hand lands on my forearm, jerking me out of my thoughts. “Judd? Did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, Shortcake, I zoned out for a minute. What did you say?”
“I asked what was next on your list of birthday surprises.”
I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing the back of her hand. “You’ll see shortly.”
My heartbeat increases the closer we get until I’m convinced it’s going to beat right out of my chest. I make the last turn and pull into the parking lot, instantly feeling Amelia’s body go still.
I put the Jeep in park and turn off the engine, filling the cab with silence.
“Why are we here, Judd?” Amelia asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Clearing my throat, I take a breath and let it out. “Because I want to tell your parents about the girl I’ve fallen in love with.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
amelia
Judd takesmy hand in his and leads me down the path towards my parent’s graves. The path that will forever be ingrained in my memory.
Eight rows down, three plots to the left.
After their funeral, I found myself here almost daily. No matter the weather, I’d sit in front of the fresh piles of dirt for hours, and just stare. Trying to will the piles away and my parents back into existence.
Bruno trots beside me, looking up at me every few steps as the memories of those days run through my head.
My feet slow when we approach the eighth row. Judd notices and stops, turning around to check on me. “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering I turn my head to the left and let my eyes drift down to the headstone with ‘Morgan’ engraved across the top and my parents’ names written on each side.
“We don’t have to go if it’s too hard.”
“No, I want to. I just didn’t expect to come here today.” I tug on Judd’s hand and lead him over to their graves, running my hand along the top of the smooth marble when we get there. “HiMomma, Hi Daddy. I’m sorry it’s been a while,” I say, kissing my fingers and laying on their headstones.
Judd sets the giant bag he somehow hid in the Jeep down and starts pulling things out of it. First is a potted mini Christmas tree that’s no bigger than a foot tall. He sets it on Mom’s side of the headstone and dives back into the bag, producing a large wool blanket with a buffalo plaid pattern. “Are you alright with me laying it down here?” he asks, pointing to the grassy space where the large piles of dirt used to be.
I nod, and Judd shakes the blanket out, laying it down over the grass. He pulls a variety of containers out next, placing them in the middle.
“Are we, did you? Are we having a picnic?” I finally get out. Watching as Judd places a bottle of chilled wine and tumblers next to the containers.
How is the wine still chilled?
