Chapter 27
Our fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Seventy-five years old.
Both of us.
A little slower.
A little grayer.
A few more aches and pains.
But still us.
Still holding hands.
Still laughing at the same bad jokes.
Still in love.
More than ever.
We didn’t have a big party.
Just family.
Leo and Emma.
DJ and his wife, Lila.
Eleanor and her fiancé, Sam.
And the newest addition—DJ and Lila’s baby boy.
Our first great-grandson.
Leo Carter III.
We called him Trey.
He was three months old.
Perfect.
We sat around the dining room table.
The same table we’d eaten at for forty years.
The same table where we’d cried.
Laughed.
Fought.
Healed.
David held Trey.
He was so gentle with him.
So careful.
Like he was holding the most precious thing in the world.
Which he was.
“Can you believe it?” David said, looking around the table. “Fifty years. Five generations of Carters. All because I asked a pretty girl to dance at a college party.”
I smiled.
“Lucky me,” I said.
“Lucky us,” he corrected.
Leo raised his glass.
“To fifty years,” he said. “To the best parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents anyone could ever ask for. We love you.”
“To fifty years!” everyone echoed.
We clinked glasses.
Later that night, after everyone had gone home, David and I went up to the roof deck.
The stars were bright.
The city was quiet.
He pulled me close.
We slow-danced.
No music.
Just the sound of our breathing.
The wind in the trees.
“Remember when we danced on our wedding night?” he said. “You were so beautiful. I could barely breathe.”
“I was so nervous,” I said. “I thought I’d step on your feet.”
“You did,” he said, laughing. “Several times. I didn’t mind. I’d have let you step on my feet all night. Forever.”
He spun me slowly.
“Fifty years,” he said. “It’s not enough. I want fifty more. A hundred. A thousand. I’ll never get enough of you.”
“Me neither,” I said.
I rested my head on his chest.
I listened to his heart beat.
Strong.
Steady.
Familiar.
“I love you, David Carter,” I said.
“I love you too,” he said. “More than words. More than time. More than anything.”
We danced.
Under the stars.
Two old people.
With a lifetime of memories behind them.
And whatever time was left, still ahead.
May you like
Together.
Always.
