June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

“I would’ve waited forever, Junebug…but I’m really glad we didn’t have to wait that long.” “You mean it?” I whisper. “Of course I mean it.” I kiss him again—hard, messy, and painfully beautiful. Just like us.

Never underestimate a man willing to wait forever for the woman he loves, for there is nothing he’s not capable of. Noble to some. A fool to many. But to that woman? He is everything.

“Twenty-two years ago, I tossed a toy elephant into your crib, trying to give you comfort in the only way I could. And I knew in that moment as you gazed at me through the crib slats with your big blue eyes… I knew you were destined to become my comfort.” Emotion sweeps through me, stealing my words for a moment. I swallow. “That’s exactly what you became. You were the laughter on the other side of my tears, the solace to quell my nightmares, and the rainbow after every storm. You saved my life, June Bailey.”

“I want to dare to dream with you forever, Junebug. On top of being my best friend, my lover, my soul mate, my comfort and my courage…will you be my wife?”

They accept that they can’t change what we are, and they would rather love us than leave us. They accept Brant as the boy they raised and as the man who fell in love with their daughter. And above all, they accept this: Just as we cannot force ourselves to love someone, we cannot force ourselves to unlove them either. Fate can be foolish, and fate can be careless. But fate is always true.

“Have a remarkable day, my darling daughter,” my father says, his eyes creased with emotion. Canting his head down, he gives my arm a tender squeeze as he whispers in my ear, “Each remarkable day paves the way toward a truly remarkable life.”

“I love you so much,” I murmur, stroking my palm down his stubbled cheek as his dimples wink back at me. “I love you, Junebug. More than you’ll ever know,” he replies, planting a kiss on my hairline. He breathes in deeply. “More than you could ever dare to dream.”

“I’m serious. Age doesn’t change anything.” With her chin propped against my arm, she glances up at me with big, glittering eyes. “You’ll still be Brant and I’ll still be June.”

June’s water broke. I’m going to be a father. My God, I’m going to be a father. And I’m going to be a good father. Like Andrew. I’m going to build tree houses and wear funny slippers and make rhymes and stand at the bus stop every morning before work telling my child to have a remarkable day. I’m going to cook family dinners, host barbecues, sing lullabies by the light of the moon, and look for rainbows after every storm. I’m going to be present. I’m going to be brave. I’m going to put my family first, like my own father never did. Always. Forever. Until my very last breath. They. Come. First.

And as June squeezes my hand beneath the pile of children and sends me a love-laced smile, her eyes twinkling blue and brilliant, I realize that I no longer fear my lasts. Because I know— Every last will be with them.