Sometimes I cringe when I look at my own website. I have no idea how I blink and another six months goes by with me neglecting my poor books and this site. Although I prefer to think of it less as neglect and more as percolating—my world is changing and with it, my writing. At least I’ve stopped saying “soon” and started acknowledging that I’m not sure when the words will flow again, but when they do, they will be words worth saying. At least I hope they will.
So much has happened this past year, my friends, I don’t know if I could even begin to catch you up. (For those who were following the goat decision on Facebook, we opted to wait until life settles down a bit. So, no goat.)
I can say that my view of love has changed and grown this past year. The dynamic in my extended family has shifted, my children are growing and our relationship is undergoing the inevitable metamorphosis that comes with emerging adulthood, and I have fallen truly and head-over-heels in love with a pretty amazing man. That last one didn’t look anything like a Hallmark movie, that’s for sure.
In my head, I knew it wouldn’t. But I still wasn’t totally prepared for the uneven messiness of it all. Looking back over the last year, I’m not even sure I could tell you when the crush turned to love or at what moment I knew it had. Because there was always this feeling of belonging. It just fit from the start. Not to say it was love at first sight—no, the love was forged over time. I just can’t pinpoint when.
I hate to talk about my love life too much here. Mostly because he’s an incredibly private person and would be super ticked at me. (So there is irony that he wound up with me, since I can be obnoxiously transparent with my life.) I suppose there are also times I’m afraid I’ll blink and this magical thing we’ve found will be gone, though I can’t imagine my life without him.
December 1, it will be one year since we went on our first date. It was truly the best date I’ve ever been on. I remember what we wore and how it felt to walk next to him as we wandered the city. We talked, so much and about so many things. He made me laugh. He made me think. He gave me butterflies. He still does all of those things. (Although sometimes he makes me yell now, too.)
I vacillate between marveling that it’s already been a year and that it’s only been a year. He is woven into my every day. He shares my moments, big and small. He’s the person my kids turn to when they need something or someone to talk to—sometimes even before me.
If you’ve followed my work for long enough, then you might know that when I write my novels, I usually have an actor in mind as I write them. It helps me envision mannerisms and speech patterns. The actor I had in mind for Devon McAlister, one of my favorite heroes, was Jeffrey Dean Morgan.
At first, the romantic in me took it as some sort of sign that my love bears an uncanny resemblance to Jeffrey Dean Morgan. As in, people stop the man on the street to comment about it. Although it should be noted he’s more Negan and less P.S. I Love You's Irish dude.
I can see why people think there’s a resemblance (it’s the dimples), but it’s not something that’s even on my radar now that I know him as well as I do. Besides, my guy is way hotter than Jeffrey Dean Morgan. (Sorry, Jeff.)
But, with it being our anniversary and all, it amused me to offer up all of Devon’s books for free. Because in some small way, I think the resemblance is what encouraged me to take a chance, so you could say Devon led me to my own love. And for that, I thank him.
Rolling hills that had been vibrant green just weeks ago were now muted in tone, as if they were taking a deep breath before bursting into the song of fall.