I sigh, but I remove the tissue paper from the top. I pull out the gift. A custom, genuine straw cowboy hat, with a brown leather band etched with flowers. Roses.

‘May.’ I take a sharp breath in through my nose as my fingers run over the roses. Just like the ones on her Roper Rivalry suit. ‘This is …’

‘It’s just a little something we wanted to leave you with.’ She looks away, clearing her throat. ‘All right. Get in the truck.’

I oblige and step up into the truck, one foot at a time. But I don’t want to. I want to share a million more moments with May.

I want to go for a ride with her down the Prosperity trail. I want to crack open seltzers and play a round of lacrosse under the dim lights of our backyard. I want to take her out to dinner and then laugh so hard at something she says that my drink almost snorts out my nose. I want to walk around town with her, wearing her jersey, so everyone knows I’m hers. I want to hear my name leave her lips like it did that night in the back of the truck, over and over and over. I want to see her smile when she makes a perfect goal, and the dry Oklahoma wind blows just right, and she looks like an angel, beaming as the sun beats down and the breeze tussles with her ponytail. I want to ask her if she’s ready for bed, and I want her to tell me she has to finish the chapter first. I want her in her glasses. In nothing but her giant Diamond Quad map shirt. I want her in pantsuits, in lacrosse uniforms, in Wranglers, in boots with butterflies on them. I want her in the first house we buy. I want her in my heart. I want her in my life.

‘Thanks,’ I say as I start the car.

Her brow furrows, her full lips turning downward. ‘Well, yeah, of course. We couldn’t send you back without a proper hat.’

I shake my head. ‘Not just for the hat, May. For everything else. For finding the room in your heart to forgive me.’

She laughs, one that dissolves quickly. Sweeping a hair from her forehead, she looks down at her sandals. ‘There was always room for you there. Always will be. If you ever feel like comin’ back.’

God. It’s been five years, and I’d still drop everything, cancel my flight, fuck my contract over, just so I could stay here with her.