It’s been exactly six months since I walked out of Aran’s life. When I got home from her place, I sat down and wrote out my future on the back of a piece of mail. There’s been many days where I’ve felt like the Tasmanian Devil whirling around to fulfill everything on that envelope; be here, sit here, attend this meeting, sign this, sign that, talk to so-and-so, smile, shake hands…it’s exhausting. I’ve got everything I wanted, and yet I’m not fulfilled.

After graduation, I left California behind and haven’t been back. I went home to Colorado and began searching for a much better outpatient care facility for my mom. She is happily settled into a new home, and is thriving and in remission. The best part is that I get to be close by to witness it.

I was drafted in the first round to the Denver Nuggets. You never know what’s gonna happen when it comes to the draft. I performed well in the combine, and heard the rumors of what teams were good player environments and which ones weren’t. At first, I just wanted to be drafted, but now I’m thankful that I’m back in my home state with a great organization.

I’ve got one final week to myself before I have to report to team practice. Nothing is scheduled that I have to attend. I should fly somewhere for a vacation before the season starts, but I have no one to go with. Luke just started his new job and can’t take any time off. My mom is happy to be in her new home and threatens to never leave it. So, I sit here this morning enjoying the snow-capped mountain views from my apartment near City Park. Alone.

Aran is the last thing on my original list that hasn’t been marked as complete. She’s also the one dream that doesn’t have a plan attached to it. She’s hard to follow. She mostly keeps to herself, but every now and again her name pops up on a picture from an Internet search. She won a photo contest back in the early summer that my agent stumbled across. It was me rebounding the ball for that first tournament win—the night I left her. She has photo credits on a Texans football pre-season game and an FC Cincinnati soccer match. My agent is quietly trying to track her down through PDN Magazine, the sponsor of that photo contest, but they aren’t cooperating due to privacy laws.

My plans to win her back all seem so far-fetched and ridiculous that I can’t imagine them working. She told me to leave it up to Fate. I figure it’s more like Murphy’s Law working against me. She said to follow the path until I am forced to go left or right. That hasn’t happened yet, so I guess I’m supposed to keep going straight for now.

God, what I wouldn’t give to rush in and whisk her away to some sun and sand for the week. Hold that luscious, naked body in my arms, inhaling every inch of her. Every day that passes without seeing her burns a deeper hole in my heart. I type texts out to her and let them sit on my phone as drafts. I follow her on social media now, but she doesn’t update her status often. Her photography website hasn’t been updated since last winter.

I’ve come close to responding to the monthly texts that Jenna sends me of Paege, but haven’t. Like clockwork, on the 17th of every month, I get the updated picture of the baby with some sort of cute sticker showing her current age. She’s six months old today. Just once, I wish she’d send me a photo of Blaze.

This is what it means to be ruined by love. I’ve had exactly one hundred eighty-five dark nights since I left her. Each new day hurts more than the one before it. I keep waiting for some sign to come to me, but nothing does. I’ve already had the epiphany…I love her. I’ve known that for a long time. Even the NBA gutter groupies that have been thrown at me can’t change my mind.

She’s the fire within me. Always has been, since that first moment I saw her coming down the steps in those ridiculous heels of hers. I knew I’d wrap those legs around me. I just didn’t know they’d be covered in a cast. Damn, that sassy fucking spirit of hers. She keeps it mostly hidden during the day, but unleashes it at night in bed. She’s exactly what I need, so why am I sitting here alone doing nothing about it?

I fiddle with my phone and open up my texting app again. Pressing down on Jenna’s name, the text from this morning opens up. I scroll up and down comparing the pictures month to month. Damn, babies grow fast. She’s got a full head of hair now. Her eyes never changed color—they are still that light denim blue.

I still can’t tell who she looks like exactly. I see a little bit of Aran in the shape of her eyes. My mind wonders off to what our baby would look like, when my phone buzzes in my hand. I swipe across the screen again since it went dim while I was daydreaming. It’s another message from Jenna. What the fuck?

J: C’mon Kyle. It’s been 6 months. Aren’t you even gonna ask about her?

I don’t know how to respond. What do I say? I’m an idiot. I’m waiting on a sign that we’re meant to be together. I fucked up and walked out when I should have stayed.

K: I’m a dumb jock. What can I say? I fucked up.

J: Hey, watch it. I married a jock, and he’s the smartest, most amazing man I know.

K: Sorry. Only meant to insult myself.

J: Yeah, you fucked up. Admit it. Move on. You’re only human.

K: She said Fate would bring us together if we were meant to be. So I wait for Fate.

J: Fuck that! Do you love her?

K: Yes.

J: Then get your ass here and tell her that. She’s only home for a few days. Egit.

K: Ha. She’s called me that before.

J: Next flight out is in 3 hours. Be on it. I’ll pick you up. See ya soon. :)

Fuuuck. Three hours? Am I really going to do this? My travel agent books the flight within minutes of my call. I gather everything I need for a few days in sunny California, and I’m ready to go in a half-hour. How is that possible? I guess this is what she means by Fate. Things fall into place when they’re meant to happen. Fuck me. Even traffic in Denver is cooperating, and that almost never happens. I shake my head in disbelief. Jenna, I think you’re our Fate.

I glide through security, and make it to the gate in plenty of time. The flight isn’t boarding yet, so I take a seat and people watch. The terminal is packed with business travelers, but a few couples and families mill about. One of the couples sit next to me, holding hands and chattering about their vacation plans.

“Excuse me?” the man asks. “Would you mind taking our picture? We’re on our honeymoon, and this will kick off the adventure and a lifetime of pictures.”

“Uh, sure. I don’t normally take pictures, but I’ll give it a try,” I say, taking the phone from the lady. She’s got the same phone as me so that should be easy. “Say cheese.” They both smile and I snap a few to let them choose the best one.

“Thank you,” she says, taking her phone back.

“You look familiar,” the man says. “But I can’t place you.” He squints his eyes at me like he’s thinking hard, but isn’t coming up with anything.

“I’m Kyle Daniels. The newest draftee to the Denver Nuggets,” I inform them.

“I should have known with your height. Sorry, I’m not much of a sports guy, but it’s nice to meet you,” he says holding out his hand to shake.

“So, you’re on your honeymoon. Where are you headed?” I ask.

“I’m taking her to Fiji. We’re gonna play in the sun, and be naked for a week,” he states emphatically. I shake my head, laughing. That’s the best comeback I’ve ever heard.

“Devan, you can’t say that to strangers,” she shrieks. “Sorry. He has no filter.”

“It’s okay, ma’am. I fully expect you to be naked at some point on your honeymoon,” I chuckle as I watch a flush creep up her neck.

“Where are you headed to?” he asks.

“Well, I’m about to go find the woman I love in California, and tell her just that. We’ve been separated for months, and I don’t want any distance between us anymore,” I explain.

“Aww,” the lady remarks. “Caveman-style. I love it.”

I laugh out loud with that remark. These two are perfect for each other. Their life will never be boring. “I don’t know about that. Aran would hurt me if I tried to drag her to Denver by her hair.”

They call for first class boarding and I stand, wishing them much love and luck in their new life together. The stewardess directs me to my seat, and asks me the perfunctory round of questions for customer service, but I decline. I need a clear mind to plan my words. The entire flight goes smoothly, but no words come to mind on what I want to say. This is pathetic. I can plan my whole life and career in an hour, but I can’t figure out a paragraph of words in three hours. Absolutely pathetic.

I disembark and make my way to passenger pick up. Looking around, I don’t see Jenna. I start looking around for women with a baby, and there she is, pushing a stroller back and forth and singing a lullaby. I knew she sang from the stories Aran told, but I’ve never actually heard her. She’s magnificent. “Hey, there Mama,” I say in greeting.

In true Jenna style, she hops up on top of the bench she was sitting on and gives me a big bear hug. “It’s so good to see you again,” she murmurs. I help her climb back down, and we stroll out to where her car is waiting.

We exit the airport and begin to make our way to Piedmont, where Nick and Jenna live. ”Do we have a plan, or know her schedule?” I ask.

“She travels now for PDN Magazine, as a contracted sports photog,” she advises. “She gets to choose her assignments, which is nice. She’s taking a few days off and is coming home to rest before heading out again.”

“And you thought this would be perfect timing to do this?” I ask.

“Ha,” she barks. “Perfect timing doesn’t exist. When you love someone, you tell them. It’s as simple as that. Aran knows that Nick and I love her, and we tell her all the time. But there’s a spark missing in her. It’s been gone since you left. She needs to hear it from you,” she says. She looks me right in the eye before admitting, “I’ve been watching you. You seem to have gotten your shit together.”

“I’ve tried to pull it together, yes,” I concede.

“And something is still missing, isn’t it?” she asks.

I nod to her in agreement.

“That’d be Aran. Good. This is gonna work out well,” she says, smiling so big, her dimples crease her cheeks. I catch my reflection in the side glass, smiling like a lunatic as we finish the ride, with Jenna providing a private concert of current Top 40 songs.