My Butterfly

getting pepperoni pizza—with extra cheese,” she added.
    A wide smile finally won the battle and shot across my face.
    “Pepperoni pizza with extra cheese it is,” I said, as I watched her push past me with her little, pleased self.
    “And we’re going out for our anniversary,” she said.
    Her words trailed behind her as she made her way into the kitchen.
    I swallowed hard. I wondered if she had forgotten.
    “Uh, Jules, you know I can’t make it for that day, right?” I asked, timidly.
    She stopped and faced me.
    “What?” she asked.
    And just like that, her smile was sad again.
    I felt my palms instantly grow sweaty, and my heart attempted to surrender for the both of us by jumping right out of my chest.
    “Remember, we were going to celebrate it that second week after,” I said to her.
    My voice came out even more timid this time, as her hollow eyes stared a hole into mine.
    Then, suddenly, a smile cracked across her face.
    “I know,” she said, in a much too cheerful voice.
    I stared at her blankly.
    “Did I scare you?” she asked, showing off a wide, toothy grin.
    I took in a slow, deep breath and then let out a sigh and lowered my head as I tried to hide the smile fighting its way to my face. Then, after a few seconds, I looked up and met her little, devious gaze again. She winked a big set of eyelashes at me and then spun around on her heels. That was my silent cue.
    As she spun, I dashed toward her and squeezed my biceps around her little body. Then, I scooped her up into my arms, as she screamed in surprise.
    “There’s no room for jokes like that in this house, pretty girl,” I said, planting a wet kiss on her cheek.
    She squealed again and wiped the back of her hand across her face, as I carried her to the living room and gently threw her onto the couch before I fell onto the surface next to her.
    “You have just officially lost all your demanding privileges,” I said, flashing her a wide but serious smile. “We’re getting sausage pizza.”
    “No,” she screamed.
    I started tickling her side and planted another wet kiss on her cheek.
    “Sausage pizza,” I said again.
    “Okay, okay,” she said, giggling and trying her best to squirm away from my hands.
    “What kind of pizza are we getting?” I asked, still running my fingers up and down her side.
    She continued to giggle and squirm.
    “Sausage pizza,” she screamed, through her laughter.
    I slowed my fingers and then rested my eyes in hers. I was pretty sure I had a smile as wide as the Missouri River planted on my face.
    “I’ll call it in,” she said, suddenly jumping out of my arms and up from the couch.
    She danced away, and I sat up and started to reach for the remote but then stopped.
    “Jules…,” I cautiously called into the other room.
    When I didn’t hear anything, I jumped up, ran into the kitchen and spotted her already on the phone.
    “Yes,” she said into the receiver, “one, large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese.”
    I scowled at her, and she smiled back. And I didn’t even try to fight the smile returning to my face, as I realized in that moment that I would eat a million pepperoni pizzas for that girl. And she knew it. Damn it.

Chapter Twelve
    Anniversary
     
     
    “I’ m sorry I had to be on-call tonight,” I said to her.
    She softly smiled at me and took my hand.
    “It’s fine,” she said. “I’m here. Happy anniversary, Will Stephens.”
    I smiled and planted my eyes in hers.
    “Happy anniversary, Jules,” I said. “And if it’s any consolation, I made a wish on one of those shooting stars of yours and asked for no calls tonight.”
    She lowered her eyes, shook her head and laughed.
    “You’re really bad at that,” she said.
    “What?” I asked, surprised.
    “You’re not supposed to tell me what you wished for or it won’t come…”
    “Don’t finish that,” I said, stopping her.
    I watched as she tried to bring her turned-up lips back to a straight position again.
    “I love you, Jules,” I said.
    A smile eventually won its way to her face.
    “I love you, too,” she said. “Now, what are we going to eat? I’m starving.”
    My eyes rested in hers for a second longer. She looked beautiful, as always. Her hair was down and fell perfectly around her face. And she was wearing a fitted, white top that hugged her in all the right places and tight blue jeans with little holes down the front of her thighs. The holes were put there on purpose, I had learned, unlike the