? -> !

Dear Ryan,

In exactly 3 nights from now, you will be home. 

I have my outfit all picked out for the first time I'll see you. It's this adorable champagne-colored, ruffley shirt from Gap that my mom picked out of a sale rack. I hated it on the hanger, loved it on my body. We paired it with a pretty gold watch and a double looping belt, and then some skinny jeans with pretty gold sandals. I'm going for the "I'm not trying too hard, yet I still look stylish" look. You probably won't even notice. Which I'm kind of thankful for..because knowing me my bra strap will show or my fly will be unzipped. 

I got my Indian tan on, and I lost 5 pounds while I was there (not on purpose, but an added bonus). 

My hair is long and healthy, I don't have any zits (probably just jinxed that), and I'm finally getting over my cold & crazy jet lag.

I'm trying to stay super busy the next 3 days so that I don't drive my mom insane. 

Saturday: lake, workout, cleaning, poster-making day

Sunday: church, family dinner, skyping with my best girlfriends

Monday: workout, vacuum all the cars, pedicure, shower, YOU. 

I keep playing it all over and over in my head. 

Am I going to cry? Are you going to look at me the way you used to? What will our first words be? 

Everyone tells me: 

"Oh he'll probably be awkward and not touch you for a few days." 

or

"He'll probably propose the next day!" 

or  

"Well, I hope it works out for you. The right thing will." 

I hate that last statement, even though I know it's true. 

I'm trying not to have expectations. Trying. 

I know that no matter what, we both have been led to this point right here. 

I have no regrets. I know that I'm here for a reason. 

And yet, I'm still kinda scared of you. 

But I'm ready for this big fat question mark to *hopefully* turn into one giant exclamation point. 

I just want to love you again. I just want you to love me again. 

? -> ! 

Love, W.