“Can I drive you down?”
“Okay.”
“And can I see you tomorrow?”
She smiled. “I guess you’re on a roll, Linc.”
I smiled as I slid into the driver’s seat. I pulled away from the house that had been another kind of prison to me.
I didn’t look back.
I was at the shop before it opened the next morning. I had
barely slept all night, thinking of Sunny. I had kissed her when I dropped her off. A long, gentle kiss that promised more. I would let her set the pace. I made sure we had each other’s phone numbers and even texted her a few times just to check in. By her fast responses, I knew she was feeling the same anxiety. The last time I’d kissed her goodnight, we’d been torn apart. Morning couldn’t come fast enough for me.
She came to the door, rolling her eyes. “I’m not even open yet.”
“But I can come in, right? I smelled biscuits.”
“Of course you did.”
I stepped inside, leaning down and brushing a kiss to her cheek. “Hi.”
She turned and kissed my mouth. It was far too brief for my liking. “Hi.”
“You okay today?”
She nodded.
“You look tired,” I murmured, tracing a finger under her eye.
“I read some of your letters.”
“Just some?”
“They were difficult to read. I had to stop.” She hesitated, and I saw the look of pain in her eyes. “They upset me. Knowing what you went through. That you were alone and scared.”
“I’m here now. I was tougher than he thought. I was fighting to get back to you.”
She nodded, looking as if she wanted to say more. But I wanted today to be about us. Now.
“Um, biscuits?” I prompted. “Hungry here.”
“Right,” she replied, wiping her eyes and straightening her shoulders. “Savory or sweet?”
“Um, both?”
“Sit down.”
I watched her from the spot I chose in the corner. She moved gracefully, confident with herself. I tried not to stare, but she was so beautiful. Even years later, there was an air of sweetness around her.
She placed a plate in front of me, piled high, and a small pot of jam alongside of it. “Milk?” she asked.
I tried not to be too pleased that she remembered I always liked milk with biscuits. I shook my head. “Cappuccino, please.”
“You never liked coffee.”
I shrugged. “I learned.”