Page 201 of The Way I Hate Him
“What is this?” I ask.
“Something I thought you could wear,” he says.
Pulse beating rapidly, my heart in my throat, I open the present, and Cassidy’s old cardigan that has now been patched up rests in my hands. “But this is—”
“Aubree said you could borrow it for the day.”
I look at the old cardigan, the large embroidered flowers colorful against the beige of the fabric. “Who fixed it?”
“I found someone who could help bring it back to life. Like I said, Aubree expects it back, but for today, she said it’s all yours.”
Tears flood my eyes as I look up at Hayes. “What are we doing today?”
“If it’s all right with you, I thought we’d eat breakfast here and then go to some antique stores to look for some stained and damaged vintage tablecloths.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “From there, I thought we could go to Pieces and Pages to pick out a puzzle, bring it back here, and then watch these.” He pulls out two Blu-ray discs from the drawer in front of him.
Sixteen CandlesandCan’t Buy Me Love.
My hand rises to my mouth.More tears.
“Hayes,” I say softly.
“It’s your first birthday without her,” he says quietly. “I can’t bring her back, but I can bring back her memory.”
Reaching for him, I pull him in and wrap my arms around his neck, clutching him tightly. He runs his hand up and down my back as I squeeze him.
I know for a fact Matt would have never done something like this for me. He wasn’t ever really thoughtful and didn’t express a deep interest in my life on this level. And that’s probably one of many reasons why I wasn’t broken when Matt broke up with me. Thinking back to it now, I’m free to do what I want with my life without feeling like I was being held back.
Hayes would never hold me back.
He’d never make me feel less than I am.
He’d never cruelly tell me I was boring or not entertaining.
He doesn’t have a compassionless heart.
And that’s exactly why I love him, because even though he might be closed off and quiet when it comes to his personal life, when he wants to open up, he gives you every last inch of him, and that’s what he’s giving me now.
I release him and press my hand to his chest. “This is the best gift I could have ever asked for. Thank you.”
“Anything for you,” he says before pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “Now let’s eat breakfast so we can start our day.”
“Donut first, then protein.” I smirk.
“You lead the way, baby.”
* * *
“What about this one?”Hayes asks, holding up a white tablecloth with strawberries along the edge. “It looks like it has a mustard stain on it.”
I walk over to him, and he holds out the tablecloth, showing a yellow stain right near the corner, distorting the color of one of the strawberries.
He’s been so adorable while going from antique store to antique store. He’s been invested in the search, offering to buy every tablecloth we’ve come across, but I’ve been very picky. Just like Cassidy. It can’t just be any tablecloth. It has to have a printed design, it needs to be vintage, and it needs to be marred in some way. We’ve come across some gorgeous ones, but that’s what the problem is—they’ve been beautiful, and we don’t want beautiful. We want the rejects.
I examine the strawberry. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look that bad, like someone could hide this edge.”
“Could they hide the giant brown mark in the middle?” he asks, showing off a stain that makes me question what ended up on this tablecloth. I’m going to say it’s pudding.
“Wow, look at that. It’s huge.”
