Page 34 of Forever Mine
However, we don’t freely gossip about personal stuff. If he asks me something, point blank, I tell him the truth, and vice versa.
Going back to what we’d been talking about, she comments, “You look very fit. How long have you played soccer?”
“Since I was able to walk on two legs. You’ll need to come and watch a game sometime. I miss having my cheerleader in the stands.”
“I’ll be sure to bring pom-poms.”
“Elijah would love that. He has his own pair.”
Liz adjusts on the stool and crosses one leg over the other. “I like him. He’s sweet.”
Getting two plates out of the cabinet, I set them down next to the stove. “He’s the love of my life.”
“He’s also insanely gorgeous. You’re a very lucky guy.”
Pride and love cohabitate inside my heart. “I really am.”
I finish mixing the pasta and spoon some onto a plate, then add toasted pine nuts before placing it in front of her.
“Dig in. Hope you like it.”
Her mouth quirks. “You did say it was my favorite.”
She scoops up a large forkful and moans in delight when she bites into the pasta.
“This is so freaking good. You’re a talented chef as well as a talented soccer player. Any other talents I should know about?”
“I’m good with my hands.”
I catch the unintentional hidden meaning just as she does, and we both start laughing. Just like old times.
Taking a large swallow of tea, she replies, “Good to know.”
“I promise that I’m not this inept in social situations.”
I tuck into my food. It is really good. Best I’ve made yet.
“I think you’re funny. There haven’t been a lot of things to smile about since I woke up in the hospital.”
That sobers me up better than a bucket of ice being dumped over my head. I reach across the counter island and cup her hand. She flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
She flips her hand, palm up, and squeezes mine. “Me, too.”
After we consume the entire pot of pasta, I suggest we take dessert out to the balcony. The day is too pretty to stay stuck indoors the entire time.
Turning on the overhead fan to provide some breeze, I wait for her to choose an Adirondack chair before I sit down in the other one.
“What’d you bring?”
She pulls open the top flap and inside is a small Bundt cake with white icing dribbled down the sides. Using one of the forks I grabbed from the kitchen, I dig in.
“Here,” I offer, holding a piece out for her to taste.
“Where’s my fork?”
“Just eat it.”
