“Don’t you dare push me away like that again,” she scolds, her voice just steady enough not to crack.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I pull her against me for a hug, and for the first time in over a week, I feel like I can breathe. I really need to remember this moment, that this is exactly why I love her. Because even after everything I’ve put her through these last couple of days, she’s right here, still loving me.
“I love you.” I kiss her head.
“I love you,” she replies.
We exchange a soft kiss. It feels more meaningful than any that came before. We stop and rest our foreheads together and we just breathe—quiet and close, like the whole world has gone still around us.
* * *
Today is Valentine’s Day. I feel a lot of pressure for some reason. I don’t know what Addison’s expecting and I don’t want to disappoint her. I got her a necklace, a card, and flowers. Butthat’s pretty much all I could think of. I’d take her to dinner, but I know that’s triggering for her anxiety and I don’t want that.
When I get to her house, she’s out the front door before I can even step out of my truck. I have to hurry up if I’m gonna get her door for her.
“What’s the rush?” I wonder.
“It’s cold,” she says.
“Well, I had a whole thing planned out,” I tell her, and she scrunches her eyebrows, reaching for my truck door. I beat her to it. “Uh-uh.”
“Look at you.” She smiles and gets in. I stand in the opening and point to the gift and flowers sitting in the middle seat.
“Those are obviously for you. I was going to come to the door with the flowers, but you didn’t give me much chance.”
“I’m sorry.” She rubs my shoulder and smiles.
I eye her up a beat before shutting the door. She’s wearing a long skirt and a chunky red sweater over top. Some of her hair is tied back while the rest is curled and draped over her shoulders.
“You look beautiful, by the way.” I lean in and kiss her smiling lips from the driver’s seat.
Once we get down the lane and onto the road, I can’t help but look her over once more.
“You’re dressed up more than usual?” I say. She’s dressed like she would for church. I’m not complaining, obviously, but it raises questions.
She looks down at herself. “I am?”
“For a truck date? Yeah.”
“Well, I didn’t know about grabbing dinner,” she mutters and looks down at her hands in her lap.
“Oh.” My demeanor perks up. “Really? You wanna?”
“I just wanna try.”
“Where you wanna go?”
“I was just thinking Emilio’s, but if you wanna go to Longhorn or something nicer we can.”
“You pick, baby. I want you to be comfortable.” I rest my hand on her thigh and wait for her decision.
“Then let’s just do Emilio’s. It’s low-key and if I can’t do it—”
“Then we’ll leave,” I finish.
“Okay. I am sorta hungry for their bottomless fries.”
“Yeah, me too. And a burger.”
