The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (37 page)

A small smile graces my lips as I give him a nod.
“
Fair.
”
I murmur.

Throughout the course of the night, I learn quite a bit about my new friend. Like how he used to run track until he injured his foot; his injury was what made him start doing yoga. Now, obviously, he loves it. I also found out that he studied engineering at CU Boulder and graduated three years ago. I don
’
t ask him why he isn
’
t using his degree, sensing that might also be a topic best
broached
over breakfast, but it clued me in on his age
—
twenty-five. I was surprised to learn that he
’
s not much of a book reader, but he loves poetry. He also prefers hockey over football. I told him I
’
m not sure if we can be friends now that I know that. Football is pretty much the only sport that interests me
—“
And you don
’
t like coffee?
”

He laughs as he fills two glasses from the tap.
“
You
’
re going to have to let that go. Come on, ask me something else.
”

I pause and think for a minute. For most of the night, I
’
ve kept the questions light, knowing that if I asked something too personal he might not feel comfortable answering it while we are working. Nevertheless, there is one thing that I
’
ve been itching to know.
“
You listen better than most of the guys I know. Actually, you
’
re pretty insistent about it. Especially considering you hardly know me.
”

He smirks at me as he sets my order on the bar.
“
That
’
s not a question.
”

“
How
’
d you get to be that way?
”
It
’
s an odd question, I know, but I sense there
’
s a story behind his
I
’
m a good listener
line. Especially considering it ended up not being a
line
at all, but the truth.

He rests his elbows on top of the bar and leans toward me before answering.
“
I have a younger sister. Her name is Daphne,
”
he says her name with a grin, addressing the question on my lips before I can ask it.
“
We
’
re very, very close. She likes to talk
—
a lot
. When we were younger
—
sometimes even now
—
she
’
d pinch me every time she thought I wasn
’
t listening. I got sick of getting pinched.
”

“
Hmm,
”
I hum, grabbing the beers as a smirk pulls at my lips.
“
I think I like her.
”

My shift flies by and before I know it I
’
ve only got fifteen minutes before I get to go home. The Friday night crowd kept me busy and my frequent run-ins with Roman helped calm the anxiety I arrived with and put me in a really good mood. He ended up asking me a few questions throughout the night, as well. We talked about Avery, which reminded me about her and Grayson, lifting my spirits even more; and I told him about my plans to become a first grade teacher. Thoughts of Beckham are always present, but I tried to keep them at bay so as not to rouse the ache that had lessened with the distractions of the evening.

“
Okay
—
last question,
”
I say as I hop up and occupy an empty barstool. He turns from where he stands, wiping down a surface behind the bar, and indicates with a tilt of his head to proceed.
“
Earlier, you said praying was your thing. That could mean a lot of different things depending on what you believe. So, what do you believe? Or maybe
who
do you believe
in
is a better question.
”

“
I believe in Christ,
”
he says matter-of-factly, studying me as I absorb his answer.

I nod solemnly in an attempt to bait him before my smile breaks through.
“
Me, too,
”
I admit, too impatient to leave him hanging.
“
I guess that trumps your distaste for coffee and football. We can still be friends.
”

“
Oh, thank God,
”
he jibes.
“
I was so worried.
”

“
Well
—
I
’
m out of here for the night. Do you work tomorrow?
”

“
Nope. You?
”

“
Yes. I
’
ve got an early shift.
”

“
Will you be able to make it to yoga?
”

“
I wouldn
’
t miss it,
”
I assure him as my feet find the floor and I push in my vacated seat.
“
I have to see if I can make it through one of your classes without crying.
”
I say it with a forced smile because my tone might hint that I
’
m joking, but I
’
m not amused. By the sympathetic expression in Roman
’
s eyes, I can tell that he
’
s not either. I assume we
’
re both thinking the same thing
—
I
’
m completely serious.

It
’
s still pretty early when I get home from the hospital and I find myself hoping that Jack has nothing going on tonight. I could use a bit of mind numbing video game hang time. I know it
’
s Friday night and that
’
s all the excuse Jack needs to head out for some fun, but he never extended an invite, which he usually does, so my hopes are high that his plans are to stay in. When I open the door, I immediately become aware of two things: Jack has no plans of going out, and we won
’
t be playing video games, either.

He
’
s in the kitchen making himself a sandwich as he talks on his phone. Jack only talks on the phone with three people
—
his mom, his grandma, or Claire. I
’
m not sure who he
’
s talking to now, but I know if he
’
s grabbing a bite to eat, that
’
s a sign that he's planning to be occupied for a while.
My money is on Claire. Or maybe his grandma, if he hasn
’
t gotten a chance to tell her about the engagement yet. Although, he seems to be playing listener just now.
He spots me and jerks his chin up to signal his hello. I return the gesture and then shift my focus.

Gray and Avery are on the couch watching TV. Well, Gray is watching TV
—
Avery is out like a light. She
’
s curled up underneath his arm, her head resting against his chest and her legs bent so that her feet are between his legs and her toes are hidden beneath his thigh. Seeing them like that ignites a pang of loss that reverberates all the way through to the center of my core.

Addie snuggles with me like that.

The twins get cold toes. I can
’
t even count how many times I have sat around with Addie in my arms and her toes under one side of my thigh and Avery stretched out beside us, her toes tucked under me from the opposite direction. I used to think it was weird, but that was a long time ago. Now it
’
s a familiar act that I somehow feel
belongs to me
. Suddenly, I miss it.

I push all thoughts of Addie and her toes to the back of my mind, wanting to adopt the attitude I held before I walked into the apartment. I
’
m too mentally exhausted to manage memories like that. Instead, I look at my best friend and see beyond the smoke screen that is my heartache. He looks content
—
happy in a way that I
’
ve never seen before. It
’
s not something that is expressed in a cheesy smile, or anything like that, it
’
s just in the way he holds her. Like it
’
s his job
—
not his job. His privilege.

“
Hey, man
—
are you coming in or what?
”

It isn
’
t until he speaks that I remember I
’
m still standing in the doorway.
“
Sorry.
”

“
No big. What
’
s up?
”

“
Nothing,
”
I answer, discarding my keys and wallet on the coffee table.
“
What are you watching?
”

“
Sports Center. You in?
”

I gawk at him for a minute as I allow the reality of his current situation to really sink in.
“
It
’
s Friday night, you
’
ve got your girlfriend wrapped around you, and you
’
re watching ESPN? Do you have
any idea
how lucky you are?
”

He smirks at me before looking down at Avery. He kisses the top of her head and then glances back up at me.
“
Yeah. I think I have a pretty good idea.
”

“
You
’
re disgusting,
”
I chuckle as I throw myself into the big chair beside the couch.
“
I would sort of hate you if I wasn
’
t too busy laughing at the fact that you let her fall asleep.
”

“
She
’
s not that bad,
”
he says with an eye roll.
“
Besides, she got three hours of sleep last night, there was no stopping this.
”

“
Three hours? Yeah
—
I
’
d say you
’
ve got two options, O
’
Conner. Either you
’
re sleeping on the couch just like that or you
’
re going to have to pick her up and take her home at the end of the night. I
guarantee you
she is not waking up.
”

“
You
’
re probably right,
”
he says with a grin.
“
That just means we can talk about birthday plans while she
’
s sleeping. It
’
s next week, remember?
”
I lift my eyebrows at him, showcasing how ridiculous his question is.
“
Of course you remember. How silly of me. Why else would a gigantic box be delivered to our apartment today?
”
he says sarcastically, nodding toward the box that sits beside the front door.