Page 116 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“And you’re sure you want this?” I asked. “Dallas.”

“I am. We had a good night together.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I replied, lifting her hand to my lips for a gentle kiss.

“Me too. Honestly, I’m not that sad. Miami was like a placeholder. It wasn’t where I was supposed to spend the rest of my life. I’m supposed to be here. This is what I want.”

“I’m glad you said that. I wanted this night, our first Valentine’s Day together, to be special. It feels a bit like the first day of the rest of our lives.”

“And it is special, with you,” she said.

Dinner arrived, and we ate slowly, talking about everything and nothing. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like we could breathe. Just the two of us. I didn’t feel that nagging in the back of my mind demanding I hop on my bike and ride like hell. I didn’t need the adrenaline rush. Being here with her was all I needed.

As dessert was served—a ridiculously fancy chocolate mousse—I pulled the small box from my jacket pocket and slid it across the table.

“What’s this?” she asked with surprise.

“It’s Valentine’s. Remember? You said you didn’t want all that traditional stuff? The chocolate and flowers and whatever?”

She nodded. “And jewelry.”

“Well, I want you to have it all,” I said. “Including the jewelry.”

“Kannon, you didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

“What is it?”

I laughed. “Open it. That’s usually how this works.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings, sparkling in the candlelight. She gasped, her eyes widening as she looked at me.

“Kannon, these are the earrings we saw in Miami. At the airport. How did you even⁠—”

“I remembered how you looked at them,” I said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “And I figured you should have them.”

Her eyes glistened as she stared at me, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable. Thank you.” She reached for her purse, pulling something out. “I have something for you too. It’s not nearly as beautiful or nice as the earrings, but I hope it means something to you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I said.

“Trust me, it’s not much.”

I frowned, watching as she unfolded a small, creased piece of paper. “What’s that?” I asked.

She slid it across the table. The second I saw the familiar chicken scratch handwriting, I froze. “Wait, is that what I think it is?”

She giggled. “If you think it’s a note you gave me a long time ago, you would be right.”

I picked it up and read my middle-school handwriting. “Do you like me? Circle yes or no.”

She laughed again.

A laugh bubbled out of me. I shook my head. “You kept this?”

“All this time,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s the first note you ever gave me.”

I couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re something else, Buttercup.”