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It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. “You’d do that?”
“I’d do anything you ask me, Emilia. I want you to be happy.”
My shoulders feel suddenly lighter, as if a weight was lifted off them, but I’m not sure I can say thank you without tearing up. This conversation went too serious just a few minutes into our breakfast. Time to lighten it up.
“Anything is a big word, Bennett. You sure you can make good on that?”
“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep. Especially big ones.”
Heat spears me at his last two words. My mind has two directions today. Sad or smutty.
“Let me know what you decide,” he says, pulling back as the waiter arrives with our pancakes.
“Thank you.”
“Oh my God, this is pancake heaven,” I say through my full mouth about one hour later, while finishing my third pancake. “You’ve spoiled me for other pancakes. None will measure up to this.”
“We can come back here anytime you want.”
He smiles at me, and I swear the sight sends me into a tailspin; then he glances at my empty plate. “Another pancake?”
“Nah, I’m full,” I declare, but then I eye the half pancake lying abandoned on his plate.
He chuckles. “Take it, I know you want it. Just so you know, this is very special treatment. I usually give shit to anyone who tries to steal my food.”
“Why, thank you. And it’s not called stealing if you’re giving it to me.” I take it without hesitation and dig in to it right away.
“If you’re done, we can take off to the beach.”
I nearly squeal. Through a mouthful, I try to explain that it’s a great idea, but Max holds up a hand, stopping me.
“No words needed. I got the idea.”
No words needed. That could sum up our friendship. He could anticipate what I wanted even before I said it, that much was tr
ue in the past, and it hasn’t changed. When the waiter brings us the bill, I nearly choke. I noticed the high prices on the menu, but somehow I wasn’t adding numbers up while I stuffed my face.
“How can they charge so much for pancakes?” I ask, already hyperventilating.
“I’ve got it covered,” Max says, “don’t worry.”
“No. I don’t want you to pay for me.”
He clenches his jaw. “I asked you to come here.”
“It’s not a date.”
Silence stretches for a few seconds. “No, it’s two friends going out and catching up. And since I was the friend who suggested coming to an expensive restaurant, it’s only fair I cover the bill. Anything against that?”
“No,” I mumble.
“When did you get so stubborn?” he asks, but now his voice is gentle again.
“Grams says I always had the gene, but I was a late bloomer.”
Max laughs, and I love the sound.
The beach is a few minutes away on foot, and it’s swarming with people walking up and down its length when we descend on it. Max and I both take off our shoes, holding them in our hands as we walk on the sand.
