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His eyes narrow, watching me fidget for a moment before he replies, “Do what?”
“Make promises.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, hating the shrillness in my tone.
“What are you talking about, Lizzy?” The microwave beeps again, reminding us the popcorn is ready as he shakes his head. “I didn’t make any promises,” he huffs, opening the microwave to pull the bag out.
“Yes, you did.” I nod as his gaze focuses on me again. “You told Maddie you’d come with us on our vacation. When you tell a child something like that, it may as well be a promise. Especially with her.”
“Okay, but I am going with you,” he replies, his shoulders lifting as he tilts his head. “Unless…do you not want me to come with you? Is that why you didn’t tell me about your plans?”
The hurt in his voice causes my chest to tighten with guilt. This isn’t about not wanting him there; it’s about what it would mean by making him part of it.
“It’s not like that,” I start. “It’s just—”
“Baby, your freakout is starting to freak me out,” he says, walking toward me. “I mean, you love me, right? You’re in this with me for real? You still want to be with me, right?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
His harsh exhale cuts me off again as he sighs in relief. “But what, beautiful?” He places his hands on my shoulders, searching my eyes. “What are you worried about now?”
“I don’t know.” I wrap my arms around him, burying my head in his chest as emotion overwhelms me.
He kisses the top of my head, and my body relaxes as he strokes my hair. “Is this about Xander?”
Keeping my head pressed to his chest, I shake it in protest.
“No. I mean…are you afraid of losing me too?” he asks.
My heart sinks, my hold on him tightening. Because he’s right. This panic I’m feeling is fear. The last time I made plans for the future, it was all ripped away from me. It’s been three years since I lost Xander, but the pain it caused me is still present in my day-to-day life.
I’ve opened my heart to Brenden—something I thought I’d never be able to do again—but it won’t survive another break. Even considering the possibility causes a painful ache in my chest, tears streaming down my face.
“Hey.” He pulls away and locks his eyes on mine, wiping away my tears. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m here with you right now, and everything is going to be okay. You can’t live your life in fear of what tomorrow will bring. Shit happens in life. You can’t stop the bad things by not living, you’ll only miss out on the good. We’ve got to embrace all that life brings—the good with the bad. It’s all intertwined. Those things weave us through all the twists and turns that come during our journey. In the end, it doesn’t matter what we do. We can’t change our final destination.”
My lips curve up, the heaviness feeling lighter. Brenden’s beautiful outlook on life is one of the many things I love so much about him. It’s refreshing and infectious.
I lean up on the balls of my feet and place a gentle kiss on his lips before resting my forehead against his. “I love you, Brenden.”
“Those are my favorite words in the whole wide world.” A genuine smile lights his face as I lift my head, his arms closing in around me like a boa constrictor. “So…the beach? When are we going? I’ve got to admit, I really like the idea of you wearing very little clothing for an entire vacation.”
Laughing, I playfully smack him on the ass. He makes a valid point, though. The thought of him running around in a pair of swim trunks all wet as his tan skin glistens in the sun makes the beach sound a lot more appealing than it did a moment ago.
“All right, you win. Let’s go to the beach.”
Brenden
“Have a shot with me,” I say, placing a bottle of tequila on the kitchen counter in front of Jon.
We’re barely speaking to each other lately. He’s been cold and distant since I went off on him when he tried to talk to me about Lizzy after his party. I’ve apologized and tried to explain I was just hurting at the time—neither of which were easy for me to do—but it didn’t help.
I haven’t exactly been an exemplary friend over all these years, but he’s never stayed upset with me for this long. It’s been killing me, and I won’t rest until things are right between us.
The plan for tonight is a bottle of tequila and some beer. I’m determined to get him to talk this shit out with me.
Jon looks back and forth between me and the bottle of Patrón before shrugging his shoulders in indifference. “All right.” He sighs, turning to grab some shot glasses.
I flip the caps off two beer bottles and set one in front of him while he pours our shots. Remaining silent, we take our first shot followed by a sip of beer, then repeat the process a second time.
“Are we ever going to talk about this?” I ask, the burning in my chest distracting me from how uncomfortable this feels.
