Page 74 of For Emery

I pulled in a much-needed deep breath. He. Was. Good. I reached up and cupped his cheeks, the same way he had held mine earlier. “The only thing I deserve…the only thing I want…is you.”

“You are making this very hard,” he said.

“What?”

“Being here and controlling myself.”

I laughed.

“Because all I really want to do is get you alone and have you all to myself.”

“We’re alone,” I said.

“We’re in the middle of a damn lake with an audience.”

Our eyes shifted to our captain, watching us in the mirror above the wheel.

“Why don’t we eat,” Jordan suggested, standing and pulling me to my feet.

We walked the two steps to the table and he pulled out my chair before sitting down in his. He reached under the table and removed a bag, pulling out two take-out boxes.

I laughed.

“What’d you expect?” he grinned. “Filet mignon?”

“I think it’s awesome,” I assured him, because I did think it was awesome. I didn’t need to be wined and dined. I just wanted to be with him.

He placed one container in front of me and the other in front of him. “Go ahead,” he said, nodding to my box.

I opened it and laughter burst out of me. It was a three-decker peanut butter, jelly, and fried banana sandwich. “Where did you find this?”

“It wasn’t easy. I almost had to make it myself.”

“I love these.”

“I know. I remember.”

My eyes lifted to his. There weren’t enough words to convey how much it meant to me that he remembered something like that. I’d spent years thinking he’d forgotten me. Forgotten our friendship. Forgotten our kiss. Those thoughts had tortured me in more ways than one. So, to now have him remember so may small things and surprise me with them, it meant more than anything.

He smiled, as if he’d heard everything I’d been thinking.

“What do you have?” I asked, looking to his closed box.

“The same.”

“You hate them.”

He opened the box and picked up his sandwich. “These days I’m trying new things.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

“I’d say I’m doin’ all right,” he said, before biting into his sandwich and trying not to cringe.

I giggled as I picked up my sandwich. I could barely get my fingers around it. But that wouldn’t stop me. I bit into it, groaning in pleasure. “So, good,” I said with a mouthful.

He smiled, and even though I knew he hated the sandwich, he took another bite of his own. “My parents love having your mom with them,” he said with a mouthful.

“Do they really or are you just being nice?”

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