Page 35 of Everlasting Promises

He scoots closer to me. “Do you think my stories are good enough? I mean, Mom says they are, but she’s my mom; she has to say they’re good.”

I shrug. “As I said before, I’m not much of a reader, so I’m not really an expert. But I didn’t want to stop reading and if they can make me”—I jab my chest with my thumb—“keep reading, they must be pretty great. Don’t you think? And I don’t think your mom says stuff she doesn’t mean.”

“Well, yeah, I guess so.” He grins at me. “Thanks for reading my stories and liking them, Ben.” He collects his books and heads inside to put them away.

I guess that means my time is up. My chest pinches at the idea.

Reluctantly, I stand and tap the side of my leg. “C’mon, Rex. Time to go.”

He looks up at me, tilting his head to the side as his ears twitch. Even he can tell I don’t want to leave. I carry the dining chair inside and place it at the table.

Hope’s cutting cabbage at the counter, and whatever she has cooking smells incredible. I watch her slender fingers wrapped around the knife as she slices into the vegetable, noting her wedding rings on her left hand as she listens intently to Evan. “Ben thought my stories were good. He thinks I’m good enough to be a writer!”

She gives him a proud, genuine smile. “I’ve told you that, but you never believed me.”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah. You have to say my stuff is good … you’re my mom.”

Hope drops the knife and jabs her hands into her hips. “Are you calling me a liar?”

It takes a second for Evan to realize what she said. I can tell the moment her words sink in, when his eyebrows shoot high above his wide eyes. “What? No! I never said that.”

Hope giggles. It’s such a beautiful sound. “I was kidding, Ev.”

The relief on his face is instant as his shoulders drop from around his ears. He runs his hand over the top of his head, then pulls it away. “My hair’s super short now.”

Hope bites her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s trying to hold back a laugh. Her eyes sparkle like the sun glinting off the ocean, and in this moment, she looks so damn beautiful my chest aches.

The last thing I want to do is leave, but Hope’s preparing dinner, so I should get out of their hair. Knowing I’m going home to an empty house fills me with a sense of loneliness I’ve pushed aside for too long.

“Uh, thanks for the haircut and for sharing your afternoon with me and Rex. We should get going so you can get on with your evening.”

“No! Stay for dinner,” Evan almost shouts, then looks at his mom. “They can stay for dinner, right, Mom?”

Hope’s eyes snap up to me, and a blush spreads up her neck. “Uh, sure. If he’d like to, but he might have things to do or a date or something, Ev.”

My eyebrows rise and my neck heats.Was she fishing for information?

My chest expands with a relieved breath that I don’t have to leave just yet. “No date tonight or any other night.” Hope’s mouth drops open a little and she lowers her eyes back to the chopping board. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Without looking at me, she says, “Great. Evan, can you please set the table on the back porch for three?”

He does as asked and sets the table for dinner without an argument.

“Can I help?” I move around the counter until I’m standing beside Hope. I can’t stay away from her. It’s as if I’m the ocean and she’s the shore.

She lifts her gaze to me, uncertainty written across her face, so I step back a little to give her some space. I watch her swallow, then lift my eyes to study her. Her features are so fine, like a ballerina’s, with pale skin, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks that remind me of cookie crumbs, and a sun-kissed pink tinge from this afternoon’s walk along the beach across the same area. I pause on her pale pink lips with the perfect bow, wishing I could lean forward and press a kiss tothem. I bet they’re softer than silk. They look even more perfect when she smiles.

She tears her gaze from mine and points toward the sweet potatoes on the counter. “Would you mind peeling those and cutting them into wedges?”

“Sure.” I wash my hands at the sink, noticing the rubber gloves she must use when she washes the dishes. She digs into a drawer, grabbing a peeler, and I get to work. “What smells so good?”

Using her elbow to point to the pressure cooker on the other counter, she says, “I’m cooking pork in barbecue sauce, so we can have pulled pork sliders, coleslaw, and a side of sweet potato wedges.”

My stomach grumbles. “Oh, man. That sounds so good!” I widen my eyes in delight.

“It’s one of my favorite dinners,” Evan adds.

Rex raises his head, tilting it to the side. “Yeah, buddy. You’re gonna miss out, but I’ll give you a treat later.”

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