Page 93 of Fight Or Flight

So thoughtful.

Perfect.

Eric presses a kiss to the top of my head before clearing his throat.

“I know you said you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday, but…” His voice trails.

Sighing, I peel my eyes away from the flowers and turn to face him. I really don’t want to celebrate my birthday. This, being here, celebrating my mom, is all I want.

All I need.

Eric reaches into the back pocket of his cargo shorts and pulls out a small white envelope. Handing it to me, he swipes a hand over his face. It’s what he does when he’s nervous. I curiously glance at the envelope and back to his face just as he drops his hand.

“What’s this?” I ask softly.

Hesitating, he bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes moving to the envelope I still haven’t taken from his hand.

“One night you were in the shower and I went to check on your mom,” he starts to reveal, lifting his gaze.

My face softens at his confession.

I think that says a lot about Eric, it proves how pure his heart is. Most nights he visited her to keep me company and spend time with me, but there were so many little moments where he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Times when I wasn’t around.

“I found her crying, and I almost turned around before she could see me, but something kept me from running. For a guy who feels helpless whenever he sees a woman cry, I forced myself to ask why she was so upset. She told me a commercial had just come across the television for the Broadway show Wicked. My mom cries over the Superbowl commercials so I didn’t think anything of it. But Joss explained how before she got sick the two of you had plans to come to New York City to celebrate your eighteenth birthday, that she was going to take you to see a Broadway show.”

My throat tightens as I recall the silly plan. We were supposed to go shopping on Fifth Avenue and to Little Italy for dinner too. It was going to be the best day.

Eric reaches behind him and cups the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what show the two of you planned to see and to be honest, I’m a little pissed at myself for not thinking to ask, but I got us tickets to see Wicked.”

Sure I heard him wrong, I stare at him and wait for him to say something else. Instead, he brings his hand away from his neck and takes my hand, flipping it over so he can place the envelope in my palm. Bending his knees, he brings us eye level.

“I’m not your mom, but she loved you with everything she was and I…well…” He pauses, dragging out a ragged breath. “I love you with everything I am, so if you’re up for it, I’d really like to take you to a Broadway show on your eighteenth birthday.” He swallows before a sheepish grin fills his face. “I promise to keep my hands to myself and let you enjoy the show too.”

This time there is no question of what he’s saying and yet, I still ask him to repeat himself. Some things in life are worth hearing over and over.

“Can you say that again?”

“I promise to keep my hands—”

“Not that part.”

He scratches his head.

“I said a lot, I even got winded.” He frowns. “That probably isn’t a good sign, but anyway you’re going to need to be more specific.”

Honoring my mom’s plans is beautiful, and I will never ever forget it, but there’s only one thing I want to hear again. One sentence I want to hear every day for the rest of my life.

“The part about you loving me.”

He grins.

“Oh, yeah, I slipped that in there too, didn’t I?”

A million emotions are running through me and tears are brimming in my eyes, but when he looks at me like he is right now, with that crooked smile and those warm blue eyes, I just want to smile. Isn’t that amazing?

“Mm hmm.”

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