Page 126 of Breakout
I lean in and kiss the side of her head. “They are beautiful.”
“They weren’t big and flashy, but they loved them,” she says wistfully.
Carefully she sets them to the side and removes the other jewelry from the box, studying each piece before setting it down. At the bottom of the security box is a photo album. When she pulls it out, I push the box out of the way.
“Thank you,” she says as she rests the album against the table.
She opens it, and right there on the first page is a young couple with their faces smashed up against each other.
“You look like her.”
Peyton looks like a spitting image of her mother but with her father’s eyes and hair color. There’s no denying who her parents are.
“You think so?”
“Definitely.”
“You know what’s kind of funny?”
“What?”
“We have a picture just like this.”
I tilt my head and study the photo. “Do we?”
She nods. “We took it last year. Back when Clay and Grace were still pretending to be just friends.”
“You’ll have to show me,” I tell her as I squeeze her arm.
Page after page, her parents’ life story plays out before our eyes, the love between the two becoming more evident the deeper into the book we go. Only when we reach the photos from her birth does she cover her mouth and cry.
In the photo, her mom looks exhausted, but happy as she holds a newborn Peyton. Her dad crawled up onto the hospital bed and is smiling brightly as he holds his wife’s and his baby girl’s hands.
“God, they look so young,” she sobs.
“It says right here that they were just a year older than I am,” I say as I tap the ages at the bottom of the photo.
“God, I couldn’t imagine,” she says, shaking her head.
I hum but don’t agree because I can see it clearly. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think either of us are ready for a kid, but if we had one, I wouldn’t be mad. I fucking love the idea of Peyton being the mother of my kids.
When the last photo comes into view, she sighs and leans her head onto my shoulder.
“I thought I would never see these again.”
“I’m glad he saved them for you.”
“Me too.”
We fall silent as I hold her, offering her as much comfort as I can.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“For what?”
“For always dropping whatever you have going on and coming to save me.”
“Always, Pey. If you need me, I’ll be there. Always. No matter what. No matter when. Just say the word.”
