Turning it over, I studied the box frame. I had a few of them with casts of Shanti’s hands and feet in them from birth to now, but what was inside this one wasn’t what I expected. Ever.
“Is that a Blow Pop?”
“That’s the one you gave me the first day we met.”
My head snapped up to look at him. “No way. It’d be crushed or would have melted if it was that one.”
Lifting a shoulder, he did his best to look nonchalant. The only thing that gave away his nervousness was the muscle ticking in his jaw. “It was in a box with some of my parents’ shit that I’ve kept in my closet. I guess the air conditioning and stuff around it stopped that from happening.”
Words couldn’t describe what this meant to me. In reality, it was a piece of candy, a lollipop you could buy anywhere. Millions were probably sold every year. But this one—the one I’d given the sad boy who’d looked like he wanted to play in the traffic that day—meant everything.
“I-I can’t believe it,” I breathed, unable to take my eyes off it.
“Read the card inside the box.”
Carefully putting the frame on my lap, I pulled out the card and opened the envelope.
Sometimes the people and things that we never think can pull us back from the edge are the ones who do it the best.
“Carter.” I choked on his name, the words on the card going blurry. “Thank you.”
Pulling me into his side, he dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “Callum would be proud of you, Nome. You’ve got to start accepting that and look at the beauty of the life you’re giving Shanti.”
He was right. I did see it but accepting it was the struggle.
“Okay.”
I don’t know how much longer we sat there, but finally, he sighed. “I gotta go. I’m on shift tonight with Alex.” I tipped my head back to say thank you again, but he shook his head.
“Oh, I’m not letting you be alone tonight. Heidi can’t come because she’s got the girls at hers and Bond’s at work, but we’ve arranged for the next best thing to keep you company.”
Before I could ask who, a voice piped up behind us.
“Did somebody say the next best thing? Listen, hot police officer, I’m the best thing.” Jerking my head around at where Jacinda was standing with a cocktail glass in her hand, I couldn’t hold back my grin when I saw her glaring at Carter.
“Now, I hear someone needs a little bit of entertainment tonight, and that’s my thing, so I’m here to make sure it happens. No, we won’t have a pillow fight, not unless you want me to beat the shit out of an intruder with one. We won’t braid each other’s hair, either. Instead, we’re going to enjoy some cocktails and watch one of the sexiest men in the world as he fights crime and takes out the bad guys.”
Her eyes had been on me as she’d said all of this, but she flicked them back to Carter for what she said next. “No offense, man. You’re definitely a sexy hot crime fighter, but you ain’t no James Bond.”
“None taken,” he assured her as he got up off the ground and helped me do the same, with the box and frame tucked under my arm. “Just look after Naomi, and we’ll call it even.”
Grabbing my hand, she dragged me through the kitchen door. “Say goodbye to the hot guy, Naomi. We’ve got shit to do.”
I got as far as lifting a hand before she pulled me through my house to the living room, where my coffee table was covered with bottles, shakers, fruit, and glasses.
“How did you do this?”
“Well, while you guys were outside talking and staring at the stars, I was inside creating magic and giving you both some time. Now, don’t ask for the logistics. Just enjoy the creations.”
And that’s what we did.
“Parkour!”
“Parkour!”
We’d messed up the series. Two movies in, and we’d only just started watching Casino Royale because I hadn’t seen it before. Unfortunately, this also meant we were up to our necks in alcohol consumption, so the beginning of the movie was proving way too entertaining.
The first time we watched it, I’d been on the edge of my seat watching Bond jump from one crane to another. Then we’d put it back to the beginning of the scene and had stood close to the TV, squinting at the face of the guy jumping through the air.
My innocent question had been, “Do you think Daniel Craig did his own stunts?” but we’d missed the answer to it because we were too busy yelling “parkour!”
So, we’d rewound it again…and again.
Now, neither of us could stop the “parkours” from coming out, and I still had no answer to my question. Not that it mattered anymore.