Promise Me

“I should have checked with you first.” He takes a backward step, adjusting the duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

“What? No.” Now that he’s here, a greedy part of me insists on clinging. I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face to the crook of his neck. His scent is familiar. Soothing. I breathe it in like I’m oxygen starved. “Thank you. Thank you for coming a

ll this way.” This will probably make a final good-bye even more painful, but I’ll deal with the fallout later. The fact that he’s made a gesture like this overwhelms me to the point that I’m incapable of gathering a single defense.

He tucks a finger under my chin to lift my face to his. The soft kiss he presses to my lips makes my legs weak. “I had to come. I couldn’t stand not being here for you.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“Dixie hooked me up with your address. Then she told me she’d have my balls if I so much as blinked at you the wrong way while you were dealing with Mason’s death. I think she’s starting to take her sister status a little more seriously.”

“Maybe so.” I take his hand. “Come inside. My mom and I are cooking. I’ll introduce you.”

“I should warn you right now, moms love me.”

I roll my eyes but inwardly smile. I close the door behind him, put his bag on the hardwood floor next to the entry table, and note he’s dressed a little less casual than usual with a light green collared button-down that turns his eyes emerald. “I’m pretty sure everyone loves you,” I say over my shoulder.

Something flashes across his face, but as soon as it’s there it’s gone. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, thinking better of it, I guess. And proving that while we can tease each other, our situation is also fraught. Right now it’s too easy to say the wrong thing. We arrive at the kitchen just as Mom calls out, “Who was at the door?”

“Mom, this is Vaughn. Vaughn, my mom, Sherry.”

Her eyes bug out of her head when she looks at him. I’m not sure if it’s because of the things I’ve told her about him or because she’s surprised. Probably a combination of both.

“Hello,” he says. He starts to extend his hand then notes her hands are full of flour as she rolls out the pizza dough and drops his arm. “It’s a pleasure to meet the mom of one of my favorite people.”

“The pleasure’s mine.” Mom takes the two of us in before settling a questioning gaze on me.

“Vaughn came for Mason’s funeral.”

“For Kendall,” he corrects, and sends me a patient look. “I know tomorrow is going to be tough.”

Mom washes her hands at the sink and shoots me a look that says, He’s a keeper.

She misses my, Yeah, but I can’t keep him, look because she wipes her palms down her apron then steps toward Vaughn and hugs him. “Thank you.” She pulls back. “That means a lot. We’re making pizza for dinner. Would you like to stay?”

“I would.”

Jeez. Slow down there, Mom. Dinner with the family puts me in more danger. It means my mom and dad will get to know Vaughn directly. And vice versa. Stories will be swapped. Laughs shared. It’s one thing for my parents to hear about Vaughn from me, where I own the flow of information. Quite another for them to bypass me and form their own bonds. I try to catch my mom’s eye before this spirals further out of my control, but there’s no stopping her when she’s in Mom mode.

“Where are you staying tonight?” she asks, resuming cooking duties while unknowingly sending my pulse into a tailspin.

“I thought I’d grab a room at the nearest hotel.”

“Nonsense. You’ll stay here. I’ll make up the guest room.”

Vaughn laces our fingers together. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

And now things are definitely, irretrievably beyond my control.

The hand holding does not go unnoticed by Mom. “How are you at slicing tomatoes?” she asks the guy currently in possession of more than my hand.

“Umm…”

I glance at him and out of nowhere, I laugh. Only my mom would look at Vaughn Shaughnessy and think, “Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but can he slice tomatoes?”

“Vaughn’s more of a takeout kind of guy.” I release his hand and slip around the counter to get back to grating cheese.

“Today he’s the tomato guy. Come on, I’ll demonstrate.”