Page 31 of Promise Me

He hasn’t moved.

I reach in and grab a bottle of water, slowly closing the door. Then I grab a protein bar from the snack drawer I found last night and continue to sneak to the door. I click the lock, look over my shoulder again, and when it’s clear that he still hasn’t stirred, I exit his apartment and retreat down the stairs.

I step out into the early morning, the air already warm as I move to the bakery’s back door. I take my chances on the code for the digital pad.

2019

The pad light turns green, and the door unlocks.

So, I never changed the passcode after my mom died. Got it.

I step into the back and instantly feel a rush of emotions.

It’s her bakery, but it’s different. There are different pictures and signs. The shelf where she kept her ingredients is on the opposite side. The swinging door is white versus her dark oak one, and it has a diamond window to look into the front of the bakery. I slowly make my way to it but stop to look at the counters. It’s so clean in here. Mom would have had flour and who knows what else strung all over the place by this time of the morning.

I’m still staring at the empty counters when someone clears their throat behind me.

My arms flail as I spin around.

“Jesus, Hudson. What are you doing?”

“What areyoudoing?” he repeats.

“I’m …” Whatever I was going to say just disappears. I toss my hands up and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

He nods a slow nod and then leans his hip onto the desk by the back door.

I assume he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.

“I can be down here alone,” I snap.

Another nod. “True, but that doesn’t mean you should have to be.”

I narrow my gaze at him.

“I might cry again,” I say to scare him away.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

“Isn’t that your cue to leave?”

“Not today. I had an entire night to think it over.”

“Think what over?”

“You.”

I cross my arms. “You spent the night thinking of me.” My hand hits my heart. “You shouldn’t have.”

Suddenly, my hand placement reminds me of how he helped me in the hospital.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I say in an attempt to tone down my sarcasm.

“Oddly enough, I didn’t sleep much. It turns out that couch isn’t good for anything except watching TV.”

“Sorry about that, too.”

His gaze connects with mine, and silence falls over us. His eyes darken to a deep blue as they study me, but it’s his bedhead that makes me smile. I sort of like this sleepy Hudson look.

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