Page 32 of Promise Me

Normally, as a kid, I would fill this time with something snarky, but it’s been three years. Is that still us?

“Do we still bicker?” I turn to the front of the bakery. I made it this far; I may as well rip the Band-Aid on this entire place.

“Yes,” he answers, following behind me.

“Do people still avoid us for it?”

“Yes.” He chuckles.

“What would I say to you right now about following me?”

“You’d tell me fuck off.”

I grin, even though he can’t see it.

“Good. Would you listen?”

“Yeah, but I’d probably have some rude comment in reply, though.”

I stop suddenly in the middle of the room and take it in.

Nothing is the same as what my mother had, except for the table in the corner.

I’ve painted the walls and bought new shelves, tables, counters, and more.

A lump forms in my throat, and I swear it moves to my heart, stopping everything.

I gasp, my hand lifting to cover my mouth.

I erased her.

The tears hit me instantly, and just as my knees give out,Hudson’s arms wrap around me, catching my fall. He holds me to him as we settle on the floor.

His hand cups the back of my head as each breath rakes through me.

“Shhh,” he says. “Deep breaths, remember.”

“She’s gone,” I say, my hand now clutching his shirt. “And I didn't leave anything in here to remember her.”

“Yes, you did,” he says quickly. “Look at the wallpaper behind the new shelves.”

I’m still crying, but I look where he tells me.

“I was pissed at Linc for asking. Naturally, you were more than I was, but I helped put it in there anyway. It’s on the bottom of the checkout counter, too, see.”

He’s telling the truth. Mom’s wallpaper is there.

My tears slow down.

“And the front doorframe.” I follow where he points. “You left that in that dark oak trim she loved so much.”

“She would hate that I did that,” I say with a laugh.

“Yeah, you said that when you did it, too.”

Our eyes connect then, and something unfamiliar passes through us.

Peace, maybe?

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