Page 40 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

“Come here.” Stopping at the first step, he grabs my waist with both hands. He doesn’t try to kiss me. He barely moves a muscle while he takes his time looking at me. The tiniest flicker at his temple is the only indication of how deep in thought he is while we stare at each other.

“What is it?”

“You,” he says. “Being here with me. Not looking like you’re trying to find the exit. I didn’t expect…I tried to move on. Almost fooled myself into believing that I did the right thing when I told you not to stay. I was so damned aware of my own mortality after dad’s heart attacks. But now I know I was wrong.” His fingers drift up and down my hip in little movements. “You take my breath away, Ash.”

Throwing myself at him, I crush my mouth to his. Large hands press at my back, along my spine, at the curve of my neck as he holds me closer, so he can deepen our kiss. There’s so much tenderness in the way he lingers over my lips and slides his tongue against mine. It rocks me to the balls of my feet. Inside, I’m like an avalanche. All the parts of me that I called on when it got too hard to stay tumble and fall away. There’s nothing for it now but to let these emotions overwhelm me.

He picks me up and carries me upstairs, through the storage area. Depositing me on my feet the moment we enter his room, he shuts the door behind him. I turn for the bed, stripping out of my top before I’ve taken more than a couple of steps.

“What is that?” I stop dead in my tracks and stare at the three white boxes piled on the neatly made bed in order of size. My heart lurches. I’d already given up on celebrating this day by the time Sam and I got together. The closest we ever came is that Funfetti fuck on his kitchen floor when I was eighteen. And that’s something no birthday present can touch. I glance over my shoulder as he comes up behind me. “We don’t do this. I told you and you agreed.”

“That was before.” He rubs his palms up and down my biceps. “But we also agreed things were going to be different now.”

“Not this, though.” I waive my hand at the offending boxes. “This is too much.”

“After what you just told me, I’m not sure it’s enough,” he says. “Today should be happy. A celebration of the fact that you’re alive.”

“I’m just not sure I can change the way I feel about it.”

“You’re here, Ash, and that means something to the people who care about you. Maybe that isn’t your dad. Maybe that’s me. And Summer. And a handful of other people that you might not think matter as much.”

“You matter,” I say. “Summer does. So much.”

“Then let us remind you how much we care about you.” He threads his fingers through mine and squeezes. “I know we can’t change the fact that this day will always hold painful memories for you, but let me try to bring a little joy into it too.”

Maybe he’s right. I’ve dwelled on the negative for so long. Let it rule my emotions and my behavior. Let it keep me away from him. And my curiosity is piqued. Those boxes have secrets that might take my mind off my mother and the fact my dad still isn’t answering my calls. And Luca. At least for a little while. “Okay.”

“Smallest box first,” he orders as he draws me to the bed.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and pick up the one he indicated. It’s too big to be jewelry and it rattles when I shake it. I carefully lift the lid and set it aside as I snicker at the contents. Rolls and rolls of miniature Mentos mints. “I haven’t had these in forever.”

He shrugs. “It’s an important memory. I wanted to celebrate that. You should always remember that you’re not alone.”

I’m choking up, my eyes watering. “I have no idea what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Just open the next box.”

I put down the Mentos to pick up the next box. It’s about the size of a cupcake carton and when I lift the lid I find that’s exactly what it holds. “Funfetti?”

“There are a lot of sprinkles.” He grins as he sits on the other side of the boxes.

“Dylan made it, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“Is it because you wanted me to remember the first time we had sex? Because I will never forget.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I want you to remember how important you are to me.”

I press my lips together as he takes it out of my hands and places it on the bedside table before handing me the largest box.

“Last one.”

There’s a thick red ribbon around it, and I carefully undo the bow that holds it in place, letting it fall so I can take off the lid. After the last two gifts this one makes me frown as I lift the material free. “What is it?”

“It’s a dress,” he says.

“I know that.” I hold up the long-sleeved cocktail dress. “But what does it mean?”

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