“Those promises kept us bonded. Remember when you promised me you’d learn how to bake cookies? I think you were ten or eleven.”
“And I did, for that one year but then I forgot everything I learned. I had more fun eating them than baking them. I remember making you promise to watch all the Star Wars movies.”
“Yes, and now I’m a fan. I’ve seen them all a bunch of times. Do you remember when you promised me you’d hit ten home runs during your baseball season?”
“I didn’t hit ten.” He grinned and his face lit up. “I hit twelve.”
“Overachiever.”
“I remember you promising to build me a snowman.”
“I named it Coop.”
“I still have that picture. You were standing right next to it wearing a bulky red sweater with a big smile on your face.”
“You still have it? That’s sweet.”
“What wasn’t sweet was you making me promise to wear my dad’s boots to school for a whole week. I nearly broke my neck falling out of them, but I did it. Sent you the pictures and Dad confirmed it that next summer.”
“I only did that to get back at you for making me promise to dye my hair purple and keep it that way for a whole week. My mom wasn’t too keen on that and I caught a lot of grief at school from my friends. And teachers.”
“That was when you were fifteen, right?”
“Yeah, but it was kinda fun being the girl everyone noticed in school.”
Coop lifted a strand of her long dark hair and eyed it with appreciation. “You were noticed, Taye. Even without purple hair, I noticed you.”
“I, uh, noticed you too. Especially that last year. My mom always believed it was young love, more infatuation than anything else…but it was real for me.”
“For me too. You were my first girl.”
“You were my first guy.”
“A lot of time has passed.”
“Yeah.”
“Coop, if I asked you a question, will you give me an honest answer?”
He inhaled and stared into her eyes. “Yeah, I will.”
“Have you opened the promise box? Have you seen our last promise to each other?”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t open the box.”
“Why?”
“Because we always did it together.”
“Well, we’re here now.”
“Yeah, we are and it’s time,” he said on a deep sigh. “You can go first.”
Coop unlatched the box and opened the lid. He reached inside and lifted out the rolled-up paper marked with her handwriting and handed it to her.
She read the words silently first, her nerves strung tight. This was a baring of her soul and she needed a moment to herself. Tears stung her eyes. She remembered the emotion behind the words of her first andonlydeclaration to any guy. “It’s says, ‘I promise to never stop loving you.’” She looked into his eyes and found softness there and affection. It helped her go on. “And I haven’t, Coop. I’ve never really stopped loving you.”
It explained the lousy dates she’d gone on, the way no guy had ever measured up. Thinking back on it now, she couldn’t picture herself with any other man.