Page 51 of A World Without You
I blanch against his words. “I don’t know. I just used the flour we had.”
He smiles against my lips and kisses me long and hard, while his right hand finds a warm cookie off the counter. He plops the whole thing in his mouth. “Then they are, and these are delectable.”
I smile at him, knowing he must have come for me five years ago.He must have.
And if he did, why wasn’t it enough for him to marry me? Why did we call off the wedding? I know I would have said yes. I knew it was coming. I saw his grandmother’s ring. I heard the plans. Why did we cancel them?
I curl my hands around his shoulders and run them down his chest.
My left ring finger is still bare.
Marriage isn’t everything. But it meant something to us. Once upon a time it was a dream upon dream.Me and you till the death, we said.
I pull back from his lips and stare at him, wondering when the last time we must have said that to each other was—and wondering, despite all my optimism, if Bennett is right about Colin.
ELEVEN
Thursday, December 14th
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“WHATCHA GOT THERE?”Bennett asks, stepping right next to me just before we reach the office building.
I glance down at the red plastic container in my arms. The heat from the still-warm cookies is warming my forearms. “Just my own personal space heater,” I joke.
“Chocolate chip or chocolate crinkle?” he asks.
“How do you know those are the only cookies I make?” I peer up at him, as if he must have dreamt the same dream. I like his hair better in this life though, I’ll admit. I also prefer him not hating me.
“Those are the only ones you don’t burn,” he remarks and blows out his breath instead of letting himself laugh. The heat from his breath pillows out of his mouth like a cloud in the frosty air. It is cuttingly cold and dry today, making me wonder for a moment if it might snow again, or simply blanket the city in ice.
I twist my lips and adjust the container in my arms, not confirming or denying that I am a terrible baker.
“Anyway,” I begin with a breath as he holds open the glass doors to our building for me. “I’m just bringing in some holiday cheer to such a sad and gray office. I haven’t even been there a full two weeks, and I’m already depressed.”
He narrows his eyes on me and I don’t miss his gaze switch to the forty-foot Christmas tree draped in red and green with golden lights sending streams of light all over the lobby.
