Page 60 of Infinite as They Come
She laughed softly. “I suppose so. I just don’t want to get in the way of anything.”
“You’re not. I’m glad that you and Sawyer found each other again.”
There was a pause that was more than awkward suddenly, and I distracted myself a little by digging my nails into the lettuce, giving the green leaves a yank.
“Your folks must be so proud of you getting into Columbia, Holly,” Kurt said from the stove. “They’re in Texas too, right? In Dallas? Where abouts?”
“They live in Highland Park.”
Kurt whistled. “Dang. Highland Park? When I was a kid, we used to drive around that neighborhood for fun. It was like going on a vacation to another country. My dad would show me all the houses around there. They’re something else. Did you have a personal chef cooking up your meals?”
“No.” Laughing, I shook my head. “Nothing like that. You sound like Sawyer, by the way.”
Kurt chuckled. “Well, I hope our tacos are up to your standards.”
“Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing, so I’m sure they’ll taste great.”
“I bet your parents are over the moon now that you’re back home,” Linda said. “They must have missed you a lot while you were in New York.”
I could sense something else in her voice as I tugged at more lettuce. A little bit of wistfulness and longing that I knew she felt for Sawyer and had probably felt from the second she left. My eyes moved to her, watching as she sliced away at tomatoes, moving so gingerly, so delicately.
“It’s really nice to be back,” I said. “Not just because of them, but because New York is so… overwhelming. It’s nice to be somewhere quiet and peaceful and just… home.”
“Nothing beats home, right?” Linda asked with a little, thoughtful looking smile.
“No, I guess not. I promise New York’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I said. “Your home feels pretty special too.”
“We have a garden designed by Spencer Hardwick,” Linda said. “You can’t find that anywhere else.”
“No, you definitely can’t.”
Me and Linda shared some more small talk while we sliced up tomatoes and red onions and cilantro, and then Kurt went outside to call Sawyer and Spencer in for dinner. I helped Linda bring all the food out to the dining room, the scent of perfectly seasoned chicken hitting me and making my stomach grumble. I felt two hands on my shoulders and turned to see Sawyer, the tiniest streak of dirt against his chin.
“Only you,” I said, wiping away the dirt with a soft thumb.
Smiling, he pressed a little kiss to my cheek. That was when I noticed Spencer on the other side of the table. He was reaching forward, his little tongue stuck out as he tried to grab at the ceramic milk jug at the center of the table.
“I got ya,” Sawyer murmured, grabbing at the jug with ease.
He held it out for Spencer who gave his brother a wide smile, sliding a whole bunch of bright, bold sunflowers into it. They contrasted beautifully against the smooth white jug as Sawyer got it settled back into place.
“You boys seemed to have had fun out there,” Linda said. “Time to eat now, though. Everyone dig in.”
Kurt and Linda had gone all out. The dining table was a collection of bright colors: the green of the cilantro and lettuce, the crimson of the tomatoes, the vibrant purple of the onions—all topped off with Spencer’s bright yellow sunflowers. Linda was moving around the dining table, pouring everyone some soda, and I couldn’t help but notice the way she grasped Sawyer’s shoulder when she leaned in to fill his glass. What I also couldn’t help butnotice was his shoulders getting all tensed up in the middle of it all. My hand found his thigh so I could give him a squeeze, and in a second flat, his hand was covering mine. For the quickest of seconds, I felt his thumb brush against my ring finger, and my mind and heart were reeled back to that moment the other day: us slow dancing, bodies pressed together, him whispering out those soft words as that song played in the background.
“I hope you guys like the tacos,” Linda said as she took a seat across from me, right next to Kurt. Her eyes moved over to Sawyer’s, all wide with uncertainty. “Sawyer, I don’t know if you like tacos anymore. You used to like them. Do you still like them?”
Sawyer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, yeah. Smells real good. Thanks.”
With shaky fingers, Linda pushed some hair behind her ear. “So, I’ve been looking at that website again of yours, Sawyer. You really are so talented. I might have to buy a couple of your paintings.”
“Holly set that up for me,” Sawyer said. “I can just, you know, give you some. The ones you like. You don’t… You don’t need to pay…”
“That’d be nice,” Linda said. “I’d hang them up all over the place.”
“My room too,” Spencer piped up, his glass of soda in hand. “You could paint the garden. All my flowers. Could you do that, Sawyer?”
For a second, Sawyer stayed quiet, his brows knitted together slightly before he gave Spencer a little smile. “Yeah, I could do that for you.”
