Page 7 of Infinite as They Come
“Don’t say that,” she whispered as she blinked those Bambi eyes my way, lashes all long and dark. “You’d break my heart, Sawyer.”
The way she said it—in that soft, little, too fucking sweet voice—mademyheart break a little. My chest got all tight as I pulled her in closer. “I’m just joking, angel. Could never break your heart.” I pressed my lips to the top of her head, giving her a long, lingering kiss as I inhaled that scent of lavender I couldn’t ever get enough of. “I love you too much.”
“I love you too,” she said.
“But I get what you mean. I can’t believe it either sometimes. All those fights…”
“So many, many fights,” she said, giving her head a little shake. “So young, so stupid.”
“I think it’s kinda cool how you never took shit from me.”
She snorted. “There was something about arguing with you specifically that was kinda fun. Remember that time in middle school when you said I wouldn’t make the cheer team? Hm? And then when I did, you told everyone my dad bribed the coachandthe principalandsome of the teachers to let me on the team.”
I grinned at the memory. “Nah, I don’t remember that.”
“Liar.”
“Remind me again what happened.”
“You know exactly what happened.” She narrowed her eyes. “You sure liked to give me a hard time.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d take that all back if I could. If I could go back in time I’d change. I’d be better to you. Nicer to you. I wish I had been.”
“Do you remember the day we first met?” she asked, shifting in a little closer. She laid her hands on my chest and rested her chin on top.
My hand instinctively found her hair, my fingers gently moving through the strands as the memory hit me. I could remember the moment me and Holly met clear as day. Her sitting at her desk all prim and proper, me wondering why the hell a girl like her wasn’t off at some expensive ass private school. “Yeah. I thought you were so pretty,” I said. “Even then, I knew you were the prettiest girl in the world.”
“Little eight-year-old you knew that, huh?”
“Eight-year-old me was smart as hell. You walked in that room all polished and tidy and perfect, and there I was…” My tongue clicked. “Trailer trash sitting a couple feet away from you.”
Her eyes softened suddenly. “I love you. And I love that you’re not polished and tidy. That’s what makes you so perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Sawyer.”
“You’re sweet,” I murmured, my fingers still brushing through her hair. “My perfect girl. I love you so much, you know that? Never gonna stop loving you. And I’m gonna make up for all those dumb fights we had. I promise I will.”
“You already have. But, you know,” she said, brows pulling togethersuddenly, “sometimes I think about what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped doing that. Fighting, I mean. What if we never fell in love? Just the idea of not being yours, or you being someone else’s… I hate the thought so much.”
“So do I,” I said. “But we don’t have to worry about that, Holly. I’m yours and you’re mine, and it’s gonna stay like that.”
A little smile stretched across her face, her cheeks still that pretty shade of pink. Her eyes widened suddenly and she flew out from my grasp, my hands instantly missing her soft, warm body on mine as she sat up.
“Ooh, I almost forgot!” she said, moving to the side of the room where all our bags were. Her bags, mostly. I hadn’t brought that much stuff with me, but she still had a whole bunch of clothes and girly stuff back at her parents’ place that she had stuffed into the truck when we left. She unzipped one of the bags and pulled something out of it, turning back around with an even bigger smile on her face. There was a little blue box in her hands as she came back over, kneeling next to me on the bed.
“Are you proposing, baby?” I asked as I sat up straight. “That’s supposed to be my job.”
Her eyes stayed on mine before they lowered, a soft laugh leaving her lips. “No, nothing like that. It’s just a gift for you. Something I think will come in handy. I got it done in New York.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Holly,” I said as she rested the box in my lap.
I took the lid off, my brows furrowing when I saw a business card looking back at me. It had my name scrawled across the middle, my phone number there at the bottom and a strip of one of my paintings along the top. It was an older painting, one I had done a couple years ago: some field I had taken Holly to when we first started dating. There was a link to a website with my name in it and I wasn’t entirely sure where it would lead, but it was the ‘Fine Artist’ in big bold letters under my name that really caught my attention. I still didn’t feel all that comfortable with that label. I painted. I liked it. I wanted to do it until the day I died, but that title always felt like something that was out of reach.
“Do you like them?” Holly asked softly. “I didn’t really know what design to go with. That’s more your thing, but I wanted to surprise you. Now you can hand them out, right?”
“Holly,” I said lowly, placing the box down carefully. It was a little heavy and I wondered how many she had got me. My hand was quick to land on the small of her back, pulling her to me so that she was in my lap. “It’s a real nice gift. Thank you.”
“I thought you’d think it was kinda stupid,” she said shyly. “That I was going a little overboard. But you’re so talented, Sawyer. I want everyone to see that.”
I hummed and gave her a squeeze. “You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve it after I told everyone your dad was writing checks to get you on the cheer team.”
