Page 77 of The Tattered Gloves
Because the truth was, he was so much more.
“Are you going to answer the door or leave the poor boy freezing outside?” Addy asked, peeking up from her spot in the kitchen.
“Right,” I answered, propelling forward toward the door. The moment my hand touched the knob, I felt a rush of anxiety as I pulled it toward me.
Should have worn a different shirt. Why did I wear my hair like this? Oh, crap, what if he really is firing me? Did I brush my teeth?
“Hey, Mittens.” Sam smiled, his warm voice cutting through the brisk chill of the outdoors.
“Hey,” I answered back, feeling awkward and happy at the same time, as I leaned against the door, staring at his familiar frame across from mine.
“You going to let me in, or do I have to beg?” he asked, that jaw-dropping smile of his widening even further.
“Oh! Yes! Sorry,” I said, stumbling a bit as I stepped backward to let him pass.
This is going to be a complete nightmare.
“Sam, good to see you,” Addy said, greeting him with open arms.
They hugged like old friends, and I suddenly felt oddly out of place, like I was witnessing something private and precious. I turned my head for a moment to give them a second to catch up.
“I made your favorite — cinnamon rolls,” she said, still giving him a tight squeeze around the shoulders. “It’s Willow’s favorite, too.”
“It’s everyone’s favorite,” he corrected. “If your salon fails, you can make a living off your cooking for sure. Do you still make those cookies? The ones with the—”
“Cherries?”
“Yes,” he replied. He turned toward me. “They were always my favorite. When she first offered them to me, the little kid in me turned his nose at the idea of fruit in my cookies, but then she hooked me, saying there was chocolate and little bits of candy.”
Addy shrugged. “Toffee is a candy.”
“Not to a five-year-old. When she handed me this cookie that mostly resembled a chocolate chip cookie with fruit thrown in, I was not impressed. But she insisted, saying I could have a treat afterward.”
They smiled simultaneously.
“And you loved it, right?”
He nodded. “I did. And I never doubted you again.”
Even though I knew he was talking about cookies, I felt there was a deeper meaning behind his words. I watched something pass between them as we all headed toward the kitchen, grabbing the last few items for the table, and I wondered what piece of the puzzle I was missing.
“I DON’T THINK I’ve been this full in years,” Sam admitted as we stepped out of the house.
After watching him somehow manage to stuff three cinnamon rolls, several helpings of egg casserole, and a handful of bacon into his stomach, Addy had suggested we take a walk while she cleaned the kitchen.
I’d protested, offering to help, but the look she had given me suggested it was more of a demand than a subtle recommendation.
December had hit Virginia like a battering ram this year, bringing early snowfall and plenty of ice. I was sure it was a normal occurrence in places farther north, but here, where we actually looked forward to snow days, it was a total game changer. School had already been canceled twice before Christmas break, something that had only happened a handful of times in the school’s history, and today, as we stepped outside for our brisk morning walk, a few snow flurries were already falling from the sky.
“I guess we’ll be getting a white Christmas after all,” Sam said, lifting his head toward the heavens with his hands casually in his pockets. Several snowflakes fell on his face, melting instantly as they touched his skin. The water dripped down his cheeks as he tried to shake off the cold.
“Why are you here?” I blurted out, hating myself instantly. “I mean, not that I don’t want you to be… because I do — if you want to be. It’s just, I can’t figure out why. You were nostalgic with Addy about cookies and scarfed down our food and sat in our house… and I just—”
He stopped in the middle of the street, the snow falling all around us. Kids were outside, riding new bikes and chasing each other on the powder-covered lawns. Yet all I could focus on was him. The brilliant green of his irises and the way he never ceased to smile, even when I was being slightly rude and erratic.
“I came to see you. I thought that was obvious,” he answered, never missing a beat.
My hands dug further into my jacket pockets. “But why? Why me?”
