Page 126 of New Growth
“For the last time,” I said, rolling my eyes, “peanuts are not a tree nut.”
He smirked, amused but still curious. “What’s the occasion? You like peanut butter now?”
I shrugged, suddenly shy. “They’re not really for me. You like crunchy and salty things. I needed to take my mind off today, so I experimented.”
He stilled. “You made these for me?”
I nodded again. “They should help with your sugar levels. And they aren’t too sweet.”
The energy in the room shifted as he picked one up. Watching me. He took a bite and remained silent as he continued watching me.
“You like it?” I asked, nervously.Please tell me I didn’t waste this afternoon baking something he hated.
He smiled after a while. “You make it hard for me to not catch feelings. You know that, right?”
Damn it.
“Did you get to finish your project?” I countered, eager to change the subject.
He scoffed as he set the package on the counter. “What do you think this is?”
My eyebrows furrowed together, and my nosey nature took over. Carefully, I unwrapped it, and the second the paper peeled away, my breath caught in my throat.
It was a portrait.
Of me. But not just me—me and Daddy.
It was how I looked now, my current self, but he had placed my father beside me as if he were still here. His warm, familiar smile, the slightcrinkles around his eyes, the way his arm rested protectively around my shoulders—it was as if nothing had changed, like I hadn’t lost him.
My fingers trembled as I reached out, ghosting over the painted canvas.
“El…” My voice cracked.
“Do you like it?” he asked quietly.
“It looks just like him.” I laughed, but it came out broken, like a sob. “I love it. But—how?”
“The photo in your room,” he admitted. “I took pictures of it when I slept over. For reference.”
I looked over all the details and line work. It must have taken him a while to create this. “You planned this for a long time.”
He scratched his beard awkwardly. “I wanted to get it right.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, and before I could think, before I could stop myself, I turned and kissed him.
My arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. It wasn’t planned or thought out. It was raw, fueled by grief, by longing, by need. His hands wrapped around my waist, and he took over.
The warmth of his lips and the way he inhaled sharply against my mouth felt too good.
I yanked back, my heart pounding.
“Fuck!” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m so sorry! I just got carried away.”
El didn’t move. He just looked at me, steady as ever.
“It’s fine,” he said simply.
“No, seriously!” My chest heaved. “All this shit with my family, and I’m still grieving my father, and now I just—” I let out a frustrated groan. “It’s like I’m losing control. I can’t tell if I’m an emotional wreck or if my period’s coming.”
