The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (60 page)

Her eyes pool with tears as I speak, but none fall. When I finish, she smiles at me before cupping her hands around my face and gracing me with a kiss.
“
I love you so much, Grayson O
’
Conner. You. Are. Amazing. Don
’
t believe anything less.
”

I slump forward, pressing my forehead against hers.
“
I don
’
t deserve you.
”

“
I
’
ll never believe that,
”
she assures me; and then she shuts me up with a kiss.

This time, I dare not argue.

When Sarah and I walk into the cafe, it
’
s already buzzing with a crowd full of energy. I look around to see if I can spot Roman, but I don
’
t see him. Sarah suggests we order our drinks while we wait and so we do, hopping into the short line that forms at the counter. A friendly barista named Brandon takes our order and passes the marked cups to his partner. I
’
m reaching into my purse for my wallet when I
’
m distracted by the sound of her voice.

“
Hey, Addie. Hey, Sarah,
”
Daphne greets us both with a welcoming smile. It
’
s amazing how her lip ring seems to add to the warmth of her expression. She
’
s straightened her wavy locks, making her asymmetrical cut look even more dramatic than before; and her bangs cover her shadow covered eye until she tosses her head and they fly off of her face.
“
You two picked an awesome night to stop in.
”

For a moment, I
’
m speechless. I haven
’
t seen her since the night of my birthday and I can
’
t believe she actually remembers my name. As if Sarah can read my mind, she asks,
“
How did you know she was Addie?
”
I laugh, amused that Sarah is not at all concerned with how Daphne remembered
her
name, too.

“
Avery clued me in.
One of these things is not like the other
,
”
she sings that last bit as she twirls a strand of pink hair around her finger.
“
Now that I know the trick to tell you two apart, I can continue my streak of being that badass barista who never forgets a name,
”
she adds with a wink.

Sarah giggles at her as she nods her approval.
“
I forgot how much I liked you,
”
she says bluntly.

“
Well, don
’
t let it happen again and I won
’
t hold it against you. You both get major cool points for making it to open mic night.
”

“
Yeah, I
’
m kind of excited,
”
I admit, already soaking in some of the anticipation that fills the atmosphere.
“
I
’
ve never been to one before. Roman invited us.
”

“
Oh
, is that right?
”
she asks, hoisting an eyebrow at me.
“
Is that why he
’
s currently paying for your drinks?
”

Both Sarah and I turn to find Roman doing just that. I watch, open mouthed, as he slips his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. My protest is caught in my throat, lodged and unmoving, as my eyes take in a sight I
’
ve never seen
—
Roman dressed for a casual night out. I
’
ve seen him in his work clothes
—
a pair of dark jeans and the black polo we all wear
—
and I've seen him in his workout clothes
—
gym shorts and a loose fitting sleeveless t-shirt
—
but never like this. The jeans he wears are light gray, fitted low on his hips, and held snuggly with a hunter-green belt. His low cut V-neck t-shirt
—
which reveals a hint of chest hair and hugs him close enough that you can see the curves of his muscular physic underneath
—
is a charcoal gray that brings out the warm tones in his sun-kissed skin. As simple as the difference in attire might be, I'm not sure that I
’
ve ever seen him look more like himself.

“
You didn
’
t have to do that,
”
I finally manage.

“
But thank you,
”
pipes in Sarah, nudging me with her elbow.

“
I know,
”
he tells me with a smile before leaning in to greet me with an embrace.
“
And you
’
re welcome.
”
I return the gesture, his arms around me becoming more and more familiar and welcomed as the weeks go by.
Everyone loves a good hug, right?

When he pulls away from me, he goes to hug Sarah next. She catches my eye from over his shoulder and mouths
‘
oh, my gosh
’
before making a face that implies she might melt into a puddle at any moment. I laugh softly and roll my eyes at her.

“
Glad you both made it,
”
he says, stepping away from Sarah.

“
Me too. I was just telling Daphne that I
’
ve never been to an event like this before.
”

“
I
’
m actually surprised,
”
says Sarah as she slips her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“
Beck never thought to bring you to something like this? It kind of seems right up your ally
—
she who always has a book of words in her hands
.
”

An involuntary sigh escapes me as I try pushing away the ache that resurfaced earlier, which seems to pinch at my heart at the sound of his name.
“
Yeah, well, he
’
s not really into poetry. Or readings. Or books, actually
—
unless it's his Bible or a textbook of some kind.
”

“
That
’
s true. Weird, considering he works at a bookstore, but true.
”

“
That was actually my idea. So I could get his employee discount. I was just joking at first but
…”
Man.
Talking about him is so not helping me right now.
Especially knowing he
’
s at work
. Two of my favorite things in the same place at the same time. Books and my boyfriend.
Well, used-to-be boyfriend
—
or
…
whatever.

“
This can just be
your
thing, then,
”
says Roman, interrupting my thoughts. I meet his gaze, eased by his statement.
“
That is, if you enjoy it.
”

“
I have a feeling I will,
”
I murmur.

“
Order up!
”
calls Daphne, setting three drinks on the bar.

“
Daph, I didn
’
t order anything.
”

“
What kind of sister would I be to let you sit here all night without the best damn chai in the city? Please,
”
she huffs in exasperation.
“
Now go find seats before there aren
’
t any left.
”

Roman reaches for his drink without further argument before leaning across the counter. Daphne, knowing what he
’
s after, lifts up on to her tiptoes as she leans in as well, offering him her cheek. He kisses her in thanks before we go to find someplace to settle. Sarah grabs my hand as we fall behind Roman and flashes me her most endearing look, her bright blue eyes big and beautiful. She mouths,
‘
how cute was that?
’
and I can
’
t contain my giggle. I squeeze her hand and bat my eyelashes at her as I mouth,
‘
you SO like him!
’
She shakes her head at me and we both laugh. When Roman looks back at us, we crack up even more.

And another bandaid covers my open wound.

I don't usually work Sundays but I was pretty grateful for the distraction this afternoon. I woke up feeling pretty decent, but that only lasted about an hour before frustration kicked in.
Frustration.
It
’
s no longer simply an emotion, it
’
s a new state of being that comes and goes, recently
—
a byproduct of my spiritual standstill. I feel completely directionless.

I used to think going to church helped with that feeling; Pastor Doug is great about challenging the congregation and touching on relevant topics. Even if he
’
s in the middle of a series that I can
’
t directly plug into the socket that is my current season of life, I
’
m usually able to gain something from it. Sometimes, that just means holding onto bits and pieces for later. But ever since the breakup
—
four weeks and counting
—
nothing he says feels helpful. Maybe that's not fair, because it
’
s not as if he can preach a sermon every week that
’
s meant only for me and the crap-fest that is my current situation, but it just makes it difficult to figure anything out.