Today's Promises (Promises #2)(24)

Jaynie finishes with the register, pours me some coffee, and then starts wrapping up cold cuts and cheeses she pulls from a case under the counter.

“You want any help putting that stuff away?” I ask.

“Yeah”—she pushes a roll of salami and two cheeses my way—“sure.”

My stomach starts to growl, which makes Jaynie smack her head and declare, “Crap. I forgot all about dinner.”

“I am kind of famished,” I state. “Lunch was hours ago. I’m probably pretty close to starving about now.”

I’m teasing around, but I realize my mistake immediately when Jaynie’s eyes meet mine. “You’re just kidding, right?” She chews at her bottom lip. “You’re just a normal kind of hungry, I hope?”

Despite making progress, there are still days, for both of us, when no amount of food is enough. But today I’m okay, and I assure Jaynie, “I’m just regular hungry. It was a bad joke on my part.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. And then there’s this moment of stilted silence, where I meticulously wrap up Swiss cheese and she fidgets with a stack of plates, straightening them all in until they’re in an even pile.

Reminders of the past, and the fact we’ve not yet erased our demons, always tend to dampen our moods.

But Jaynie seems determined to keep us forward-focused, when, in a cheery tone, she says, “Speaking of dinner, I can easily throw some ham and cheese sandwiches together. We can even press them into paninis if you want.”

I smile at her. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

She continues. “There’s also some leftover potato salad. We can finish that off too. I doubt it’ll stay good for much longer.”

“Works for me,” I reply.

Part of our rental agreement with Bill is that we’re allowed to eat anything we want from the sandwich shop. It works out nicely too, since we have no kitchen up in our room. Yet another reason why we need a larger apartment.

All in due time. A car comes first.

After pressing paninis and polishing off two sandwiches each, along with that soon-to-expire potato salad—which actually tastes perfectly fresh to me—Jaynie and I move to the front of the store so we can watch the snow fall outside the big picture window facing the street.

We settle into one of the plushiest sofas, and nestling back against me, her auburn hair fanning out across my chest, Jaynie says, “It really is beautiful, Flynn.”

She means the snow, but I only have eyes for her.

Reaching down to lift a strand of her shiny hair, I hold it up to the light. As I admire all the shimmery hues of copper, I murmur, “Yes, definitely beautiful.”

She twists around to face me, her hair falling from my grasp like a liquefied precious metal. “I meant the snow, silly,” she says with a chuckle.

Urging her to lay face-down against me, I wrap my arms around her back. “I knew what you meant,” I say lightly. “But as pretty as the snow is I’d much rather look at you. You’re far more gorgeous.”

To me, that’s the God’s-honest truth. A lot of guys would serve up lines like that, well, as lines. But corny as it sounds I genuinely feel that way about Jaynie. I see the purest of beauty when I look at her.

“Flynn, Flynn, Flynn…” She rests her cheek against my chest, her fingers sliding beneath the hem of my shirt. A move made simply to give us more of the skin-to-skin contact we never stop craving. “Did I tell you I love you yet today?”

“Maybe this morning,” I reply. “But tell me again. I never get tired of hearing it.”

“I love you,” she says.

Three simple words composed of three syllables. How amazing it never ceases to be when I hear them pass Jaynie’s lips. Those words hold the power to lift me up, to soothe my soul, and to make me a better man.

And that’s what Jaynie deserves—the best me that I can be.





Jaynie



It takes some fancy talking, but I finally succeed in convincing Flynn that we should ditch the sandwich shop for a couple hours and go out and play in the snow.

“Are you crazy?” he says initially. “I walked from the bus stop, remember? It’s not only a pain to get around in all that snow, but it’s freaking cold as hell out there.”

“Oh, come on.” I tug at him, urging him up from the sofa. “Live a little. We can wear lots of layers. And besides, it’s April. This is probably the last big snow till next year.”

“How can I argue with reasoning like that,” he then says.

Fifteen minutes later, bundled up and ready for the Arctic, we find ourselves outside in a wintry wonderland. The snow still falls, fast and furious, but we’re making the most of it. No traffic in the streets means we’re able to start an impromptu snowball fight, right outside the front of the shop.

I get in a few nice hits right away, then I zigzag my way across the road to the other side. When Flynn proceeds to lob a succession of icy white balls my way, I run around the side of the building and make a getaway.

My plan is to flee to the nearby park.

“Hey, no fair,” I hear him calling out to me as I run off, his voice fading as I break into a sprint. “You’re way out of firing range.”

“You’re damn right I am,” I holler back.