The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (9 page)

I giggle as I watch them go and then shift my attention back to Grayson.
“
So, need any help in there?
”

“
Uh
—”
he looks down at the skillet, which holds two sandwiches, and then back at me.
“
I guess you could grab some plates if you wanted. I
’
m almost done.
”

“
Sure.
”
I head directly to the cabinet that houses their dishes. I know their kitchen just about as well as I know my own, so I need no more than his invitation to fulfill my task; but when I open the swinging door, I notice that all the clean plates are out of reach. As I contemplate the best course of action from this point, I hear Sonny laugh softly beside me. I shoot him a playful scowl and am formulating a smart remark when he takes me by surprise. Before I know it, his hands are secured around my waist and I
’
m being lifted from the floor.

For a moment I can
’
t breathe. I
’
m too overwhelmed by his touch. It
’
s not his hands alone that make my heart skip a beat
—
rather, it
’
s my enjoyment of his familiarity. I don
’
t read into it, though.
He
’
s giving me a boost, that
’
s all. Plates! That
’
s why I
’
m up here
—
plates!
I grab a couple and then he returns me to my feet.
“
Thanks,
”
I murmur, turning to give him a smile. When our gazes meet, I feel my cheeks warm and I curse them for giving me away.

“
Anytime,
”
he responds.

Now
I have to turn away. I duck my head, too, allowing my hair to form a barrier around my face.
Gosh, what am I, twelve?
“
Um,
”
I stammer.
“
Do you want to eat here or in the dining room or
…
?
”

“
You pick. Just wherever we can eat and study at the same time.
”

I opt for the dining room. After I set our plates down and grab a couple napkins, I head for my stack of work that I discarded on the couch earlier. By the time I
’
m seated at the table, there
’
s a sandwich on my plate and two on Sonny
’
s. He joins me a minute later with his own stack of work but then promptly jumps up to grab something else from the kitchen. Two glasses of water. I thank him when he sits in the seat next to me.

“
What
’
s on your agenda this afternoon?
”
he asks, nodding at my notebook as he takes his first bite.

“
Music theory. You?
”

“
Accounting.
”

“
Hmm
—
our future big-time CPA in the house,
”
I say, speaking around the delicious bite of gooey cheese and toasted bread that
’
s in my mouth.

He chuckles and shakes his head at me.
“
Your confidence in me is appreciated.
”

“
Of course, I have confidence in you.
”
While our conversation is lighthearted, I know his comment means more than it appears at face value. I don
’
t know a lot about his past, because he doesn
’
t like to talk about it, but I do know that he doesn
’
t come from a family that ever offered him much support or encouragement. It
’
s not something I can relate to
—
because my family, while far from perfect, is really incredible, loving, and stable. I can
’
t imagine having anything less; and while I don
’
t know just how bad things were for him growing up, I have enough of an idea to know that I should never be shy about praising him. He deserves that sort of support and love from his friends
—
his family away from home.

Truth be told, it
’
s beyond my ability to understand why he would want to be an
accountant
; personally, I think that sounds a bit boring
—
but that
’
s in comparison to my aspiration to play in a world renowned orchestra one day. Not everyone can have the same dream. I simply admire him for being unapologetic about his. I know he works hard. He
’
s not like Beckham. Hammy is naturally smart; not to say that studying to be a doctor won
’
t be hard for him, but up until this point, he
’
s been able to breeze his way through his undergrad studies. His goal is centered more around finishing
—
getting to the end of the crazy requirements that entail becoming a doctor. With Grayson, it
’
s different. He wants to succeed and with him I know nothing is taken for granted
—
hard classes, easy classes, it doesn
’
t matter
—
he puts in just as much effort. He has to. I admire that.

“
I know you
’
ll be working for some big firm one day,
”
I continue.
“
You
’
re determined and driven and you never give up.
”

“
Qualities you recognize because you have them yourself,
”
he says softly as he reaches for his water.

I nod slightly, unable to disagree.
“
We
’
re the only ones who can make our dreams come true, right?
”

“
Yeah,
”
he answers simply.

“
Although, how you got stuck with the dream of becoming an accountant
…”
I scrunch the features of my face to playfully express my sympathy and he laughs. The sound brings a smile to my face.

“
Well, if it doesn
’
t work out, I can always just pack a bag and become a groupie
—
follow you and your cello all over the world.
”

“
Oh, yeah,
”
I say with a grin.
“
It
’
s always good to have a plan b.
”

We banter back and forth for just a few more minutes before we both shift our focus to our studies. I
’
ll admit that I miss our conversation almost as suddenly as it stops, but there
’
s also something nice about just being in the same room with Sonny, each of us doing our own thing but still sharing each other
’
s company. It
’
s also not lost on me that Jack and Claire haven
’
t resurfaced since they left us a while ago. I
’
ll have to give Claire a hug for that later.
 

This week seems to have disappeared right before my eyes. I try not to rush as I double check my bag for all my necessary study materials. I
’
m sure we won
’
t be back from our visit home until late Sunday afternoon or early Sunday evening, and my first final is Monday morning. I
’
m not worried, but I
’
m also not overly confident. I
’
ll need to squeeze in some studying at some point this weekend. My focus has been a little
…
off
for the past few days.

While I try and shake the unease that has lingered in the pit of my stomach since my walk with Beckham last Sunday, I
’
m not very successful. Every spare moment I have, the memory of our conversation creeps into my head and the dreadful discomfort that is my newly conceived insecurity rests heavily inside of me. I
’
m baffled by the possibility that in a year
’
s time, I might not be married.

It is true that we
’
ve never really talked dates whenever we
’
ve discussed our future marriage.
Someday
implied after college and that was enough. Naive, maybe, but enough. What mattered most to me was that we wanted the same thing. I know Beck is fully capable of making future plans
—
he
’
d planned for college very well and he
’
s already decided on the ten different medical schools he plans on applying to before the end of the calendar year
—
so I had no doubt that he
’
d have some sort of plan concerning our relationship
…
or at least a partial plan
. I don
’
t know what to think knowing, now, that I was wrong.

But he loves me
—
my current mantra.
He loves me and he wants me and that
’
s his promise.
We
’
ve seen each other throughout this week, of course, and he has been his usual self. I really feel like I need to get a grip. Just because things might not turn out the way I think they should, that doesn
’
t mean that I should doubt him. Doubt us.
That
’
s enough for right now, isn
’
t it?
Honestly, I
’
m not sure anymore; but for at least another week, it has to be.

I shake my head, wanting to rid my mind of such thoughts, and take a deep breath. I need my mom. Growing up, both my mom and my dad had what they liked to call an
open door policy
. They always wanted Ave and I to feel comfortable talking to them about anything and everything. They promised never to judge, no matter what. Remarkably, they held up their end of the deal. Granted, that didn
’
t always mean we didn
’
t get in trouble when we admitted something that they didn
’
t approve of, but they somehow managed to handle the situation in such a way that would always leave Ave and me going back to them again and again.