Not So Nice Guy
Page 45
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“Promise me she’ll always stay this little.” I sound desperate.
He rubs his thumb back and forth on my shoulder. “No can do.”
“Promise me she’ll always be a mommy’s girl.”
“Ehhh, is she though?” he teases. “Her first word was Dada—that can’t be a coincidence.”
I have a real, ludicrous urge to cry.
“What can you promise me?! Sheesh, my heart is breaking here.”
He chuckles and reaches over to tip my chin up so my face is tilted toward him.
“Sam…Samwich…Sam and cheese…”
I blink my eyes open. His blue eyes are inches from mine.
“I can’t make promises about the big things, but I can promise you we’ll always watch West Wing on Wednesdays.”
“Obviously.”
“I can promise that as long as you’re the head of the Oak Hill Gazette, I’ll read every issue.”
I grip his shirt with a wild plea. “You have to—you’re our most devoted reader.”
“I also promise to send you the most Valentine’s Day bears out of every teacher at the school.”
Our tradition still stands. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“So does the choir director. I think we make up half of his annual fundraising revenue with our antics.”
I grin, and then it fades as I realize something.
“You’re leaving out one thing,” I prod.
He frowns. “What?” Then an idea hits him. “Oh, right: I’ll always love you. Is that what you were after?”
I sigh with feigned exasperation, like, Ugh, you idiot. “No. Love shmove—I don’t care about that. Promise me you’ll always be my best friend.”
He laughs, tips his head down, and kisses my cheek.
“I thought that was obvious, Hot Lips. Best friends, forever.”
He rubs his thumb back and forth on my shoulder. “No can do.”
“Promise me she’ll always be a mommy’s girl.”
“Ehhh, is she though?” he teases. “Her first word was Dada—that can’t be a coincidence.”
I have a real, ludicrous urge to cry.
“What can you promise me?! Sheesh, my heart is breaking here.”
He chuckles and reaches over to tip my chin up so my face is tilted toward him.
“Sam…Samwich…Sam and cheese…”
I blink my eyes open. His blue eyes are inches from mine.
“I can’t make promises about the big things, but I can promise you we’ll always watch West Wing on Wednesdays.”
“Obviously.”
“I can promise that as long as you’re the head of the Oak Hill Gazette, I’ll read every issue.”
I grip his shirt with a wild plea. “You have to—you’re our most devoted reader.”
“I also promise to send you the most Valentine’s Day bears out of every teacher at the school.”
Our tradition still stands. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“So does the choir director. I think we make up half of his annual fundraising revenue with our antics.”
I grin, and then it fades as I realize something.
“You’re leaving out one thing,” I prod.
He frowns. “What?” Then an idea hits him. “Oh, right: I’ll always love you. Is that what you were after?”
I sigh with feigned exasperation, like, Ugh, you idiot. “No. Love shmove—I don’t care about that. Promise me you’ll always be my best friend.”
He laughs, tips his head down, and kisses my cheek.
“I thought that was obvious, Hot Lips. Best friends, forever.”
