Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

the same foil to keep it warm, he poured the pasta into a waiting colander, slid it into a pretty blue bowl, and dropped butter on top of it. “Want to grab the plates?” he asked, hoping she didn’t mind having her dinner served buffet-style.

“Absolutely,” she said, handing one to him.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning. “After all, I don’t want you to pass out from hunger.”

She took his teasing in stride and heaped her plate with salad and pasta, ladled sauce on top, sprinkled it with fresh parmesan, and then took her wine and the foil-wrapped bread to the table. Gage always insisted she go first—it didn’t matter if they were in line for a movie or passing out plates for a buffet dinner at her parents’ house. He was always courteous and polite. She would never forget the first time she’d brought him home to meet her parents. He’d politely shaken her mom’s hand first, and then turned to firmly clasp her dad’s. When her mom had said dinner was ready, her dad—who considered himself an authority on gentleman’s etiquette—had waited, watching, and then smiled approvingly when Gage, without prompting, waited for the ladies to be seated before sitting himself. Gage was an old soul and a true Southern gentleman, and it hadn’t taken long for her to fall head over heels in love with him. “I can’t believe you did all this after spending all day helping me move,” she said, eyeing him as he sat down.

“It wasn’t hard—just pasta,” he said. “My mainstay,” he added with a smile as he opened the bread. “Plus, I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I’m really glad I’m here, too.”

They heard a thunk on the floor and looked under the table to see Gus sprawled at their feet. Gage laughed and shook his head. “So, did you get your security deposit back?”

“I did,” she said, and then eyed him. “Do I need to give it to you?”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know . . . do you?”

She laughed. “I don’t plan on doing any damage.” But as she said these words, the irony wasn’t lost on her—the potential emotional damage she could exact was profound.

“Then I’m good,” he said, squeezing her hand.

14

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HONEY,” LAURIE SAID AS MASON LEANED OVER TO give her a hug. “Can you believe it’s June?!”

Mason shook his head. “I cannot.”

“And look at you! From a three-pound, six-ounce preemie to a strapping six-foot-two handsome, smart, amazing young man. Who would’ve thought it?”

Mason felt his cheeks flame and shook his head. “You wouldn’t be biased at all?”

“Me? Heck, no!” She tried to sit up, but moving—even the slightest bit—sent a shooting pain through her body and she winced.

“You okay?” he asked, standing to help her adjust her pillow.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, but he knew she’d asked the nurses not to give her any pain medicine so she wouldn’t be drowsy, and now she was paying the price.

“So, are you excited about tomorrow? Do you have your speech prepared?”

“Yep,” he lied.

“Good! And you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine. Sue is bringing me, and she’ll make sure I don’t embarrass you.”

“Mom,” he said, tears springing to his eyes. “I’m not worried about you embarrassing me. That’s not it. I want you to be there, I just don’t want you to wear yourself out. It’s not worth it.”

“It is worth it to me, Mason,” she said softly. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you graduate for as long as I can remember. That’s what moms do—their hearts fill with hopes and dreams for their kids—they imagine them doing amazing things, and they pray that they will never be disappointed or hurt. Mason, it means everything to me to be there tomorrow.”

Mason bit his lip. “Okay,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m sorry I’ve been trying to make it sound like it isn’t a big deal. I didn’t see it that way. I want you to be there, Mom. It’s just going to be . . .” But before he could finish his sentence there was a knock on the door.

He wiped his eyes and turned to see Ali and her mom coming into the room, carrying a birthday cake, and singing “Happy Birthday to You.”

“Happy birthday, Mason!” they both said, giving him a hug.

“Thanks,” he replied. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Are you kidding?” Sue teased. “Not have cake on your eighteenth birthday?”

Ali nudged him. “I know there are no candles, Mase, but you can still make a wish.”

“Absolutely,” prompted Sue.

Mason nodded, closed his eyes, and thought of a wish.

When he opened them again, his mom smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I hope you wished for something good!”

“I did,” he said, his own eyes glistening, knowing it would probably never come true.

Sue cut the cake and put the slices on festive paper plates, which Ali handed out, but Laurie only took one small bite of her requested sliver before setting it on her tray table. “I’m gonna have to eat mine a little later,” she said, smiling. “I’m still full from supper.”

Mason nodded, even though he could see her untouched dinner on the table in the corner. “This is really good, Mrs. Harrison,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I know how much you like chocolate, Mase,” she said with a smile. “We were going to bring ice cream, but we thought it might melt.”

“This is great,” he said. “We don’t need ice cream.”

“Sooo . . . graduation is at eleven tomorrow,” Sue said, eyeing her friend. “Shall I pick you up at ten?”

“That would be perfect,” Laurie said, smiling to hide the pain she was in.

“Your doctor okayed it?” Mason asked, sensing that all was not well.

“Absolutely,” Laurie said.

“Okay, well, we better let you get some rest then,” he said, hoping that once they left, she would let the nurse give her something for pain.

“Oh, my goodness!” she said suddenly. “I almost forgot to give you your present!”

Mason frowned. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” she said, smiling. “I had