He lifts his head, his lips quirking. “I loveyou.”
His words make my heart pound against my chest, and I smile, tilting my head at him. “You want to memorize me now?”
“No.”
My brows furrow. “No?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t need to.”
“Oh?” I ask, intrigued.
He shifts on his elbow, running his hand over my hips. “I’ve thought about nothing but you for the last ten years,” he clarifies. “I’ve memorized every inch of you, Gabi.”
“Every inch?”
He nods, leaning down to press his lips to mine. “Every.” Kiss. “Single.” Kiss. “One.”
I cradle his head in my hands, staring into his eyes, feeling my heart ache and beat all at the same time for him. I love him so much. And he’sleaving.
His smile slips seeing my expression sadden, and he drops onto the bed with a sigh. “I’ll be back,” he says. It’s all he’s been saying for the past three days.
“I know,” I say with a nod.
“I hate seeing you upset,” he says, running a thumb over my cheek. “This is supposed to be a happy day. We can put on a Channing Tatum movie?” he suggests.
I let out a chuckle, loving that he’s embracing my movie crush, but I shake my head. “You know what would make this a happy day?”
He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence. My best friend grins, pulling me out of bed and throws his t-shirt over me, then slips on his sweatpants before guiding me towards the kitchen.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“Your eyes did,” he says with a smirk, wrapping his arms around my hips and lifting me into his arms before setting me on top of the counter. Standing between my legs, he looks up at me as I wrap my hands around his neck. “You want pancakes, don’t you, pretty girl?”
“Yeah,” I reply, feeling my throat tighten.I want you more.
He leans in, and presses his lips against mine. “Then I’m making you pancakes.” He steps out from between my legs, and grabs a bowl and a bunch of ingredients I didn’t even know I had, and starts mixing them together.
“I’m going to miss having pancakes,” I tell him with a sigh. “I’ve gotten so used to them while you’ve been here.”
He chuckles, meeting my eyes. “I’ll miss making them for you.”
“Then that means you should stay,” I say, tilting my head with a sweet smile that he smirks at.
“I wish I could,” he says, his smile slipping.
“But you have to go.” I nod, pressing my lips together, swallowing my emotions. “I know.”
To distract myself from welling tears, I straighten my posture and force a smile as I reach over, dipping my finger into the pancake mix.
“Hey, hands off,” Chris says with a laugh, moving the bowl away from me. “It’s raw.”
“Still delicious,” I say with a shrug.
His lips twist into a smile as he starts scooping the mixture onto the pan, and I sneak another lick of the batter.
“There’ll be no pancakes if you keep doing that,” he says with a chuckle. “Besides, you might get sick.”
“Then you’ll just have to stay here and take care of me,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. But Chris’s smile fades, and he places the cooked pancake on a plate before turning off the stove. He then walks over to me, his expression soft as he takes my face in his hands.
