I'd assured her that she could wait, but she'd vetoed that idea in two-seconds flat, telling me that she'd waited far too long already.
She was doing this for me.
She didn't say so, but I knew it in my bones.
It wasn't necessary, not after we'd talked, but it was so sweet, it made me love her even more. Plus, she looked happy. And there was no way I'd be harshing her buzznow, when both of us were drunk on newly confessed love.
As she shut the door behind us, she called out, "Honey, I'm home!"
I laughed. "Who's Honey?"
"Whoever's home." She grinned up at me. "If I'm lucky, I'll get both of them."
But nobody responded, not unless I counted the kittens, who scampered out from who-knows-where to see what was going on.
When Cash gave a playful yip, Ginger barreled toward him full steam ahead and pounced on his back, as if looking to ride him like a pint-sized cowboy with her trusty pony –orlike Gwen's mom with that fake reindeer at the department store.
Oh, yeah, I'd heard that story.Gwen had mentioned it on the way over here along with a few other incidents that were half-funny, half-tragic.
How Gwen had ended up so nice, I would never know.
I smiled. Nerdyandnice.
My kind of gal.
In the house, Gwen called out again, and whenstillnobody answered, she turned to me and said, "Hang on. I'm gonna go check the garage."
She returned a minute later with the news that both of her cousins' cars were gone. She looked disappointed but then perked up. "But you know what this means?"
"What?"
She smiled. "Make-up sex."
I grinned. "Oh, yeah?"
She laughed. "Totally. And if you don't want to, you'd better say sonowbefore I start pouncing.
I was still grinning. "Pounce away."
Instead of pouncing, she took me by the hand and led me toward the rear of the house, where her bedroom was located. But when we rounded the corner leading to the back hallway, she stopped short and pointed to a covered silver tray sitting just outside her bedroom door. "You know, I totally forgot about that."
The tray's cover was sitting lopsided, as if it had been kicked or jostled – or more likely, pounced on by a pack of kittens.
Gwen let go of my hand and moved toward the tray on her own. "I noticed this on the way out," she said. "But I didn't stop to check."
This was no surprise considering how quickly she'd made it to my house – on foot, no less.
Was she terrific or what?
As I watched, she crouched down and lifted the lid from the tray. On the tray itself, I saw an upturned coffee cup and a small dish of Christmas cookies soaked in dark liquid – hot chocolate from the looks of it. The liquid had pooled over the sides of the cookie plate and covered the entire bottom of the tray.
But when Gwen looked in my direction, she was smiling from ear to ear. "Isn't that so sweet?"
I didn't know what "it" was, but I knew that the girl in front of me was sweeter than anything I saw on that platter.
The tray also contained a small folded note, soaked in hot chocolate. Gwen reached for the paper and gave it a little shake above the tray to dislodge the excess liquid.
She stood, unfolded the note, and gave it a quick read. In a soft voice, she said, "Awwwww."
