“I want the recipe,” Jayden yelled as we left.
We went down the steps to his car and got in. He started the engine and adjusted the heat, and we both buckled in.
I was afraid to ask, but I needed to know...
“Did I ruin it?” I asked, not wanting to look at his eyes. Not wanting to see his disappointment.
“Ruin it? Deacon, no. What did you think you ruined?”
“When they asked me about the adoption stall, I?—”
“No, no, Deacon, look at me.”
I did, for just a second, but had to look away.
“You were so great tonight,” he said. “Perfect, even. I’m so proud of you.”
“Proud...” I shook my head because that didn’t make sense.
“Absolutely. You did great.”
I swallowed hard. “I liked it. Everything was good until... I didn’t mean to get so... weird.”
He reached over and took my coat sleeve. “You weren’t weird. Tonight was fantastic.”
“You knew,” I said. “When you held my sleeve. When you smiled at me. You knew what to do. What I needed you to do.”
He smiled at me. “I needed that too.”
He what? He needed it? “You did?”
“Of course. Social gatherings are a lot. Even with the nicest people.”
I couldn’t begin to describe the relief I felt. “They are nice people. It wasn’t overwhelming like I thought it would be.”
“Did you have fun?”
I tried not to smiletoobig. “I did.”
Winter did a little happy dance in his seat. “I’m so happy. Look at us, being all social and stuff.”
I laughed at that. “I feel...” I tried to name it. Relieved. Happy. I was both of those things, but they weren’t the word I was after. “I uh... I’m proud of myself too.”
Winter looked at me and beamed.
I was disappointed when he pulled into my driveway. I didn’t want tonight, this feeling, to end.
He slowed to a stop out front and kept the engine running. I deduced that meant he wasn’t getting out. He turned to me, his face lit up by the dash. “I had a really greatnight,” he said. “It wouldn’t have been the same if you weren’t there with me.”
My throat was dry, my heart thumping. “I had a great night too. I’m glad I did this. I was nervous, but you made it all okay.”
He grinned, but then, taking a deep breath, he pulled his glove off his hand and laid it on the center console between us, palm up.
I knew what he wanted me to do.
So I took off my glove as well. My heart beat so hard it almost hurt, but I traced my fingertips across his palm, leaving them there for a second. His hand was warm and soft, and with a bravery I didn’t know I had, I slipped my fingers between his and held his hand. Our fingers laced, my palm to his.
For half a second before I had to let go.
