Page 96 of Let's Be Forever

“Yeah, I trust your judgment, and I have a feeling we’ll pick the same one. If we don’t, we’ll flip a?—”

I’m embracing her before she finishes her sentence. “I missed you in ways I never knew was possible. I can’t believe I ever let you go.”

Anna wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I know you think you shouldn’t talk about the things that bother you, that upset you, that make you angry, but you should. Whenever you’re ready, I’m going to be here. It could be about anything, and I’d want to hear about it. Especially about your parents. You can talk about them with me.”

I hold her tighter. “I promise you don’t want to hear about them. You’ve dealt with enough. You don’t want to?—”

She draws back, cupping my jaw with both her hands. “It’s not your fault they’re your parents, but they’re going to be as long as they exist. There’s nothing you can do about it, and I knew that when I decided to give you another chance. If you want to talk about them, then I will listen. I will be here for you, like you are for me because that’s what people do in relationships.”

Before this very moment, if anyone had asked about my parents, I’d give them whatever answer Thea and me were trained to give. And sometimes when I couldn’t fake it enough, I wouldn’t say anything at all.

Lying or keeping quiet has always been easier. How could it not? My sister and I were constantly reminded of how easily everything could be taken away.

But now talking to Anna, I realize that I’ve been trained for so long to act and say certain things that I don’t have to keep quiet. I didn’t sign an NDA or anything that would prevent me from talking about them. My father isn’t the only one who needs the reminder that I’m not someone he can push around anymore.

The realization is both jarring and freeing.

“You hear me?” She rubs the pad of her thumb on my cheekbone. “I’m here. You don’t have to betheSylas Lenoir Alves with me. You’re just Sylas or Sy. Okay? And ‘babe’ on the days you get on my nerves.”

“I hear you.” I drop my forehead to hers, chuckling. “You and Rosie are the best things to ever happen to me.”

She presses her lips to mine, murmuring, “It’s all going to be okay.”

And I believe it.

I kiss her once before I pull back and pick up my spoon. “So, what are the flavors?”

She sounds so animated as she describes each cake. It reminds me of the first time she told me about her business at Strangers. We may have been buzzed, but the way she looked then is how she looks now.

“And this one is a pistachio cake with milk chocolate ganache, and crushed pistachio Swiss meringue buttercream.”

“I swear you never stop amazing me,” I tell her, and sweep my gaze over the bakery. I’ve never been more enamored by someone. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her cheeks grow pink, and a sheepish smile curls on her face. She gets awkward over compliments—I remember from when we started dating. She’d get really shy and doesn’t accept themas if whatever she’s doing isn’t something worth praising or celebrating.

“Thanks.” She scoops a spoonful of the pistachio cake but doesn’t bring it to her mouth. “Rosie was a good inspiration. I almost didn’t go through with this. Having to pay your parents back and?—”

“I’m sorry.” I know why, and I hate that my parents are the reason for it.

She shrugs, unperturbed. “Please stop apologizing. It’s not your fault. It never was. I think we should start looking at the positives and stop focusing on the past.”

I lay my palm on her thigh, rubbing it. “Yeah, we should, shouldn’t we?”

She smiles and nods. “Rosie.” She stuffs the spoon in her mouth, and I hold a finger up.

“The best positive.” I grin, grabbing a spoonful of the cake.

She hums, chews, and swallows. “The bakery.”

I hold two fingers as I bring the spoon to my mouth. I moan immediately, savoring the nutty and rich taste. “Jesus, baby.”

“And that’s just the first one.” Anna beams.

I take a sip of my water, ready to eat some more. “Today’s game was the best I’ve played in a while.”

She holds up three fingers, and pride radiates off her. “Rosie’s four-leaf clover.”

“Rosie’s four-leaf clover,” I echo, patting my wallet in my pocket.