Free Our Favorite Days (My Favorite Mistake #3) by Chelsea M. Cameron Page B

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    “We are. But at least we’re ridiculous together.” He took my right hand and kissed the back of it.
    “Forever,” he said.
    “Oh, that’s right. I’m going to be chained to your ass forever.” Hunter made an offended sound.
    “Um, I happen to know that you love my ass.” It was true. I did. To be fair, it was a fantastic ass.
    “Not as much as you love mine,” I sang and he sighed in defeat.
    “I hate that you’re right, but I don’t think I could love anything more than your ass.” I made a disgusted sound.
    “Pig.”
    “Hey, you were the one who brought up asses.” He pointed an accusatory finger at me and I grabbed and bit him lightly.
    “Ouch! If you’re that hungry, let’s stop somewhere.” Now that he said something, I was kind of hungry. It had been a few hours since lunch. I squealed with delight when I saw that the next exit had a Panera.
    “Oh, so you were serious about the food,” he said when I pulled off.
    “Uh, yeah. I’m always serious about food. Do you know me at all?” He chuckled and told me what he wanted.

 
     

     
    O n Sunday afternoon, Taylor and I decided to take a walk around our neighborhood.
    “It seems like a Sunday afternoon couple thing,” she said, seizing my hand and dragging me out the door.
    “Sure, Missy.” If she asked me to take a stroll on a trail of razor blades, I probably would have done it.
    “See? This nice,” she said, swinging our hands together as we walked. Her legs were shorter than mine so I pulled up my stride so I didn’t outpace her.
    “I wonder if Steve is home,” she said, glancing down the street toward Stephen King’s house. It was easy to see which one was his. Surrounding the red Victorian with cream trim was an impressive iron fence, with spider webs and gargoyles. Taylor liked to touch the fence as we walked by.
    “I’m hoping the magic will rub off on me,” she said. “I mean, you can’t feel too bad about going to a State school when Stephen King went to the same one and he seems to be doing okay.” She laughed.
    “True,” I agreed, distractedly. Talking with Taylor’s mother about the wedding yesterday had put it back on my mind. I didn’t want to bring it up again and upset Taylor, but we really needed to sit down and talk about it. Figure out a timeline that worked for both of us.
    I hated that we were on different pages when it came to timelines, but what could I do? I couldn’t force her to marry me.
    “Whatcha thinking about?” she asked, noticing my silence.
    “Your ass,” I said, giving her a lazy grin.
    She rolled her eyes.
    “So typical. Stupid boy. Why do I even bother with you?” We bantered back and forth, but I still had that voice in my head telling me we were headed toward something that was either going to make or break us.
    I just didn’t know which way things would go.
     

     
    O n Tuesday night I got another call from Hope.
    “Oh, hi, Hunter, I was just calling because I was making some pies for Harper’s school bake sale, and wanted to know if you all would like me to make a few for you?” Her voice was sweet as sugar, but I saw straight through her ruse.
    “Um, yeah, I don’t think anyone in this house would turn down pie,” I said, walking into the unoccupied kitchen.
    “Did someone say pie?!” Renee yelled out. “If that’s your aunt, tell her I want lemon meringue!” I heard Hope laugh in my ear.
    “Is that Renee? I’m guessing she wants lemon meringue?”
    “Yup. And probably a blackberry, a strawberry rhubarb and a coconut cream.” I didn’t feel bad asking for so many. She was going to make at least four or five whether we wanted them or not.
    “Okay, sounds good. How are you doing, honey?” My heart twisted when she talked to me like that. Her voice was so similar to my mom’s. Made sense, since they were sisters. Sometimes if I closed my eyes, I could imagine that it was her, talking to me again.
    “Fine, I’m doing fine. I ah, went to talk