Free Emerson's Fury : L.B. Pavlov by L. B. Pavlov Page A

restaurant; my family went there a couple of times a year. It was my favorite restaurant, and I hoped he liked it too. We looked over the menu, and I told him all the things that I had ordered in the past and how good the food was. We both ordered, and I handed him his gift.
    He smiled at me. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything. Dinner is already too much,” he said anxiously.
    “Open it,” I insisted excitedly.
    When he opened the box, he stared in disbelief. It was almost too long of a pause, and it made me nervous.
    “I can’t believe you did this. How did you get the patches? This is incredible. I am at a loss, honestly,” he said quietly.
    “But you like it?” I asked nervously.
    He looked up from the box, and his eyes were definitely watery, no question about it. “I have never received a gift like this in my life, Emerson. I don’t know what to say. I love it. I can’t believe you did this.” He was clearly beside himself. I could tell that Cross was not used to receiving gifts, and that made me sad. I wondered what his birthdays were like before we were together. I wondered if his mother was ever there for his birthdays. I wondered if he had birthday parties as a little boy. But I couldn’t ask. He seemed very emotional about the gift, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
    “I’m so happy that you like it,” I said instead, grasping his hand.
    “It’s overwhelming. You really put thought into this. It means a lot to me,” he replied, his eyes wet and intense.
    “I love you, Cross. With all my heart, I love you,” I said, and as the words came out, I was a little embarrassed that I said it first.
    “I love you. I have since the first time I met you,” he said, and I was overcome with emotion (one of them relief that he felt the same way). I just started crying for no reason at all. I was not normally the kind of girl who fell apart like that; it was so wimpy of me. But I couldn’t stop.
    “Those are happy tears, right?” he asked nervously, and I started to laugh.
    “Very happy tears,” I said, staring into those deep-blue eyes.
    “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I didn’t know if I should,” he confessed.
    “Why?” I asked, completely confused.
    “Because I think you can do better than me. I don’t want to be selfish,” he said, and by the intensity in his eyes, I could tell that he meant it.
    “I could never do better than you,” I breathily replied. “You are an incredible person, and I am lucky to call you my boyfriend,” I said contentedly, and he smiled.
    Our food came, and for a while, we were both engrossed in our steaks. He couldn’t get over how good it was, and I loved watching him enjoy himself. After we both slowed down, he went on and on about the letterman coat and the gift and cake from my parents.
    “Your parents are pretty amazing,” he said, continuing to devour his steak as we talked.
    “They really are,” I agreed proudly.
    “Did they meet in college?” he asked.
    I filled him in that my parents had known each other most of their lives and fell in love in high school. They really did have an incredible love story, and he enjoyed hearing about it.
    “My mom means everything to my dad. He almost lost her once, and it has haunted him for years,” I said, and I was surprised that I had just shared that, because I had never told anyone about my dad’s nightmares.
    “What do you mean? What happened?” he inquired sincerely.
    “Well, I don’t know all the details. But every year around Indy’s birthday, my dad has nightmares. Sometimes he has one, and other times it goes on for several nights. He yells out in his sleep, and it’s as if he is reliving something awful. My mom always tells us to go back to sleep, and she calms him down. But it’s sad to see how upset he gets. It used to scare me when I was young, but now I know that come mid-May, it has a good chance of happening. And then it just stops for the rest of the year,