Keith gave a deep laugh. “Okay, that didn’t come out quite right. Just trust me. Elly,” he said softly. “Trust me.”
Trust was not something that came easily to Elly, especially with men. But she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She felt the spongy, hearty texture of the pancake first. And then a second taste danced across her tongue, a thick syrup on her palate. It was sweet, tart, and familiar. It tasted like home, it tasted like childhood. Suddenly memories of her mother were surrounding her, consuming her. Her eyes quivered with tears. Elly opened her mouth. “Uhh … muhh gussshh. Huh did you get this?”
Keith gave her a handsome smile and walked over to her chair, a tiny mason jar in his hand. “Prissy Jane’s Peachtree Syrup” read the label, a bright-orange tree blossoming over the tiny words.
Elly swallowed her pancake and grabbed the bottle. “How did you …? Where did you …? When did you …? Oh my gosh. Keith?”
Keith timidly pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Remember that day last month when we took that walk in the snow? When you told me about your mother?”
Elly did remember. She had cried. A lot.
“You told me that she always served her pecan pancakes for the annual church social, topped with Prissy Jane’s Peachtree Syrup. You said that anytime you tasted it, you remembered that day with her.” He sat back down. “It took a while to track down. They stopped making it in nineteen ninety-one, and so I had to track down the original factory. They were sold to a restaurant supplier in nineteen ninety-five, and they had started selling a couple of crates of the syrup a year to novelty food emporiums. The owner of the restaurant supplier lives in Arizona, so….”
He didn’t have a chance to finish. Before she knew what she was doing, moving faster than she even knew was possible for a woman of her size, Elly flung her chair over, flew around the table, and pressed her lips against Keith’s, knocking his chair over. Together they flew backwards, Elly landing on top of him with a soft “ouch.” Neither of them cared. It was the first time their lips had touched and they clutched at each other with intensity. She was surprised that the kitchen table didn’t ignite with the flames with their passion. Keith, who was initially surprised and taken off-guard as his chair tipped, responded immediately, wrapping his large arms around her, totally engulfing her. His hands clutched her dirty hair and he squeezed her tighter and tighter into him. His mouth, her mouth, and the Peachtree syrup all mingled together, a taste of sweet rapture.
Elly had never felt more passion, and she had been married once to a really hot guy. That had been nothing compared to this. After about ten minutes of frantic and desperate kisses, they pulled away from each other, Elly’s mouth red and sore and smeared with syrup. Keith sat back on the floor and righted the chair. They stared at each other until both erupted in nervous laughter.
“Well, that was awesome!” he announced with an embarrassed grin. “Uh, wow.” He gestured to the table and Elly noticed his hands were shaking. “Shall we finish the pancakes before they get cold?”
Elly had practically floated back to her chair, where she savored each and every bite of her childhood. Righting his chair, Keith took a long sip of orange juice and then slammed the glass down hard on the table. “BEST VALENTINE’S DAY EVER!” he declared. And that had been their first kiss. The beginning of them. Keith had been worth waiting for, even if he moved slowly.
Back on the rooftop deck now, watching Keith take a long sip of wine, Elly sat back, satisfied, against the couch cushion. That first kiss had been amazing, and it had only gotten better since then. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she was so simply and perfectly content. Happy. Keith brought a glass over and sat down beside her, wrapping her head delicately in the crook his arm. They fit together just right. She had never met anyone quite like him in all her years. He was completely self-sufficient. He owned a successful business, he had a Subaru, he paid his bills, and he read the New York Times. She had never seen his home, but that was because he was always either at the deli or her place. He called her when he said he would, he meant what he said, and he knew how to fix something that was leaking. He liked almost everyone and was nice to waitresses. What she felt for him was so different than what she felt for Aaron. Loving Aaron had been like repeatedly singeing herself with fire—being with Keith was like stepping into a warm bath. She was Keith’s, and he was hers, and it lit up her heart in the most resplendent way. Elly snuggled in beside him and together they gazed at the bright stars, so content, even in silence. Keith leaned over and brushed his lips across hers, and Elly fell perfectly into him, so blissfully unaware that everything was about to change.
Chapter Four