“I will. Have a good night.” Mom’s smile is a knowing smile.
Elijah and I walk out of my home, hand in hand. At the curb is a white stretch limousine. “Oh my God,” I giddily squeal. “You got us a limousine? I’ve never been in one.”
He slides his hand around my waist, kisses my hair and proudly announces, “Only the best for my princess.”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. He really is making me feel like a princess; a beautiful, cherished, princess.
Once we’re in the car and the driver is en route to the destination—of which I’ve been kept annoyingly unaware—I cuddle into Elijah’s side. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” His arm is draped over my shoulder, and while I’m snuggling into his side, I play with his fingers. I try and make my question sound flippant, like I don’t care if he answers it. But I badly want to know.
“Do you want to know?” he asks. And leans down to give my temple a kiss.
I shrug casually, “If you wanna tell me, I suppose it’ll be cool to know.”
And just as I’m thinking I’m about to find out and I’ve fooled him, he chuckles at me. “Sure, I’ll tell you . . . when we get there.”
Damn it. That didn’t work. “Huh,” I huff in mock frustration.
“Ha, you thought you’d try and get information out of me by pretending you don’t really care if I tell you or not.”
Moving my right hand down to his thigh, I pinch his leg. “Not fair,” I protest. “You’re not supposed to know and if you do, you’re supposed to give me what I want.”
His head bows so his face is close to my ear. “I’ll definitely be giving you exactly what you want.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Not fair,” I mumble.
As we sit in the car heading toward—wherever—I feel a nervousness growing in my stomach. Happiness is bubbling away, and butterflies are flapping their tiny wings in my belly, while a fine sheen of perspiration coats the palms of my hands.
“In case I forget to tell you, I love you,” I say grabbing his hand and kissing his palm.
“I love you too.”
It takes almost half an hour to arrive at our destination. And when we pull up, I see the most beautiful little inn. It’s quaint and gorgeous. “Wow,” I say as I look up to the crisp white stucco on the outside of the inn.
The gardens are rich with gorgeous deep red, orange and yellow flowers popping through thick, cushy green grass. There’s a stone seat beneath the most breathtaking old willow tree.
“Wow,” I gasp. I clutch at my chest while Elijah talks to the limousine driver. He joins me quickly and the car pulls away, leaving us looking up at the most gorgeous, sleepy, little inn. “Belle me Inn,” I say as I read the perfect cursive writing above the door.
Elijah hugs me, and kisses my cheek. “Do you like it?” His voice has so much hope in it. Though I can tell, he’s also petrified I’m going to say no.
“I’m so in love with this place.”
“Do you know what belle âme means?” he asks as I continue to take in the picturesque views.
“I know belle means beautiful in Italian.”
“It does. And âme means soul.”
I smile like a damn fool in love. “Beautiful soul. I love it; it’s perfect.” Under the old willow tree, thick moss is growing. Weathered stepping stones are strategically placed in the lawn, forming a path to a stone bench. It gives the feel of old world, a place forgotten in time, though still preserved in its beauty.
“It’s so . . .” I breathe in deep, the aroma of freshly cut grass on a spring day fills every one of my senses. “It’s so gorgeous.”
“Let’s head inside.”
Elijah leads me into the foyer of the inn where an older lady awaits us. I sit on one of the small love seats as Elijah approaches her. The foyer décor is almost whimsical, a perfect blend of old world charm, mixed with fairy tale magic. The colors are warm and inviting, the furniture mismatched though strangely harmonious. Everything works. I wouldn’t change a thing in here. It’s simply breathtaking.
“Are you ready?” Elijah asks as he helps me up and guides me toward our room.
When he opens the door to our room, I can’t help but smile. The décor here is an extension of what I’ve seen so far. “Wow,” I whisper as I walk toward the large, four-poster bed.
“Wow,” Elijah echoes my words from behind me. I turn to look at him, and he kicks the door closed with his heel. His eyes land on mine.
“This is all for you, princess.”
Princess . . . that’s exactly how he’s making me feel. Right now, in this single second of time, I forget about my cancer. I push aside the fact that I’m dying, and I allow myself to feel like a princess.
Elijah drops our bags and stalks toward me. The primal look in his eyes is almost daunting, and so damn sexy. He laces his hands into my hair, and tilts my head back. His mouth comes down, his lips dance over my own, his breath hot on my skin. “I love you,” he says before allowing our mouths to make contact.
Grabbing onto his elbows, I pull him closer to me. I want him, I want this. I need this.
A primitive growl rumbles from deep inside his chest, the sound sends shock waves through my body. I love how much he wants me.
But too quickly, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. No! I want more. “I won’t break,” I say desperately trying to convince him to keep going.
I can feel his smile. “I’m not stopping because I’m scared I’m going to hurt you,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle.
“Then why did you stop?” I look into his steely gray, hungry eyes.
“Because I want this to be perfect for you.” My heart beats quicker, for Elijah.
“What do you have in mind?”
“How about a bath?”
My face flushes red, and suddenly I become quite shy. But, I know he’s going to see me naked at some point tonight. “I’d love one,” I say.
“Okay.”
He leads me over to the bed and sits me down on the edge, giving me a chaste kiss. “Wait here.” Elijah heads into the bathroom, and starts running the bath. I try to peek, but he sees that I am and closes the door nearly all the way. That’s my cue to stop trying to rush things, and allow him to lead. I fall back on the bed, and close my eyes. So far, this is perfect. This is why I know he’s my perfection, because I don’t believe anyone else would treat me like this.
The sound of the water running sends me into a relaxed state. Suddenly, Elijah seeing me naked doesn’t worry me anymore. My eyes spring open, and I have a new-found sense of determination.
I gather my strength to stand and undress completely. When he emerges from the bathroom, I want him to see me. Not the illness, not the fumbly, shy girl, but me.
Calling on all my courage and with my nerves almost shot with nervousness, I stand, bared to my soul in front of the bathroom. My heart beat increases when I hear the water stop. He’s going to open the door, and he’s going to see me for who I am.
A bead of sweat gathers at my hairline, and I feel it slowly roll down my spine. My hands shake and I almost want to cover myself so he doesn’t see me, but I stand tall and proud, pushing my self-doubt down as far as I can.
With nervous anticipation, I swallow when I hear his footsteps coming closer. Crap, what if he hates what he sees?
The door creaks open and I’m met with hooded gray eyes. His breath hitches the moment his gaze meets mine. Hard meets soft. Not once does he let his gaze roam down my body, not once does his expression change to anything but what it always is. Love.
I want to say something, anything to break the intense silence swirling around us. But I don’t know the right words. I can’t form them; there’s nothing in my mind. Please, say something.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
His eyes are ablaze, burning deep inside my soul.
He takes my hand, lifts it gently and kisses it. Then he leads me to
the bath, where there are candles burning and rose petals floating in the steaming water. “Oh my God,” I murmur, completely in love with my surroundings.
He lifts my hand, holding it tightly to help me into the bath. When he releases my hand, I want to protest because I love how he touches me. He’s always so careful.
Turning to look at him, I see him take his t-shirt off, exposing the rippling muscles around his stomach. My eyes burn into those ridges. I want to touch him, explore and worship the man he is.
He’s exquisite.
“Are you joining me?’ I ask, yet the minute the words leave my mouth I want to slap my forehead. What a dumb question.
“I couldn’t allow you to enjoy this bath on your own.”
Smiling, I keep my eyes on his body. His shoulders are strong and broad. His legs . . . delicious and muscled. When he slides his boxers off, I’m left with the sculpture of the perfect man. Unable to look away, I stare at all of him. Every inch is beautiful. His flawless skin is luscious.
He slides in behind me, the water softly lapping around my body. With his legs on either side of me, he pulls me back to lean against his chest.
With tender fingers he cups the water and drizzles it over my shoulders; it slowly runs down to my breast. His hands massage my shoulders, slowly moving lower to cup my breasts. A feral moan rips through me; I’m suddenly wanton. God, I love this. The feeling is unbelievable. I love every moment of what he’s doing to me.
Expertly he brings me to the brink, his hands everywhere. “Oh God,” I mumble unable to say more.
My eyes roll as my body reacts to this heavenly feeling. Elijah nips on my earlobe, his tongue darting out to lick the sensitive part of my neck. “More,” I beg. I feel his smile on my tingling skin.
He sprinkles wet kisses on my hyper-sensitive skin, his hands already at my core bringing me pleasure I never knew existed.
My heart beats furiously as I begin to shake with bliss. When my body calms, and my heart has returned to its steady pace, I relax completely, basking in Elijah’s strength.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Trust me, it was my pleasure.”
As we lie in the bath, enjoying each other, my heart becomes heavy. Tonight’s never going to happen again. Because I know my death is almost here now. And I’ll never feel this intense, soul-baring love again.
As we sit in the small, intimate restaurant, I peruse the menu. “I’m not sure what I want,” I say, scrunching my nose. Truthfully, I’m not hungry, but I’m going to try to eat something. “It’s all French to me.” I laugh at my silly attempt of humor.
“May I order for you?” Elijah asks.
“I’d love you to.” I place my menu down and watch as his gorgeous gray eyes roam over the menu. He then calls the waiter over and orders a few dishes. I don’t take note of anything he’s ordering. Instead, I stare at him. My heart grows even fuller with love.
When the waiter leaves, I take the small velvet pouch out of my pocket and place it on the table. Elijah’s eyes look down at the black fabric. “I got something for you,” I say.
His brows draw together, and the corner of his mouth tugs up in a slight smile. “For me?”
I nod my head but make no effort to slide it closer to him. He too, doesn’t reach over to take it. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again.
In the back of my throat a huge lump is forming. What if he thinks it’s lame, or worse still, what if he hates it?
It takes what seems like hours before he finally speaks. “What is it?”
I look around the tiny restaurant. There are another three couples here, not paying us any attention.
“My heart,” I reply when I find his face focused on the innocent package. I place a shaky hand over the material and slowly push it toward him. But I don’t lift my hand off it when it reaches the halfway point.
He places his big, protective hand over mine and squeezes. “I’m honored you chose to give your heart to me.”
I pull my hand away and leave the pouch for him to open. He doesn’t ask; he picks it up, opens it, and slides out the contents.
On a leather cord, there’s a key. He looks it over, his brows furrowed together. “It’s not your heart; it’s a key.”
From my other pocket, I take out another pouch containing a heart on a silver chain, and slide it over toward him. “The key fits into the heart.” He picks them both up, and joins them. “Together they’re perfect, separately the other seeks its mate. Alone they have their own meaning, but once they’re locked, they bring the universe and heaven together.”
Elijah toys with them, linking them, then breaking them apart. He slips his key around his neck, gets up, and comes to stand behind me where he fastens the chain with the heart around my throat. “Thank you.” He bends and kisses me.
When he sits back down, I reach for his hand. “In life and in death, remember . . . your key will always fit my heart.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I watch as his expression softens. He’s on the verge of crying. From the sadness in his eyes, he knows the end is almost here.
With perfect timing, the waiter brings our dinner over and places the plates on the table. There are three plates—a pasta dish for Elijah, a vegetable dish for me, and something I can’t identify in the middle. When the waiter leaves, I lean over the table and sniff toward the middle dish.
“What’s that?” I point.
Elijah tries to lighten the mood. His shoulders are drooping and his eyes are shining with tears. He exhales once, and gives me the most beautiful smile, making his already handsome face even more breathtaking. “Snails,” he says and winks.
Oh my God. He ordered snails. They’re something I wanted to try. He picks one up, pops it in his mouth and swallows it whole.
If he can do it, so can I.
I take one off the plate, bite into it and start chewing. But I can’t do it. The mere thought that I’m eating a snail is making me gag. “I can’t do it.” I spit it out in my napkin.
“It’s not that bad,” he says through a chuckle.
“All I can think about is a snail in my garden, and eating it. I just can’t do it.” A shiver rips up through my spine at the thought. “I can’t even tell you what it tasted like. Never again.” I gag again, dry retching. “Snail trails.”
“I think they’re alright.” He eats another and I screw my nose up when he eats a third, then a fourth.
“You’re so brushing your teeth before you kiss me,” I say with a grimace stretched tight across my face.
Elijah throws his head back and laughs. One of the other tables turns to look at all the commotion, a smile spreads on their face once they realize we’re having fun.
“Well, I can cross that off my list,” he finally says after his laughing subsides.
I lean my elbow on the table, balancing my chin in my hand. “You’re an amazing man, Elijah.” I watch him with so much love in my heart. “Promise me something.”
“What’s that?” He eats some of his pasta and pointedly looks at my untouched plate.
“Promise me you’ll find someone else to love.”
His hand holding the fork stills in midair, completely stunned by my request. Slowly he places the fork on the side of his plate and drags his eyes from his plate to my eyes. “I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you, Alice.”
“One day, I want you to be brave and find love again.”
He’s shaking his head. His hands are tightly fisted where they rest on the table. “I can’t. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find it once. And now that I have, I know no one will ever come close to what I feel for you. This . . .” He places his hand over his heart. “Beats only for you. And when I die, I’ll come to find you and we’ll be together again.”
“You won’t have to find me, Elijah. I’ll be waiting for you.” A tear escapes my eye and I make quick work of wiping it away. “Just remember, your key will always fit my heart.” I clutch at the pendant he
put on me. “My heart.”
“I’ll always love you.”
“I know,” I whisper. I know.
With dinner finished, Elijah silently takes me back to our room. When we get inside, he closes the door and comes to stand in front of me. The light in the room has been dimmed, soft music is playing, and the fragrance of a small, aromatic vanilla candle is drifting through the room.
Elijah stands in front of me, and with the gentlest of strokes skims his hand down my cheek. Paying close attention to me, he grips my sweater and slowly pulls it over my head. He loops it behind me, and uses it to pull me closer to him. His warm lips cover every exposed surface of my body.
My body enjoys his touch. My breath hitches while my stomach flip-flops with every one of his kisses.
Elijah leads me over to the bed, and we spend the rest of the night entwined together. Our souls connect, our bodies meld as one. Hearts beat quickly. Mouths make silent promises. Our night is spent making love.
When our bodies are exhausted, and our hearts have united, I lay in his arms. His skin is warm against mine. His soft snoring tickles my neck. A single tear trickles from my eye.
“Remember me like this,” I whisper in the smallest of voices while another tear rolls down my cheek.
It’s almost time to say goodbye.
It’s been just over a week since my overnight date with Elijah, and unfortunately, my body has decided to fall apart. While my body betrays me, I try to hide it. It’s getting harder and harder. Today is no exception. I’ve woken feeling flat, with no energy. My feet have been getting worse, the tingling increasing in both duration and frequency.
But, every day I hold onto hope. Not hope that I won’t die, because I know death will come for me soon. I hold onto hope that when I do die, I’ve left behind enough love to help those who are close to me get through each day.
Today though, it’s particularly difficult. “Good morning,” my Mom chirps when she comes into my room. She lifts the blinds to let the sun in, but it’s like even the sun can’t bring itself to be happy. It looks gloomy outside, just like how I’m feeling. But I push on. I can’t have them see me broken. Because that will mean I’ve let the cancer win, and I refuse to let it beat me.
Dying Wish Page 26