by Lynn Turner
He breathed against her smooth back for several moments, gently easing her tight hold on the poster, his heart pounding in his ears. “C’mere,” he murmured, turning her easily and lifting her to the bed.
He looked into her glistening eyes and kissed each one, then her nose, and finally, her lips. This time he moved with deliberate slowness, guiding himself into her with his hands planted beneath her hips. He focused every cell of his body on pleasing her. His eyes never left her face as she rocked against him, holding onto him for dear life, until her beautiful face twisted up and she bit her lip.
“That’s it, baby,” he said, his forehead breaking into a sweat. “Come for me, Emmi.”
She did. A long, soulful moan escaped her, her head falling to his shoulder until the tremors left her body. He held her even after she stilled against him, her warm breath moistening his skin.
“What was that?” she whispered, pulling away to look into his eyes.
“I don’t know. I think I let the reality of the situation get to me and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, gently tucking a curl behind her ear.
“I’m glad you did. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one dreading tomorrow.”
“You aren’t. Not by a long shot.”
He swooped her up and carried her to the bathroom. They showered and spent the next couple of hours happily in their underwear in the air conditioned room, ignoring whatever old movie played on a local cable channel in the background. They cuddled, groped each other, traded more dating horror stories and shared a hundred kisses before it was time to get dressed for their final evening out in the Crescent City.
****
The Creole Queen rose two hundred feet above the water, her forty-foot length hugging the Poydras Street Dock behind the Hilton Riverside Hotel. About two hundred passengers prepared to board the beautiful paddle wheeler, the band waving at them in greeting from the upper deck.
“You look so beautiful,” Finn said in Emanuela’s ear, guiding her up the ramp with a hand at her lower back. “People are staring.”
“Don’t tell me that!”
They presented their tickets, allowing the smiling hostess to show them to the upper deck.
“It’s true,” he said over her shoulder, continuing up another set of stairs.
She did look wonderful. Her hair was pulled into an intricate bun atop her head, drawing all focus to her beautiful face. Her skin glowed from exposure to the sun over the last few days, her white trapeze dress glorious against her skin.
The host almost tripped over himself to greet them, his eyes glued to Emanuela, before he showed them to their table.
****
“You look beautiful too,” Emanuela said when they were seated.
His salt and pepper waves were slicked back from his face. He wore a crisp, light blue shirt that drew attention to his eyes. It was buttoned down a bit, rolled at the sleeves in his distinctive way, and tucked into his light chino trousers.
“You’ll want to watch that,” he said. “Someone at this table seems to think I don’t behave myself in public.”
“You don’t.”
“Come over here.” He pulled her chair closer.
“Why don’t I just sit in your lap?”
“Woman, do not tempt me.”
She grinned, but heeded his warning this time, not trusting that he wouldn’t make a spectacle. They greeted the elderly out of town couple being seated at the table next to them as the river boat started to pull away from the dock. The twenty-four foot paddlewheel churned the water slowly, and the live band began to play.
They sipped sparkling champagne and signature cocktails, chatting cheek to cheek like they were the only two people on board. Servers came around with their grilled oyster salads just as the sun began to set, painting the evening sky in shades of pink, lavender and gold.
They fed each other bits of chili spiked soft shell crab and pecan smoked beef, whispering and giggling like teenagers. An elderly man at the next table kissed his wife’s hand and graciously led her past their table to the dance floor.
Finn looked at Emanuela suggestively, drawing another airy giggle from her. He pushed his chair back, standing in front of her to offer a dramatic flourish and extend his hand. “Madame.”
She laughed, shaking her head at his antics. “Mademoiselle, please.”
She took his hand and let him lead her to the floor. He hugged her to his chest, clasping her small hand in his. The band transitioned to the next song, the pianist striking up the intro to Louis Armstrong’s “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” like a soft berceuse. Finn and Emanuela swayed together, listening to the singer’s deep voice rasp the words.
Emanuela sighed, letting her head fall to Finn’s shoulder, turning her face into his neck. The clarinet and trumpet joined in the lilting lullaby, the tender lyrics wrapping around them and tying them together.
Finn released her hand and draped her arm over his shoulder so he could wrap both of his arms around her. They remained so entwined as the Creole Queen meandered her way along the Mississippi River and the New Orleans skyline slipped by beneath a canopy of stars.
****
“Emmi,” Finn said, hovering over her, waiting for her to open her eyes.
She did, smoothing her hands up his chest, clasping her fingers behind his head. “Don’t say it.”
“Emanuela.”
“Don’t. Not yet.” She lowered her eyes.
“You promised you wouldn’t do that.”
She dragged her gaze back to his and raised her hips.
He let it go, deciding instead to show her how he felt until she was ready to hear it. Their eyes never left each other again, and la petite mort claimed them.
He curved his body to hers and they drifted off to sleep.
“Finn?” she whispered in the dark.
“Hmmm?”
“Thank you.”
He kissed her shoulder. They spent the rest of the night on the same pillow, their bodies seeking each other even in sleep.
****
Their flights were scheduled to take off within thirty minutes of each other, so they rode to the airport together.
“Miss Monroe.” Morris pulled her aside, and Finn went to check their bags curbside to give them a moment.
“Morris?”
“I didn’t get a chance to give you this ‘til now. I knew I’d have to wait until time for you to leave or you wouldn’t take it.” He handed her an unmarked, legal sized envelope.
“Morris…” Emanuela was apprehensive, refusing to take the envelope. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
He ignored her. “I got some help with the math. That should be ’bout thirty percent of what you loaned me over the years.” He held his hand up at her protesting. “Now Miss Monroe, I do know a little something ’bout how these things go. This here is rightfully yours.”
She could see there was no point in further protest and Finn was waiting for her, so she took the envelope and, without thinking about it, pulled Morris into a hug.
“Take care, Miss Monroe.”
“You too, Morris.” She smiled at him one last time, then walked with Finn through the reflective double doors.
****
Her flight departed first, so Finn waited with her at her gate, holding her behind a column, away from the prying eyes of her fellow passengers so they could say their goodbyes.
“I’ll miss you,” he said.
“It’s just two weeks.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I will. I’ll miss you.”
She looked into his eyes, and he could see her discomfort at their very public display. She shook her head, rising to her toes to kiss him. It was brief, just a few seconds, but he knew how much the gesture meant coming from her, and hugged her close until it was time for her to board.
“I’ll see you in two weeks,” he said, kissing her cheek one more time.
“Two weeks.”
His chest tightened at her obvious reluctance to pull away. But she did, at the final boarding call. She disappeared through the terminal, and then he turned on his heel, a thousand beautiful new memories accompanying him to his own gate.
Chapter Sixteen
“Do you believe in God?”
Finn set his empty dinner plate aside and looked at Emanuela, rubbing his chin with his fingers. They talked each night around seven, Pacific. He was home by that time, affording him some privacy, and a chance to talk to her for more than a few minutes between meetings, during the rare lunch when she wasn’t working, or in the morning when he was still a zombie and she was sprinting out the door.
“First of all,” he said with a grin, “I’m digging the outfit. Very cute.”
She was tucked into bed at the late New York hour, peering at him on her laptop screen, which sat atop a dinner tray over her lap. She looked comfortable in her favorite faded Columbia T-shirt, her hair pulled into rollers with a silky scarf tied around her crown, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
“I like to impress,” she said. “Now answer the question.”
They’d been back on their respective coasts for a few days now, and they—mostly Emanuela—had quizzed each other at length. Their first night away from each other, Finn thought it was something fun she came up with to help distract them from how much they missed each other. When she continued the questions the next night though, his heart started beating faster at the idea that she was sizing him up as someone she saw herself being with long-term. The questions alternated between profound, philosophical, and even downright silly, but he took care to answer every single one honestly and thoughtfully.
He knew she wasn’t ready to hear how he felt about her out loud, and though he was pretty sure she was in love with him too, he wouldn’t push her. He tried to remember that her feelings for him and this entire situation overwhelmed her. This question about God was the first on this, the third night of the Emanuela Monroe Comprehensive Evaluation, and he couldn’t help but smile. If this was her way of seeing if he measured up, he would go along with it.
“Finn!”
“I do,” he said, confidently.
He watched her fine brows go up in surprise. “Really?”
“Really. As a scientist, everything I know is quantifiable. I can measure it. God is not something that can be measured. So, to me, it’s unscientific to say he doesn’t exist because there is no way to prove it.”
“But there’s no proof that he’s real, either.”
He could tell she wasn’t being combative, that she wanted to dig deeper, and he wanted her to. “Maybe it just comes down to what you feel. I think we have souls, and I feel that God exists in that part of me. It’s similar to the way I feel about you. I know what we have is something really special, even though we’ve known each other a short time. I can’t seem to explain it. Time doesn’t matter to me where you’re concerned.”
“Wow. I like that answer.”
“Why? Would you have felt differently if I’d said that I didn’t?”
“Maybe. I don’t know…I guess not. I mean, I know you’re a good person. I know that you’re grounded and you’re honest. We have the same ideas about what is moral and what isn’t. I guess I just wondered in case…” She floundered, blinking rapidly. “Because we both want children.”
“We do,” he said when it seemed like she was hesitant to keep going. “You were concerned about religious differences complicating matters if we wanted to raise children together.”
“I— Yes. Is that weird? Maybe this line of questioning is a bit much so soon.”
“No. I’m happy you want to ask me these questions. I’m already in—invested in you, Emmi,” he said, catching himself. “It would be a waste of our time if we weren’t considering a future together, given the distance. Besides, I’m happy you’ve been thinking about having my babies.”
She blanched. “Ugh, I’ve had enough of you.”
“God, I hope not. Emmi?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m older than you.”
“I know.”
“A lot older. Ten years.”
“What’s your point, Finn?” She removed her glasses and set them on her nightstand.
He understood her annoyance. Their age difference had never come up before, and she probably wondered what brought it on. He didn’t know how to put it delicately, so he just came out with it, hoping he didn’t freak her out. “If we had a baby tomorrow, I’d be sixty by the time Little Kane goes to college. And you’d be—”
“Fifty,” she said. “You’ll be sixty-four and I’ll be fifty-four when Little Kane graduates. Sixty-eight and fifty-eight by the time Little Kane can get a rental car. Am I missing anything?”
“Emmi—”
“I know there’s an age difference, Finn, but it’s not your age that matters, is it? I’m the one who needs to settle down soon if she wants to have kids before everything dries up.”
“Emanuela,” he said, gently. “I mentioned it because I want you to know, I’d love to have a family with you, but even if we both dry up, I’m happy just to have you.”
“Finn—I—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to feel the same way right now. I just wanted you to know.”
“It’s not that…”
“You promised,” he said. “If we’re gonna do this thing, you have to talk to me, Emmi. I’m about level intermediate when it comes to guessing.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I’ve told you about Greg.”
“You broke up with him when he proposed.”
She winced. “The thing is, I almost said yes.” She looked at him warily.
“It’s okay. Go on.”
She licked her lips. “Everything was perfect, you know? On paper. He was a good guy and he loved me. I wasn’t getting any younger, and I really wanted kids… It would’ve been so easy to say yes to him.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“At first, I blamed it on my fear of inheriting my mom’s mental illness. I was afraid of what it’d do to our kids…that I’d be a burden.” She fidgeted with her fingers.
“And then?”
“And then…I finally admitted that I didn’t love him. I was with Greg for two years and I didn’t feel the way I do with you. Thinking about kids then felt like pressure, and now— I can see it, and it’s a little scary.”
“Why?”
“I think I’d convinced myself that I was content with my life for the most part before I came to Seattle. Now it feels like I’m not sure about anything anymore. It’s hard for me…to feel that way.” She swallowed. “I like to feel in control. When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have control of myself—of anything, really.”
Finn exhaled on a long sigh. “It must’ve been hard for you to admit that.”
Emanuela looked away for a second, silently confirming his observation.
“Thank you, Emmi. I won’t take it for granted.”
“I know.” She smiled, visibly relieved.
“Is it my turn or is this some kind of quick fire round?” he said, quirking a brow.
Her lips twitched. “You can go now.”
“Thank you. Miss Monroe, where would you like your career to take you in coming years? You don’t strike me as a woman who’d be content as someone’s second in command indefinitely.”
“Well…believe it or not, I don’t want to be Philip when I grow up.”
This was a surprise to Finn. “No?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to work for him because he became so successful at such a young age. He seemed knowledgeable about so many things, and he was passionate about every bit of it. I figured someone like that would be a great teacher, and I was right. But my passion isn’t in acquisition.”
“You don’t feel the thrill of it all?”
She laughed. “Of course I do. It’s fun;
don’t get me wrong. And the money is good. That was a big draw too, obviously. Living here isn’t cheap. But I don’t see myself doing this forever.”
He smiled. He loved that she continued to surprise him. “What do you see yourself doing?”
“I really like to help people. I liked this job because it felt like I could give people with great ideas a chance to make it. Of course, it’s not just giving a handout. It’s a business, after all. But my big dream is to head a nonprofit organization.”
“Wow,” Finn said, a wide grin on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing. I don’t know why I’m even surprised. The way you helped Morris was amazing. I still can’t believe you were able to do it for as long as you did.” Pride sprang up in him. “What kind of nonprofit do you want to start?”
“I haven’t exactly figured that part out yet.” She bit her lip in thought. “I mean, I loved helping Morris. Helping struggling small businesses get back on their feet would be rewarding, but it’s still more of a business transaction than a charitable venture. I guess I haven’t found my niche yet.” Her brow creased with a small frown.
“That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll find it and you’ll be able to use what you’ve learned working with Philip to do some good in the world.”
“I hope so,” she said, wistfully.
He laughed.
“What?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Here I am, a pauper trying to make something of myself, and there you are, my beautiful Midas, trying to give everything away. I’m not sure this is gonna work out after all.”
“That’s too bad. I thought you might have something I could work with.” She shrugged and let go a dramatic sigh.
“Well, now I feel dirty.”
“I can work with dirty. But I’ll need some time to prepare.”
“How much time?”
“Maybe a week and a half?”
“Looking forward to it,” he said with a grin. “It’s quite possible you now know everything there is to know about me.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something else. Say goodnight to me. I have a long day tomorrow.”