Wish Me Tomorrow

by Karen Rock

  “Usually, you surprise the heck out of me—so not very well.” He picked up a spoon dropped by a man at a nearby table and passed it back. “But I never stop trying.”

  He earned a double eyebrow lift for that.

  “And why not?”

  “Can’t.” He lifted his glass and sipped. “You’re all I think about.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her gaze, the pink he adored rising from her neck and flooding her cheeks. If he could spend a lifetime making her do that, he’d die a happy man.

  “Do you ever think about me?”

  “I—”

  A tall glass filled with ice cubes and brown, frothy liquid appeared before Christie, cutting off her answer. He kept his disappointment in check and nodded politely at the waiter after he’d tasted the small amount of wine he’d poured.

  “It’s great. Thank you.” Hurry along, buster.

  “And you, ma’am?” Was it his imagination, or did their waiter seem to be lingering longer than was necessary over Christie? He straightened her fork and knife—not needed—brushed a piece of nonexistent lint with his table comb—again, unnecessary—and lifted the second wineglass. “Would you like to try the Sassicaia? It’s an excellent vintage.”

  “Not yet. Maybe with dinner.”

  The server leaned over and straightened her napkin, laying it once more against her lap. “Trust me when I say that—”

  “She said, she’ll wait,” Eli growled. Paws off. Suddenly he was glad Christie had led a solitary life before him. She wouldn’t have stayed single had she been on the market—and he intended to make sure she stayed off it.

  “Very good,” huffed the waiter, his formality back in place. “Are you ready to order?”

  Christie’s hair slid across her creamy shoulders when she shook her head.

  “I’m more than happy to tell you the specials, then.” The waiter beamed.

  Eli held on to his patience while the guy went into his spiel. Then, after a short conference with Christie, he ordered for them both. “We’ll start with the Prosciutto de Parma and two spinach, mushroom and bacon salads followed by Pappardelle alla Bolognese and Tagliatelle con Funghi. We’ll decide on dessert over coffee. Thank you.”

  He snapped his menu closed, scooped up Christie’s and passed them to the waiter, who tucked them under his arm, still scribbling on a pad as he bustled away.

  “It all sounds delicious.” She nodded, making her small gold hoop earrings swing.

  “I hope you like it.” The background restaurant noise of clanging crystal, scraping silverware and exotic accents competed with the soft jazz tune infusing the room. He inhaled the permeating aroma of sweet, fresh basil and leaned back in his chair, his heart full of her and this moment.

  “You wouldn’t steer me wrong. I have faith in you.”

  Her words crumbled the last bulwark he’d built around his heart. He leaned forward and felt the round glass table topper press into his suit coat. “And us? Do you believe in us, too?”

  She sipped her water, the expression in her eyes so distant he couldn’t read it. His heart pounded in his ears. He wasn’t a praying man—or a wishing one—but he hoped she was about to say what he needed to hear.

  After an impossibly long moment, she lowered her glass and said, “Yes. Very much, Eli.”

  He closed his eyes, squeezing his lids tight against the rush of joy flooding behind them. Men didn’t cry. But it’d been a roller-coaster day. Once again, Christie had proved him wrong about his emotions...as she had about so many things. It was one of the million things he’d grown to love about her.

  His hand tightened on his wineglass. Love. It was a big word. Funny that he’d never known, until this instant, how deep his feelings for her ran. The forever kind. But he’d wait to tell her. It was too soon and they had plenty of time. Christie had taught him to trust in that. No reason to push it.

  Christie raised her glass. “To John, who inspired us to cherish every day, as well as each other.” Her smile trembled.

  They clinked glasses. When his eyes met hers, her lashes were wet and spiky, the water at the corners mirroring his.

  “When I got home from the wake, Becca surprised me with something.”

  A deafening crash sounded from the kitchen, drowning out his last words.

  Christie leaned forward. “What?”

  After he repeated himself, Christie gave him a thoughtful look and said, “Children express their grief in lots of ways. Sometimes not the best ways...but with patience—”

  “No. Nothing like that.” He waved a hand to stop her. “It was a collage of pictures she put on my desktop. She’d snapped shots of John and me at the party.”

  “Eli. That’s beautiful.” Christie’s eyes widened. “Becca’s inherited your talent.”

  “Let’s just hope she doesn’t waste it like I did.”

  She gently nudged his foot under the table. “Oh, so you’re too old to go after your dream, to have a gallery show?”

  His eyes wandered to the enormous close-up of a laughing man on the wall opposite them. “No...actually the calendar shoot has me thinking about it...that I’d like to go on a trip, take pictures of the countryside the way I used to.”

  Christie took another sip of her beverage then pushed it away. “Where?”

  “I’m thinking a summer trip to Yosemite. Would you come with us?” He was pushing his luck and he knew it. But he wasn’t wasting another second with this woman. Not after the week he’d had.

  Her hand fluttered to her heart. “I have a lot of time saved at work.” She bit her lip. “So I guess they owe me, don’t they?”

  Her smile unfurled, easing the tightness in his chest.

  “Then it’s a plan.”

  Her grin matched his. “A great one.”

  He raised his wineglass. “To our future.”

  When they set down their drinks, the waiter returned with their salads.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  Eli stared at Christie, barely hearing the guy. Who could concentrate on something as ordinary as food when something much bigger was happening between them?

  “Just let me know if you need anything,” the waiter murmured, backing away fast.

  “He must think we’re nuts.” Christie picked up her fork and speared a spinach leaf. She returned his smile with a cheeky grin.

  “And he’d be right about that,” Eli said after chewing a melon ball. It slid down his throat, as tasteless as a stone.

  He put his fork on the edge of his plate and stroked her left ring finger. Now that he’d decided to pursue her, that finger wouldn’t be empty for long. He knew he wanted to spend all his time with her, to convince her that suffering was in her rearview mirror and happiness paved the road ahead. She’d made a believer out of him, and for that he owed her the world. Hopefully she’d let him give it to her.

  “Is something wrong with the food?” She speared a piece of prosciutto-wrapped melon and sniffed it.

  “No. I think I lost my appetite.” And he had. What he wanted was Christie, an intense awareness of her blocking out all other senses. He smelled the rosewater of her shampoo, felt the softness of her skin, caught every soft, lilting word despite the noisy crowd and had eyes only for her mobile, arresting face. He’d never grow tired of looking at the kaleidoscope of emotions that danced across it.

  She put down her fork. “Me, too.”

  “I wish we were alone. Not with all of these people around.”

  At her nod, his hand rose in the air, fingers snapping.

  “Yes?” The waiter sounded slightly out of breath.

  “Something’s come up. We’ll be taking our meals to go. Oh, and add two pieces of your chocolate cake, as well.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll meet you at
the front.” The double doors to the kitchen swished behind him as Eli and Christie pushed to their feet, their eyes clinging.

  Eli ignored the burst of pain in his knee as he shook out his leg. The waiter was right, he thought, holding Christie’s hand as they pressed to the front of the crowded restaurant, this was very, very good.

  * * *

  “WOW. YOU’VE GOT to try this.”

  They were sitting cross-legged on the faded Persian rug in Christie’s apartment, facing each other, a picnic of sorts between them. Candles flickered, transforming her loft from shabby to romantic. She sent Laura a silent thank-you for leaving the candles and matches out before she’d gone to a school function.

  She waved a thick forkful of the Bolognese at Eli until he gave in with a husky laugh and opened wide.

  “Good, isn’t it?” she asked when he closed his eyes, pleasure softening the hard planes of his face. Silvery moonlight poured through the windows and outlined the curves of his mouth, the shape of his cheekbones, the shadow of his lashes, the arch of his throat. She loved it when he looked so relaxed, so at ease—the warrior at peace. In fact, what didn’t she love about him? The unbidden thought caught her off guard, freezing her next bite in midair.

  Suddenly she didn’t know where to look. Not at the expectant blue eyes facing her. He was good at guessing her thoughts. Would he figure out her secret?

  She dropped her fork and hurried to the kitchen. As she passed the front door, a sleepy-eyed Angel lifted her muzzle from her dog bed while Sweet Pea dozed.

  “Everything okay?” he called.

  “Fine,” she squeaked. Her hands gripped the cool stainless steel of the sink edge. Love? When exactly had she fallen for Eli? She searched for a recent memory but couldn’t stop until she’d gone as far back as the night he’d brought John to the meeting, how he’d shaken out his friend’s coat so carefully, the thoughtful way he’d brought everyone treats and drinks. Had she been falling for him even then?

  “Need some help in there?”

  She almost laughed at that. Help? Yes, but not the kind he thought. Her feelings were deeper than she’d imagined, maybe deeper than she could handle. But they were there, ready or not, and she couldn’t deny them. At the very least, she’d keep them to herself. For now. Wait to see how Eli felt. They’d just taken their relationship to the next level. Saying “I love you” would catapult them into the next galaxy. A jump to light speed might leave one of them behind.

  Strong arms encircled her from behind. She breathed in the lemongrass and musky smell of him, her heart thumping.

  “You’ve been gone too long,” he breathed in her ear.

  She felt as if electricity coursed from her sensitive lobe and sizzled through her body. Her lungs trapped her breath and took it hostage. Was there anything more amazing than being held by the man you loved?

  She turned and put her arms around his neck. In an instant, his breath quickened, his blue eyes searing hers before he crushed her against him.

  “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” His voice was low, throaty. “Remember what you said earlier, about feeling like a monster?”

  She nodded, burying her face in the firm planes of his chest. Why would he bring that up when things felt so romantic?

  He tipped her chin and held her gaze. “Please don’t say that again. Don’t even think it. You’re imperfect. Flawed, a little scarred, but stronger now in a way that makes you the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Inside and out. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  It was the most incredible thing anyone had ever said to her. Did she deserve it? An image of Bill came to mind. She could almost picture him giving her a thumbs-up.

  Before she had another moment to think, he captured her lips with a kiss so intense it was bruising. Her thundering blood deafened her and her shallow breathing rolled out like a low tide. He tasted like salt and fire as his mouth slanted across hers. She buried her hands in his thick hair, drawing him closer still.

  His mouth left hers and traveled along her cheekbone. She could feel the erratic beat of his heart against her chest. His arms held her tight, as if he never meant to let her go. She rained kisses on his neck, his jaw and finally on his lips.

  Suddenly, an aching tenderness replaced their earlier frenzy. They needed to explore, to know each other. When he returned her kiss, his hand stole into her hair and wound her tresses with his fingers. Their kisses deepened slowly, softly, the intensity growing between them once more...a single match that had ignited a blaze.

  She knew he was strong, but it still surprised her how easily he carried her to the living-room settee and laid her down gently on the scattered pillows. His body slid over hers in one smooth gesture. She inhaled his breath as their mouths moved against each other, every kiss drawn out now, lingering, exploring. Her hands drifted over his back then rose to his shoulders and the muscles of his arms.

  At last, he drew himself up on his elbows. Now he was looking down at her, and his expression had changed in the flickering light, his blue eyes darkened to indigo. The rawness of his open, vulnerable expression undid her.

  Warmth overflowed her heart, filling up the cracks and wounds she’d held inside. She sighed and buried her hands in the thick strands at the nape of his neck. How had this miracle happened? It seemed beyond imagining, beyond wishing. Yet here she was, with him, the only person who’d made her feel complete. Whole. As if she deserved this moment with him.

  “Christie,” he murmured in a voice that was both rough and soft, his eyes blazing. His fingers shook as they trailed down her cheek to her lips, outlining the shape of her mouth. “I never thought...imagined...it would be like this. So incredible. It’s... You’re... This is perfect. Everything I ever wanted. Wished for.”

  “Me, too.” She matched her hand to his, loving the way his fingers curled over the tops of hers. “I’ll never forget this moment.” And she wouldn’t. As long as she lived.

  He bent down, his lips brushing her cheek lightly, and still that light touch sent shivers through her body, making her tremble. His mouth swept across the hollow of her temple then traced her cheekbone.

  She pulled him down and lost herself against his mouth. He kissed her gently, carefully, but she didn’t want gentleness, not when they’d waited this long, and she knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. A low groan sounded in his throat, then his arms circled her once more, gathering her against him, and they rolled over on the settee, tangled together, still kissing. There were cloth-covered buttons digging into Christie’s back but she didn’t care. All that existed was Eli; all she wanted, breathed, felt, hoped and saw was Eli. Nothing else mattered.

  A cuckoo emerged from a clock, squawked and retreated—another of Laura’s aunt’s hand-me-down decorations. Eli sat up with a groan. “I have to leave. Promised Mary I’d be home by midnight.” The gloom turned him into the romantic, shadowy prince of every girl’s fairy tale. Yet they’d each been the hero in their love story. Had rescued each other.

  She smoothed back a strand that had fallen in his eyes. “So, Prince Charming’s about to turn into a pumpkin?”

  “You won’t get rid of me that easily.” He bent down and gave her a leisurely kiss full of promise. “I’m going to be around for a long time.”

  “Eli,” she whispered, her heart aching with the truth of it. The future loomed ahead, as bright as the eyes shining down at her.

  He pulled her to her feet then against him once more...so close that her feet trod on his. His arm wrapped around her waist and he waltzed her toward the door, humming something low and sweet. When she pressed her ear to his chest, his heart beat with a steady, reassuring thud.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.” She turned and unbolted the door. He nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Shoo, mister. I can’t focus.”
And it was true—her fingers fumbled on the third lock and slipped on the chain.

  “Can’t,” he groaned when the door swung open at last.

  “At least we have our jog tomorrow.” She twirled around, rose on her tiptoes and planted a swift kiss on his square chin, loving the rough feel of his regrowth.

  His eyes lit up. “We have more than that.” He captured her lips in a last, lingering kiss then stepped out into the hall. “We have forever.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “RIGHT THIS WAY, Mr. Roberts.” Four weeks later, a nurse in tan scrubs ushered Eli into a spacious office smelling of wood polish and leather. His dress shoes echoed across tiles striped by midafternoon sunlight slanting through the blinds. “Please have a seat and Doctor Cruz will be with you shortly.”

  Eli sat before a cluttered desk and glanced at bookshelves overflowing with medical tomes. He tugged at his tie, wishing he hadn’t had to dress up in the heat. “If she’s busy, I’m happy just to drop this off.” He held up a large manila envelope. “I thought, as head of Oncology, she’d like a copy of the pediatric-patients calendar.”

  The nurse’s tight smile softened as she spoke through the crack of the shutting door. “She’ll appreciate that and wants to chat if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “Of course.”

  His shoulders relaxed against the warm seat. After his three-o’clock business meeting he’d surprise Christie at work and give her a copy, as well. It had been a month-long endeavor, and he was proud of how they’d all pulled together. He’d already mailed a copy, along with Becca’s research paper, to her health teacher. Mission accomplished.

  He slid out the calendar. Even better, with his distribution connections, they’d raise a lot of money for cancer charities. Time to celebrate over dinner, family-style.

  He smiled.

  His new normal.

  How had a month passed so quickly? He recalled his first date with Christie, the impromptu picnic on her apartment floor, the tender moments that had rocked his world. It’d been the best night of his life.