by Edie Ramer
Relief shuddered through her. But instead of assuaging her grief, it intensified. As if he’d given her permission to mourn. Hunching her shoulders, she rocked back and forth to keep from crying.
“Katie?”
“I’m here.” Her voice came out high and wobbly. “I have a better idea. I’ll drive to Chicago.”
There was silence on the other end. Then he said one word. “Come.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chicago was bright and shiny, and Chicago was dingy and dirty. Katie saw cars and buildings and stop signs and stop lights and traffic. Most of all there were roads. Highways, side roads, alleys, toll roads, expressways. She drove on a side street now, gripping the steering wheel and breathing shallowly, driving slowly to read the street signs. Something the man behind her didn’t like, apparently, as he squealed past her dad’s car.
Oh God, there was the sign for Gabe’s street. She felt like a used dishcloth, but she turned the wheel and kept driving, looking anxiously at the addresses of the brick apartment buildings that lined the street. Toward the end of the block she saw a man standing on the sidewalk, looking her way. Was it—?
Yes! Her tight muscles relaxed, the tension seeping out. It was an effort to keep her spine straight as she searched for a parking spot. There weren’t any, and she parked in front of a fire hydrant in front of the next building. Let Chicago fine her. Right now she didn’t care.
In the rear view mirror, she saw Gabe stride away from the apartment building, a red brick rectangle that looked like an institutional building, not a place where people lived.
She opened the car door then hung onto it after she stepped out. Her legs were trembling. Her whole body trembled.
“Hey.” Gabe held out his arms. “You made it.”
She couldn’t smile. Instead she fell into his open arms, closed her eyes and breathed him in. Being in his arms, feeling cherished, made the six-hour drive worthwhile. Even getting lost inside the city was worth it. Even though she’d called him three different times to guide her because monkeys had a better sense of direction than she did.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“It will go away.” She pushed back just far enough to look at him—his smiling blue eyes, his sweet, full lips, his nose that wasn’t perfect and his wavy hair.
She reached up and curved her hand on his hair. “I’m with my angel now.”
His grin widened, dimples creasing his cheeks. “If you knew my thoughts, you’d call me a very naughty angel. Let’s park your car in the garage then get your stuff and go inside.”
“There’s a garage?” She allowed him to tug her back to the car.
“There’s one space. Okay if I drive?”
“If I had to drive again today, I might want to shoot myself.”
He headed toward the driver’s seat while she hurried to the passenger side. Once inside, she asked, “You took your SUV out of the garage for me?”
“Don’t worry, I expect to be compensated.”
She smiled, not ready to laugh yet. “I brought apple pie.”
“It’s not pie I had in mind. Something more tasty.” He turned the key and the engine purred.
Ten minutes later they stood in an apartment with furniture in shades of turquoise and fuchsia. On the wall were framed photos of different flowers. From where she stood, she could see the small kitchen.
“This isn’t yours,” she said.
“A friend is shooting a film in Canada, and she let me stay here. You don’t like the colors?”
“I do. Just not on such a grand scale.”
“It kind of hurts my eyes,” he said. “But then I look at you and I’m healed.”
She melted inside. Still sore at heart, still tired, but when she looked at him, it felt like the wrong tilt in the world had righted itself.
“Hungry?” he asked. “I have pizza. Do you remember Chicago pizza?”
“I remember being hungry often.” She spoke slowly, the memories coming back in small pieces instead of the whole picture. She remembered being left alone and scared a lot, too, but didn’t say it. Since she’d lived with her dad, she’d had a wonderful life. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself.
He caressed the back of her head, his hand sliding over her hair. “I wish I lived somewhere else so you wouldn’t have to relive the bad times.”
She wanted to tell him that she was fine, but a wave of tiredness crashed down on her, and she closed her eyes and swayed. He gripped her arm, and her eyes snapped open.
“You need to lie down.” His voice roughened with worry. “Alone. At least for now.”
She couldn’t even pretend to smile. The grief had hit her again. Hard. Happy had four legs and a tail, but that didn’t mean Katie didn’t mourn her. It didn’t mean Happy deserved less than a person. After all, how many people loved as well and as unconditionally as a dog?
Gabe guided her to a decent-sized bedroom with a turquoise and purple bedspread that she imagined made Gabe laugh when another guy would toss it on a chair, too feminine for him.
Right now it looked good to her. She kicked off her shoes then crawled beneath the cover. As she dropped her head on the pillow, it came to her that she could sleep now because she felt safe with Gabe. The man who could do no wrong.
He adjusted the cover around her neck. “While you’re here, you could see your mother. It might be good for you.”
Her eyes closed tight, she turned her head away from him.
He could do wrong after all.
Chapter Forty
When she woke up the fading sunlight cast a golden glow on the turquoise and purple color scheme, and it felt like a world out of a fairy tale. Especially with Gabe smiling at her with warmth that heated her inside and out. He made her feel treasured.
She wasn’t ready to go out and face reality and was glad when he ordered pizza. In twenty minutes the pizza was delivered, and they ate at the small dining room table. It only took one bite for Katie to agree that Chicago pizza was superior to Fabrini’s. The red wine went down easily, but she limited herself to one glass.
“Ready for pie?” He gathered the plates, refusing her help, as if he knew she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. It was a great ride, but clouds were fragile. Unstable. Any moment she could fall off.
Right now, though, she wanted to enjoy the cloud.
But more than the cloud, she wanted to enjoy Gabe.
“I didn’t come here for pie,” she said. “I can have a piece later.”
“Later?” His eyes sparked as if inside him a small fire burned.
She stood, and it was another part of the dream. A fantasy that was coming true.
She hoped not. She wanted the real thing.
“If you want your pie first...” She trailed off as he stepped toward her.
His kiss was light at first. Tender. And for no reason, the tears started to fall even as she melted against him. Because she was melting inside, too.
“You’re crying.” His voice husky, he pulled away and wiped a tear from her cheek with his index finger, then put it in his mouth and licked it. “We’ll do this another time.”
“Now.” She took his hand and pulled it to her. “We’ll do it now.” She put his index finger in her mouth and watched him as she sucked on his fingertip. Watched as the flame in his eyes burned brighter. Watched as he pulled his finger from her mouth. Watched as he put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom they undressed quickly. Knowing the drill. Clothes off. Loving on.
He kissed her, this time not gentle. Hard and fast before he put his arm around her and started toward the bed. She held back and hit the light switch.
“I want to watch you as we make love,” she said.
Still holding onto her, he made a noise in his throat that sounded like a growl, and she laughed. Feeling strong again, with a hunger for him so great it made her want to devour him.
In his face she saw his tens
ion, as if an inferno roared inside him. As if he burned for her as much as she hungered for him. Needed her as much as she needed him. To fill her. To love her.
Her body started to shake from all the need. It was too much. Too much for herself, and too much to put on any man.
She tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t release her. They tumbled together onto the bed, and this man who was always so gentle was on top of her, holding her tightly, breathing harshly, pressing his erection against her.
Or was that her, holding him tightly, breathing harshly, wrapping her legs around him?
“Now,” she said. “Now.”
“Are you sure?” his voice ground out. Beneath her hands on his back, she felt his heated skin. Beneath her heels on his ass she left his tension. Beneath his erection, she felt as if she were going to fall apart.
“Now!”
He entered her. No foreplay needed. Small sounds came from both of them. She didn’t know what came from who and she didn’t care. This primal release, this satisfaction, this ecstasy, over and over again, was all she needed.
It seemed to last forever, her sensitive pulse points exploding with every in and out motion. She cried out and cried out and held on, her fingers digging into the backs of his upper arms.
And then it was his turn to cry out as he shuddered inside her and she let out a small scream, holding him even tighter.
He subsided on top of her, letting himself down slowly. Even in that most intense moment taking care of her.
His breathing was uneven and harsh in her ear as she thought, I hope he doesn’t say he loves me. It would be too much.
He didn’t say it. And neither did she. But they held onto each other as if they were the reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet, older and wiser, but still afraid someone was going to tear them apart.
And that story didn’t have a happy ending.
Chapter Forty-one
The hall light spilled into the bedroom and Gabe watched Katie sleep, still smelling like him. He probably smelled like her—like great, sweaty sex—and should shower, but he didn’t move, not ready to leave her.
Love.
He wasn’t ready for it, not now when he was just getting his life together, but it had come to him. He knew in Miracle that he loved her, but he’d left anyway. Now she was here, and all he could think was How long before she leaves?
Finally he got up, used the bathroom, cleaned the kitchen. Once that was done, he hesitated. Then he walked to the small office next to the bedroom. Close enough to hear Katie if she called out for him.
He needed to edit the videos he’d shot today and email them to the two sets of parents. He wanted to hold her all night, but he’d left Miracle to do these videos. Katie was here with him, but that hadn’t changed.
She had her pie magic, and he...there was no magic in what he did, but there was a lot of heart.
These videos felt right. As if this was what he was supposed to do.
Being with Katie felt right, too. As if she was the one person in the world he would love completely.
Katie used to believe he was an angel. If that were so, God was in heaven laughing at the trick he’d played, giving him two loves that might split his heart in two.
Chapter Forty-two
Katie looked less wan in the morning, more color in her cheeks. He’d done that with his lovemaking, he thought, even as he laughed at himself. As if he had a magic penis.
More likely it was the apple pie they were eating for breakfast.
“What does my pie make you think of?” she asked when they were done.
“Miracle.”
Her eyes widened and she looked startled.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me. What do you call this pie?”
“It’s the Home Pie. When you eat it, you think of home.”
He looked down at his plate, only crumbs left. She laid her hand lightly on his forearm, wordlessly calling his attention to her. He shifted his gaze to her face.
“Your pie is wrong.”
Her eyelids lowered halfway down, closing off her thoughts from him.
“Miracle is a place for me to visit because you live there.” He put his right hand over hers. “It will never be home for me. To do what I do, I need to be in a bigger city.”
“Of course.” She smiled with her lips but not her eyes. He drew his hand from hers and she immediately slid hers off his arm.
He felt cold. Bereft. As if something had changed between them.
“Are you showing me your webisodes?” she asked, her voice bright.
“You still want to see them?”
She stood and leaned forward to kiss him. Her hair swung past his cheek and his ear, brushing his shoulder. Pulling back, she said, “That means yes.”
He carried one of the dining table chairs into the office he’d set up a couple days ago in the second bedroom. It took him a minute to get the video up. So far he had filmed seven kids. She’d seen the first one, so he started with the second. As she watched, tears formed in her eyes to be driven away by a smile and even laughter that was soon drowned out by more tears.
When the last webisode was over, her hand was pressed over her mouth and she still stared at the screen where a bald twelve-year-old girl with no eyebrows smiled at them.
“These kids...” Her voice broke.
“I know.” Emotion filled him, too. Pride for these videos. And for the kids he felt too much—too much pride, too much empathy. A good filmmaker was supposed to put something like this together with some distance. But when he filmed these kids there was no distance. Twenty-four years ago he’d been one of them, and it was a miracle that he was alive and making these films.
“My boyfriend is a genius,” she said.
“Your boyfriend?” His lips curved up and he felt the smile all the way down to his toes.
“Can you think of a better word?”
“Lover.”
She laughed and leaned toward him. They kissed, and his cell phone buzzed on the desktop. Still holding her, he picked it up and saw the name of a parent who’d said she needed to talk to her husband and would get back to him.
A weight settled in his chest. The real world was calling. “I have to take this.”
She nodded and he walked into the kitchen and talked a few minutes, then called Taz. Taz had gotten a job with an indie director who was a stockbroker during the day and a filmmaker in the evening. Taz told Gabe the movie was about vampires and zombies in the Chicago Stock Exchange. His expression deadpan, Gabe said it might be too realistic to be fiction.
So far Taz was available during the day. Gabe felt as if everything was finally coming together for him.
Even the woman he loved had come to Chicago to be with him.
He didn’t know why he felt like any moment a lightning bolt might strike him and rip apart his world.
After the arrangements were set he found Katie in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, the water running, door open. Even that everyday action seemed intimate. It made him want to call the mother of the boy with a brain tumor and see if he could come an hour later.
But that would be ridiculous. Besides, the mother had told him she had to be at work at 10 AM, so he needed to hustle.
“I have another interview.”
She spit out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.
“I wanted to take you places today,” he continued. “A walk on the pier. The art museum, the planetarium, the science museum...”
“All of that today?” She grabbed a washcloth and patted her mouth.
He laughed. “It would have to be a long day.”
“Then there’s no rush. Go do your interview and don’t worry about me. I can drive to the lakefront and walk along it.”
“You’re sure?”
She rolled her eyes. He laughed and kissed her hard, tasting her peppermint-flavored toothpaste. She smiled at him, and when he was ready to leav
e, she was still smiling. He gave her his extra key and kissed her harder than usual. He had the crazy thought that he was imprinting his kiss on her.
Still smiling, she waved him off. When he got in his car that was cold from being left out all night, he had to fight a notion that he should go back to her. That she was like a bird, ready to fly away.
But that was his nerves talking. She just got here yesterday and wasn’t going to fly anywhere soon.
Chapter Forty-three
“You should call your mother,” Sam said.
Holding her cell phone to her ear and looking at Gabe’s computer for directions to the lakefront, Katie made a face. “She hasn’t seen me since she dropped me off at the farm.”
“She was an addict.”
“Not anymore. She’s had two kids since then and still hasn’t shown any interest in seeing me.”
“She keeps in touch.”
“She calls once a year on my birthday. I dread those calls.”
“Yet you still answer.”
“Gram raised me not to be rude.”
“Don’t you want to know your half-sisters?”
She closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip. Sam knew her too well.
“I’ll call her.”
“I’ll give you her number.”
“I’ll get a pen.” As she found one, she thought it was odd that she didn’t know her mother’s number. Not that it mattered. She’d only agreed to call her now because of Sam’s prodding.
“Love you, honey,” he said.
“Love you, too.”
Feeling sick, she clicked the phone off. She hadn’t even thought of her mother as she drove to Chicago. Another oddity. And it was odd that she only remembered snatches of her childhood—and the clearest were about Gabe. He’d been her bright, shining angel. Other girls might have wished on stars or clapped for Tinkerbell. She had her own golden-haired angel.