“Why not, Dirk?”
Because my pulse is racing, because my body remembers exactly where this leads, because Lucy may be all wiles and I’m a sucker.
She lights a couple of candles and we sit and stare at her view. There are far fewer city lights at this hour. We watch some of them blink off. It’s mesmerizing, and she is warm beside me, her breath soft and sweet as we sip at the port. My lips remember hers. They have a life of their own.
“Thank you for being there,” she says. “And for being here.”
“For ...?”
“I can’t thank you enough for that kiss, Dirk. It was exactly what I needed.”
“I’d do it for anyone,” I say.
“Not that again! You really helped me out.” And before I know it, she slips her hand inside my arm and presses closer to me. This time her kiss is chaste. She reaches up to my cheek, the fabric of her gown rustling, her perfume a delicious waft of temptation, but it’s just a friendly peck, and I’m sorry when she leans away and regains a respectable distance.
“My Ex,” she says, and sighs heavily.
“Which one?” I say. It’s an attempt at a joke.
She inhales sharply, recoils from me. I don’t understand why she stands and places her unfinished glass on the windowsill. She’s waiting for me to leave.
I swirl the last of my port in the bottom of the tiny glass. It glows ruby red in Lucy’s candlelight, the same color as her lamps with long beaded tassels in the corner.
I am dismissed, chastised – and strangely bereft. It was just meant to be banter. Was I unnecessarily cruel? For all her strength and guile, Lucy is vulnerable. I should know. It’s not long since we shared the drink in the bar and she revealed the torment of her estrangement from her daughter, not to mention that horrific interview. Public shaming makes everyone vulnerable.
So now I am a different kind of fool. I have no evidence Lucy is a fortune hunter. She’s only human, and I’ve insulted her. As I stumble out of there, out of that inviting haven where I had been so warmly invited, and up to my empty apartment with everything too neat and tidy, including my bed – too big and cold and lonely – I am ashamed.
Chapter 28
Lucy
Next morning, on mydoorstep, wrapped in crisp white paper – roses. They’re of every color, yellow and hot pink and red and amber and white with pale pink tips – my favorite.
I close my eyes, bury my nose in the waxy coolness of their petals and inhale deeply. Their lemony fragrance takes me right back to my beautiful home, in full summer, to all the jewels of my garden – in bloom around me, swaying in a breeze so mild and warm and gentle it’s a caress.
There are tears in my eyes when I open them, and I gasp. Dirk is there, hands folded in front of him, contrite. He barely meets my eyes, but doesn’t move away. He clears his throat.
