“Thank you, Prince.” She clinked hers against mine. “Happy birthday to you too.” With her eyes on me, she sipped her drink, and I wondered what went on behind those beautiful turquoise eyes. Setting her glass on the table, she glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. “Would you do something for me?” I nodded. “At precisely ten minutes past eight, would you light a candle with me to make a wish?”
I cocked my head to one side, baffled by her request. “Why?”
“Humor me.” Her smile lit up my insides. Was it weird that I was willing to grant this woman just about anything?
“Let me get a candle.” I stood.
She held up her hand to stop me. “It’s okay. I have one.” I sat down as she reached for her purse and withdrew a thin white candle.
I chuckled. “You brought a candle with you to a...a date?”
With a soft laugh, she blew out the dinner candles between us, removed one from the holder, and stuck hers in its place. Intrigued, I watched her every movement. Next, she searched her purse to retrieve a box of matches. Before she lit it, she glanced at her wristwatch as though counting the seconds. I looked at my watch, noting the five seconds to 8.10 p.m., wondering why it had to be precisely that time. She struck the stick against the box, pulling my gaze, and lit the candle.
“Put your hands around mine, let your thumbs touch the candle, close your eyes, and make a wish. Oka?”
Nodding, I did as she asked. When she closed her eyes, I did the same. It took me a moment to calm my rapid breathing and concentrate on making a wish yet still baffled by her detailed instructions. The fact that she’d brought a candle along to perform this ritual made me smile. Strangely, it felt like something my daughter would do. My eyes flew open at the thought. I opened my mouth to ask Sia her age.
The vision in front of me was breath-taking. Her dark lashes kissed her golden skin, framed by the glow of the candle’s flame. She was mesmerizing. Another couple of seconds past and she opened her eyes. When she looked up, her pink lips parted, and her tongue danced slowly across the bottom lip. I wanted nothing more than to taste those lips, to devour every part of her body. To own her, to make her mine. I had been so enraptured by my desire that it took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me.
I offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
“I said thank you for doing this with me.”
“You want to tell me about it?” Her hands were still around the candle. I kept mine over hers. She stared at me for a long moment. I could see the contemplation in her eyes. Would she trust me?
“I don’t want to bore you.”
“You’re not going to.” I gave her hands a gentle squeeze.
Her gaze dropped to the flickering flame. “Eight months before my sixth birthday, my mom developed colon cancer. I didn’t understand what was wrong with her, and my parents didn’t know how to explain it. Too sick to move, she’d become bedridden. On my birthday, she’d tried desperately to act happy and celebrate with me. That evening she asked me to bring her a candle. She placed my hands around it, lit it, and then covered my hands with hers, her thumbs touching the candle. Her smile, the most beautiful I’d ever seen, she told me to look at the time, close my eyes and make a wish, and as I did, she whispered that it would be her way of knowing I was safe. Then we both closed our eyes. When I opened my eyes, I said, ‘what did you wish for, mommy?’ but she never opened her eyes again.”
When Sia looked up at me, I sucked in a breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them. Pain seared through my chest for that little girl who’d forever remember her mother’s death, yet at the same time keeping their last moment together permanently cemented.
My grip on her hands tightened. “I’m sorry, Sia.”
She smiled. “It was her way of saying goodbye without making it hard on both of us. Every year, I’d perform this ritual with my father to let her know I’ve survived another year, and when he passed, I began doing it myself,” she whispered. Her gaze dropped to our hands, cupped around the candle. “Thank you for indulging a stranger’s melodrama.”
“Thank you for sharing a little piece of you with me. It’s a beautiful tradition.” I stood, holding out a hand. She hesitated for just a second, then stood and accepted it. I pulled her into a tight embrace. “Happy birthday, Sia.” When I leaned back to look down at her, she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed me—a slow, provocative melding of our lips. My hands tightened around her waist, drawing her close to me. Something told me that however short our time together. It would steal my heart forever.
