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“Have to. I have meetings all day.” His fingers coasted down the soft side of her breast as she stretched languidly. “But you have no idea how tempting you are.”
She peeked at him from under her lashes. He wore a pressed white dress shirt under a pinstriped black vest and tailored slacks. The warm scent of fresh coffee steamed from the mug in his other hand, and his jacket was draped over his arm.
“I left you a little present in the hall. I have to get going. I have an appointment in twenty minutes.” He kissed her again and as he walked out the door, longing pinched her heart. The sound of the front door closing behind him created an actual twinge of pain in her veins.
Sighing, she rolled out of bed and slipped into her robe. After using the bathroom she wandered into the hall to see what he’d left her. Her steps faltered as she spotted the enormous box wrapped in red glossy paper, and several other smaller, but still large, boxes wrapped and scattered around it. There was a black bow—so very Lucian—tacked to the top of the biggest box with a tag.
She shouldn’t be surprised this was what he considered a “little present,” but she was. Shaking her head, still half asleep, she shuffled over to the boxes and looked at the tag. He had written in legible, boxy print using only small words.
CALL FRONT DESK. WILL BUILD. HAVE FUN.
~L.
She plucked the corner of the paper on the largest box carefully. She liked to save a scrap of the paper from every gift Lucian gave her. Her collection was becoming a bit of a hoarder’s fantasy, but she couldn’t help it. He always had things wrapped in such pretty paper.
Finding the folded seam, she pulled the paper back and frowned. The picture on the front showed a woman drawing at a big, square slab. There was a word she sounded out. “Cruh . . . cruff . . . cruft.” She shook her head and tried again. A says ah. “Crahfft. Craft.”
Looking at the picture again, she noticed the shelves of the counter were filled with baskets of paintbrushes, scissors, and markers. He got her a craft table? The phone rang and she moved to his desk to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Do you like it?”
She smiled. “It’s a craft table.”
“I know. Do you like it?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I figured you could use it to do whatever you plan on doing with your collections. The front desk is awaiting your call. Get dressed and give them a buzz. Someone from maintenance is scheduled to come up and put it together.”
“Where should they put it?” It was a large, square table, judging by the picture.
“You can put it in the guest room or put it next to my desk if you want. That way while I’m working you can work beside me.”
Her face stretched to accommodate her smile. He was amazing. “Thank you, Lucian. I love it.”
“I love you.”
He’d been saying that more and more. Maybe she should just say it back. But she had this sickening fear the moment she said those words everything would turn delicate and shatter. “Thank you.” She could only confide her love once she was certain she wouldn’t regret it, but she knew there were no guarantees in matters of the heart.
He sighed and she hated, after everything he had given her, that she still couldn’t give him that. “Have a good day, Evelyn. I won’t be home until after seven. Go ahead and eat without me.” The line went dead.
She quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft periwinkle sweater, fixed her hair and washed up for the day, then called down to the front desk. A man by the name of José came right up bearing a toolbox and wearing a more serviceable Patras uniform.
Evelyn opened all the boxes. They were filled with beautiful baskets and jars to organize her stuff. José went right to work. The table was enormous, twice the size of Lucian’s antique desk. It looked juvenile next to his fancy setup. She went to her room and pulled a tip out of the top drawer for José. He was done within an hour.
When he left, she stood staring at her new table. José had put some of her items from the craft store in various compartments. Her stones and trinkets from the sidewalk sale filled pretty apothecary jars, catching the sun coming through the large window. She sat at the stool Lucian had bought to go with the table and stared at all her stuff, a bit afraid to touch it and mess it up.
Her fingers brushed the jar holding her sea glass. She turned it until her favorite piece showed and caught the sunlight. Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, her shoulders slumped. Now what?
