She softens, “Did you fix it?”
“Yeah, we did,” I take a sip of my coffee and lean back on the counter, “Just a mess. I’m sorry I left you.”
She waves a hand and smiles, “Don’t be. I ate popcorn and watched a movie.”
I tug at the bow around my neck, even though it isn’t too tight. After she left this morning, I toyed with the idea of just coming clean, so I don’t have to deal with this panic. Telling myself it’s no big deal, that she’d probably just laugh it off and shake her head. Maybe she’ll only be a bit annoyed.
But then there’s the what if.
What if she leaves me?
What if she never talks to me again?
What if she would have chosen differently if she was given the option I took away from her?
Round and around I go.
Putting the car in park, I turn off the engine and climb out, looking up the building even though I know her window is on the other side. Straightening the already straight lapels of my jacket, I push into the building and take the stairs up to her floor before I pull out the keys and let myself inside. Music is playing loudly through her sound system, and a half-drunk glass of wine with a red lipstick stain is sitting on the counter, but I don’t see her. Following the trail of destruction, clothes and shoes left lying on the floor, I find her applying more lipstick in the bathroom mirror, my breath halting in my throat when I catch the full picture of her.
Gold shimmers in the lighting of the bathroom, and her hair has been pinned up, showing off the delicate column of her throat. The shock of red lipstick draws attention to her pouty lips, but the rest of her face is more of a natural look, with neutral tones around her eyes. She catches my reflection in the mirror and smiles, not stopping with the application to her mouth until she’s happy with the coverage.
“Hey baby,” she says, and if my heart didn’t stop before, it does now with the use of that endearment and the soft way she spoke it.
“Hi cricket,” I croak before I clear my throat.
Dropping the lipstick into her purse, she clips it closed and turns to me, leaning her hip on the counter. The gold dress, much like the red, clings to the shape of her, but it flows more freely around her legs with a small trail that drags behind her. The neckline is high, collaring her throat, and the material shimmers like liquid gold.
The last time she wore it, every head turned her way, and there’s no doubt it will be the same this time.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“As I’ll ever be,” she closes the short distance between us, “I would kiss you, but I don’t want to get lipstick on your face.”
“Put a kiss right here,” I point to the space between the collar of my shirt and the lobe of my ear, “Anyone who sees it will know I’m yours.”
Her eyes flare for a moment, but then she lifts onto her toes and adjusts the fabric of my black shirt before I feel the press of her lips on my skin. She’s firm and delicate all in the same breath, and when she pulls away, Ilook at my reflection, seeing the perfect imprint of her mouth left behind.
“Perfect,” she beams.
She slips her feet into her gold heels, and I keep a tight hold on her as we descend the stairs, heading for my car parked at the sidewalk. Once I open her door, she slips into the passenger side and gets buckled up. It’s a warm night thankfully, cloudless, and the stars are shining against the sea of black. Summer is hanging on, keeping us locked in this little bubble of ours, though I can’t say I’m not looking forward to the snow and the cozy nights spent under blankets.
We drive across the city toward the Convention Center where the Gala is being held. The attendance will be high, with it being a fundraiser for the local children’s hospital; every big name will be there. I attend several of these a year with Sidney, so we both know what to expect. Both our social batteries will be depleted by the time the night is over.
I join the queue of traffic toward the valet, looking over to Sidney who’s already wincing at the amount of people on the steps outside and the press with their cameras flashing, capturing every moment. We make it to the front, and both get out when our doors are opened, and I hand the keys over, rounding the hood to where Sidney waits for me.
Cameras immediately flash; it doesn’t matter if they know who we are or not; every moment is an opportunity.
“Want to give them something to talk about?” I say low to Sid’s ear, offering her my hand.
“Go big or go home, right?” She laughs.
I take her hand in mine and lean toward her face, “Just a soft one. I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”
Her hand slides around the nape of my neck, and she reaches up, pressing her mouth to mine, keeping it chaste and closed lipped but it shows the point. Cameras go off like crazy, capturing the moment, and I already know we will have a spread in the local paper. My dating life is apparently a topic people find interesting around here, though I’ve no idea why.
She pulls away and immediately swipes her thumb over my bottom lip, removing any stain her makeup may have left behind. Dragging my attention away from her, I begin to guide us toward the steps, but my eyes snag on a couple standing there, a frown pulling on my brows. Lauren stands with Isaac Shaw, his hand on her waist while he talks with the local Chief of Police.
“Calahan,” Isaac greets me as we pass, finishing his conversation. “Sidney, good to see you again.”
