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She recognizes it immediately. His potential. It’s too bad her plate is a little more than full at the moment.
As she laments over her jam-packed itinerary, she adds his info into her phone. Just in case. Ali is many things. Stupid isn’t one of them. You never know when a little spare time might creep up, and there is that saying about idle hands. As she says in her work, life often has a way of surprising you.
Chapter Four
Ali
Boston
Acar picked her up at the airport and dropped her downtown in front of her high-rise. As she steps out and into the perfect clear blue sky, she’s reminded of why April is her favorite month of the year. Not only is the weather gorgeous, it’s filled with hope and renewal. More than anything, she loves what a crapshoot the forecast is, how you never know what you’re going to get. One second it can be calm with clear skies, and the next, at least here up North, you suddenly find yourself snowed in.
“I’ve missed that smile,” the doorman says, greeting her with a playful bow.
“Oh, Melvin.” She sweeps her long chestnut hair from her shoulder, sighing wistfully. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He laughs and then shakes a pointed finger at her. “You got me.”
As he lifts her bags from the trunk of the Town Car, he pauses and turns in her direction. “But none of them are as pretty as you, so this time it’s the truth.”
She offers him a wink and a smile. “I have no doubt.”
Inside the building, as she presses the elevator button for the top, the six-carat diamond on her left hand catches her eye. She smiles as the elevator doors open and she steps in. During the ride, she thinks of Andrew from the flight. Andrew-with-the-potential, Andrew admiring her ring. She appreciates the not-so-honest honesty in his approach. He knows what she knows. If something without strings is what one is looking for, there’s no better insurance policy than a giant rock on a woman’s left ring finger.
“Hello,” she calls, fumbling with the keycard, trying to remove it from the condo door. With one hand she struggles to hold the heavy door, with the other she drags her luggage over the threshold. “Anybody home?”
Edward wheels himself around the corner, a plate balanced on his right knee. His charcoal hair has grown while she was away. It hangs in his eyes, and she knows he hates when it gets that long. He’s midbite as his brows rise. “Ali?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
In one fell swoop, he tosses the plate onto the counter and pushes off, barreling toward her at full speed. He overshoots, clashing his chair against her left shin. She cries out. Edward leans forward and tries to help. He doesn’t. “You’re home early.”
He takes her hand in his, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses it. The diamond has been replaced by the simple gold band he gave her three months ago. “My God I’ve missed you.”
She sniffs the air. “You poor thing, what are you eating?”
“Leftover takeout.”
“That’s exactly what it smells like,” she says, kicking off one black pump, and then the other.
He watches her as she walks over to the sofa and lifts the remote. She points it toward the floor to ceiling windows, pressing the button to open the shades. “It’s nice out.”
His expression shifts, and she knows he hasn’t seen sunlight in days. He blinks his cerulean eyes several times, then shields them completely.
With a nod at his plate, she says, “I could cook for you.”
“That’s okay.” It’s remarkable. He looks like such a little boy when he lies. She can picture him as a child with his crooked smile, tousled hair, and skinned knees. “You must be beat.”
“I slept on the flight.”
He wheels over to where she stands in the middle of the open floor plan, slower this time. He stops in front of her, leans forward, and wraps his arms around the lower half of her body. It feels like a boa constrictor, snaking its way around her, and she wants to move away. But she doesn’t. She won’t. He burrows his face into her thighs. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
When he pulls away, he motions with one finger for her to turn around. She obliges and then knowing what he wants, more for reassurance than anything, she crouches down so he can unzip her dress. Painfully slowly, he slides it from her shoulders. “I’ve been waiting—”
She stands abruptly and wrinkles her nose. “I think I’ll shower first. Airports are filthy places.”
He grabs her wrist. His pale eyes flicker, seemingly turning several shades darker. “I can’t wait any longer.”
She knows he’s lying, so she smiles and pushes off his chest. His eyes never leave her as she slinks toward the bedroom. He’s had two infections in the last month alone. One that almost killed him. Not waiting is not an option. Aside from that, it’s obvious he’s let himself go while she was away. He reeks of onions and musty clothes. She doesn’t know if she can bear it. Some things you can fake, others not so much. “I guess you’ll have to join me then.”
