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“Deal. But you have to promise to be gentle with me. I don’t do well with violence.”
“I can promise not to be violent, but gentle may be a stretch.”
I smile. “True. You have a way about you that’s definitely not gentle.”
He gives me a questioning look. “I have a way about me?”
“Yes.” My hand seeks his body again but I only allow it to linger nearby. “I can only imagine what it would be like having you in my daily life. I think you would be bossy and demanding.”
I’m cold but the heat that roars to life in Bradford’s eyes is enough to up the temperature. “I would only be those things if you were denying me something like you have been tonight.”
My mind explodes with images of Bradford wanting things from me. Things I desperately want to give him.
Don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him,don’t kiss him.
“I’m not so sure. I think your determination and focus might make you bossy without you even realizing.”
“Bossy gets things done, Kristen.”
And now we’ve veered into dangerous territory. Not that he’d be aware of it, but for me, all I can think about is him bossing me into many, many things. This is territory I shouldn’t be anywhere near with him.
I snatch my hand away from him. “I should get back to the gala. My mother is likely losing her mind without me there to help her.”
The look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t want to let me go, but he doesn’t stop me. He does, however say, “I have something for you.”
As I wonder what that could be, he pulls a small book from the inside of his coat and hands it to me. My heart slows when I realize what it is. A first edition Charlotte Franklin poetry book.
When I look up to meet his gaze again, I find him watching me closely. It feels like he’s noting every inch of my face. Every curve, every shadow, every hollow. It feels like he’s learning by heart how I respond to his gift.
I run my hand over the front of the book, the significance of the moment scattering goose bumps over my skin.
He gave me a Charlotte Franklin book.
He remembered my favorite poet.
He searched for this gift.
“Thank you.” The two words fall from my lips so delicately that I wonder if he’ll be able to hear them, but his thoughtfulness has affected me so greatly that this is all I have to offer him.
No man has ever given me such a meaningful gift or taken the time and care to learn what I would cherish.
“I read some of her poems. I see why she speaks to you.”
The rhythmic fluttering of my heart echoes the intensity of my emotions. When it’s obvious I’m lost for words, Bradford takes charge and tells me to go, that he’s going to take another few minutes up here.
As I’m walking away from him, clutching my gift like it’s the most precious thing in the world, I turn back and say, “You didn’t tell me what you’ve been up to. Are you happy?”
He nods. “Yes.”
My second to last thought before stepping into the elevator and forcing all thoughts but the gala from my mind is that Bradford didn’t smile tonight. Not even a hint of a smile touched his lips.
My last thought as the elevator doors slide closed is that I wish I was the last person he saw as he put his head on his pillow each night. The person who gets to put their head on his chest and wrap their arms around him, knowing why he didn’t smile that day.
8
Kristen
One Year Later
