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Lily stops pacing and looks outside. She sees the car and stares until I have no choice but to open the door and get out. Her face lights up as soon as she sees me, and her smile hits me right in the chest.
"Hey," she says shyly.
"Hey," I answer.
"Are you going to take me upstairs, Chase? Or am I sitting in your lobby all night?"
"Are you sure you want this?" I ask. My voice comes strangled and rough. "Me, I mean?"
"Yes," she whispers, laying her head against my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. She inhales as if trying to breathe me in. "I've always wanted you, Chase, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it."
"I'm not perfect, Lily."
"I don't want you to be. I want you just like this. A little naughty and a little nice."
"I'm not nice."
"Maybe not, and maybe I'm not all that nice either.” She pulls back, looking into my eyes. "I'm tired of people treating me like a child or some delicate thing. I'm a woman with desires and needs. I'm not all sweetness and innocence."
I take Lily's hand in mine and walk her to the bank of elevators. The ride up to the top floor is quick, and I mentally file through everything inside my apartment, trying to remember how clean I left it. I'm not a messy person, and it's not overly large—just an eat-in kitchen, living room, powder room, and a master bedroom with big windows with a luxurious ensuite. I pride myself on my bathroom. It has a jacuzzi tub, big enough for two, and a walk-in shower with a massaging showerhead and waterfall option.
I have a cleaner come once a week to ensure everything is kept tidy, but there's never much of anything to do. After Mom died, taking care of the house was left to me, so naturally, I transferred those skills to my own home.
Lily's never been here, though. We've FaceTimed a few times, but she's never physically been in my home. It makes me nervous to contemplate what she'll think when she sees it.
"Welcome to my lair," I joke, opening the door and ushering her inside.
She walks inside and looks around after kicking off her shoes. Slowly, she strolls into the kitchen area, her gaze assessing my cooking equipment. It's all stainless steel, with a gas stove and a double-door fridge. She smiles when her eyes zero in on the wine fridge built into the kitchen island, which is set up like a mini-bar. Along part of my countertop, I have a tiered shelf of spirits and hanging glasses, along with a blender and other cocktail paraphernalia.
"Did you miss your calling as a bartender?" Lily asks while running a finger over the black marble countertops veined with gold. The backsplash is white tile with back-lighting, creating a soft shimmer on the marble. "Very nice."
"I took a bartending class in Florida and it stuck with me."
Lily's eyebrows raise in surprise, but she continues to check out the rest of the apartment, from my eighty-inch, wall-mount TV to my black leather couch and sleek, modern white and black end tables.
By the time Lily reaches my bedroom door, my stomach clenches in dread or anticipation; I'm not sure. Her eyes immediately go to my four-post California king bed with black satin sheets. I know it's cliche, but I've always liked their smooth, slippery feel over my skin. The wood of my bed frame is dark, like the rest of the furniture in my room. Most of the things inside my apartment are dark, with minimal splashes of colour. Her eyes widen a little when she notices the swaths of red folded neatly by the headboard. Silk scarves.
Lily's eyes flick between me and those scarves. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, and the action has my cock saluting in approval.
She takes a slow stroll around my room, glancing from dressers to night tables. I wonder if she notices the utter lack of anything personal adorning my walls. I have very few sentimental items lying around. Just a few hockey pucks, my Olympic gold medal, and three framed photos. Naturally, her keen eyes spot the pictures immediately.
Walking over to my bed, Lily plops down and examines the photos on my bedside table. One's of the whole Valentine brood and me when Lily's parents took us camping. It was the summer before Luke and I started our rookie years playing junior hockey, and it was one of the happiest summers of my life. We went whitewater rafting and it felt like a grand adventure. We were splashing over massive rapids, crashing through the water, and the entire time none of us could stop laughing—even when we were assaulted with mouths full of river water.
The biggest picture is of my mother before she got sick. She's in our backyard before Dad let our property go for a shit, sitting on a swing tied to the big maple tree. Her smile is wide and her face is bright like there is nowhere else she's rather be. I have her greenish-blue eyes; only hers turn up at the edges and carry a sparkle like she's keeping a secret and wants to share with you.
I was standing behind Dad when he took the picture, smiling back at Mom. She looked at us like we were her two favourite people in the universe, because we were.
Two months later, the doctors found the brain tumour. Two weeks after that, Mom never came home.
"You look just like her," Lily whispers. Her fingers run over the image as if trying to trace the likeness between us.
The last picture, in a small frame hidden behind the others, is Lily on her prom night. The same night I realized she was the woman I wanted but could never have. Mrs. Valentine made her stand on the porch in her dress and corsage, a lilac tree behind her. I swear I can still smell those flowers and feel how my heart wanted to leap out of my chest.
"Where did you get this?" Lily asks, picking up the photo and staring at it with a rueful smile.
"Your mom gave it to me, along with the camping pic. I think she wanted me to have pictures of the family when I went away to play hockey."
"I was so nervous that night," Lily says, placing the frame back on my night table. "Derrick and I had been together for a while. I knew he wanted to take the next step, and I was ready too. I wanted to, but then I saw you and I couldn't help but wish it was you instead.
