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“I’m sorry I’m so late,” I whisper.
She rises to her elbows. “What time is it?” she asks.
“Just past eleven.”
She raises her arms above her, and a yawn escapes as she extends her back in a deep stretch, causing the hem of her shirt to rise, exposing the top of her thighs.
She’s trying to kill me.
Sitting up, she scooches to the left side of the bed and pats the space beside her in invitation. “Want to watch a movie with me?” she asks.
I shouldn’t.
I should tell her I have to go.
I should tell her it was lovely to meet her.
I should kiss her on the cheek and tell her good-bye.
I should walk my ass back downstairs and get in the SUV and leave.
I should do all of those things, but instead, I throw my legs on the bed and scoot over to join her.
“What are we watching?” I ask.
She plucks the remote from the nightstand and clicks the television that’s mounted on the wall to life.
“ElforChristmas Vacation. The choice is yours,” she replies.
I stuff one of her pillows behind me and cross my arms over my chest as I settle back against the headboard.
“I think I hear afunny squeaky sound,” I say.
She cuts her eyes to me and grins. “Got it!”
She findsNational Lampoon’s Christmas Vacationon her list and hits pause before going to her knees and crawling down the bed.
I reach out and grab hold of her foot. She comes to a stop and looks over her shoulder at me.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To make popcorn and open a bottle of wine, duh. You can’t have a movie night without snacks.”
I release her, and she slips off the edge and shuffles to the wine rack that sits on the counter between the stove and the wall. She takes her time choosing a bottle of red and patters over to me with an opener. I take them from her hand, and she returns to toss a bag of popcorn into the microwave. While it pops, she pulls two glasses from the cabinet and returns to wait for me to twist the cork from the bottle. I slip the cork into my pocket before filling the glasses. She sets them on the nightstand and takes the bottle back to the counter.
When she returns, she is carrying a large bowl filled with salty, popped kernels. I take it as she climbs over me, and we bed down to watch the movie.
Sela
The cozy warmth of the man lying next to me, sharing a bowl of buttery popcorn, envelops me.
On the television screen, the classic holiday movie plays, and we both laugh at the antics of Clark Griswold. Our eyes are glued to the screen when Isaac reaches for another handful of popcorn, his fingers brushing against mine. A jolt of electricity shoots through me at the contact, making my heart skip a beat.
He turns his head to look at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something more. “Sela.”
The raspy way my name rolls off his tongue causes my breath to catch in my throat.
I steal a glance at his lips, my mind racing with emotions at the thought that this will probably be the last time he says my name.
