In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [32]
I remember the first time. I had invited you to New York for the weekend. I went to meet you at the airport. I was waiting for you at the gate and you strode out of that corridor, gazing around, searching for me. I could tell from the expression in your eyes you were afraid I hadn’t shown . . . that I’d left you in the lurch. When you saw me, it was as though someone had lit a candle in your eyes. You just glowed. I thought you looked wonderful . . . a golden girl. Except your nose was red.
“Don’t kiss me or you’ll catch my cold,” you warned, turning your face away. As if I hadn’t gotten you to come to New York with the express purpose of kissing you. Boy, you can be a hard woman when you choose. . . .
So I held your hand instead, all the way to Manhattan in the limo. You were so impressed by Vincent Towers Fifth you insisted on walking all the way around it. You inspected the lobby from corner to corner, saying, “Wow, this place must have cost a fortune. And you built it all by yourself.”
I was modest. “Well, not quite . . . ,” I replied.
You were even more impressed when we got into the elevator and I pressed the P for Penthouse button. You were all wide-eyed with wonder. . . . Sometimes you are so like Riley, I don’t know which is the kid, you or her. . . .
When we got there, you ran to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the view, all of Manhattan spread in front of you. . . . “Central Park,” you said, awed, and I wanted so badly to throw my arms around you and hug you. But I didn’t want you to think I had brought you all the way to New York just to seduce you . . . though of course I had. Except there was more to it than just that. I knew it, even then. . . .
He felt her moving away from him. Oh, baby, don’t take your hand away. . . . Please don’t go. . . . Oh, Zel, I need you now more than ever. . . . I’m scared of leaving you, Zel, I don’t want to die. . . .
He could smell her familiar scent as she leaned over him, felt the softness of her lips on his and the cool wetness of her tears. “I’m here, honey,” he heard her whisper. “I’m never leaving you. Detective Camelia would have to drag me away. Except I’m bigger than he is.”
She giggled through her tears, that intoxicating giggle that erupted at all their most serious moments, breaking him up. . . . Had he been able to, he would have heaved a sigh of pure happiness, but the machine was doing his breathing for him. . . . Damn those machines . . . he had to get out of there. . . .
She was saying something. He strained to catch her words, spoken softly, almost as if she were talking to herself . . . remembering. . . .
“I walked into that penthouse,” Mel said, “expecting—I don’t know what—the Taj Mahal, the sultan’s palace. I mean, there was this huge space—and just these few old sticks of furniture. A table, a couple of chairs, an old rug, and a sofa that looked as though it came straight from the thrift shop. I guess my jaw must have dropped because you were laughing.
“I said, ‘I didn’t know you were just moving in.’
“ ‘Actually, I’ve lived here for five years,’ you said. ‘This is it.’
“ ‘Mmmm, definitely not the nesting type,’ I said. I was laughing, too, as I inspected your bedroom. It was just what I’d expected by then. A bed, a chair, a lamp. My, but you were basic. Except for the hi-fi equipment. I’d never seen anything like that. ‘The latest and the best,’ you told me proudly, putting on a CD of Chet Baker’s ‘Long Ago and Far Away.’ I’ll never forget it . . . it became our song. . . .
“I walked to the windows. The lights sparkled down Fifth Avenue and it was snowing. You came and stood beside me . . . not touching, but it felt as though you were, with those little electric vibrations zinging between us like Morse code. I was so aware of you I swear my