Less is more, unless it’s love or chocolate.
—Eva
If she was sensible, she probably would have tried to distance herself.
She believed it was possible to fall in love more than once, but what if it never happened? What if this was the only experience of real love she was going to have in her lifetime? In case it was, she wanted to make the most of it. But every moment they spent together was tinged with poignancy, sharpened with an edge of sadness, because she knew it was going to end.
Now that he had a completed draft, some of the urgency left him and he reduced his crazy work sessions where he sometimes didn’t seem to come up for air.
He surprised her by taking her to the Metropolitan Opera House to see The Nutcracker, and she held his hand all the way through it, tears blurring her vision as she watched the snowflakes and the Sugar Plum Fairy and remembered all the times her grandmother had taken her when she was young.
Lucas leaned closer. “I can imagine you in a tiny pink tutu and tights. I bet you were cute.”
“I was cute, but a little clumsy. I was the only Sugar Plum Fairy who fell over her own feet. I didn’t know you liked the ballet, too.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I know you do.”
She was deeply touched, not just that he’d done that for her but because he’d listened and stored the information when she’d told him she’d done this with her grandmother.
“For an arrogant cynic, you can be pretty thoughtful. And as your reward I’m going to dress up and dance for you later.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’d prefer it if you undressed and danced for me.”
He didn’t mind that she was untidy, or that she was terrible in the mornings. She didn’t mind that he locked himself away for long periods in his study.
Once he came out with a thunderous look on his face and she froze, wondering what had happened.
“You have writer’s block?”
“Have you been in my study?”
“Yes. You weren’t there but I left a plate of cookies and an herbal tea on your desk.”
“You changed my manuscript.”
“Excuse me?” Eva opened her eyes wide, trying to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sure.”
“You are a truly terrible liar. You can’t have two FBI agents hugging.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with supporting your colleagues at work? I happen to think it makes them more human. They witnessed something horrible.”
“Eva, I’m writing a horror story.”
“Well, now it’s a little less horrific. You’re welcome.”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck and looked at her in exasperation. “Eva—”
“What? I read a few pages and those two clearly have chemistry. I thought maybe they could get together and fall in love. What is wrong with trying to put something happy in your book?”
“You’ve killed the tension.”
“I have?” As someone who wasn’t good with tension, it sounded like praise. “Good.”
“It’s not good, Eva. It’s not good.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“You want me to write happy thrillers?”
“It could be a whole new genre. It might be a big hit.”
“My career would be over.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
The banter continued, and they regularly argued over their taste in music, books and movies.
She forced him to sit through While You Were Sleeping, and in return she watched Rear Window, although she had her hands over her eyes for most of the movie and insisted on sleeping with the light on afterward.
He wrapped up a night-light and gave it to her as an early Christmas gift.
“I don’t need a night-light.”
“You always sleep with the light on.”
“Only since I met you.”
When she told him she was going to do the last of her Christmas shopping, he offered to go with her.
“You can help me choose something special for my grandmother,” he said. It was the only reason he gave when she probed as to why he’d want to brave the crowds.
The blizzard had passed, leaving behind snowy streets and a perfect blue sky. The sky and sunshine made it seem like they might have been in the Mediterranean had it not been for the biting wind and bitter cold.
Eva snuggled deep into her coat and slipped her hand into his.
He closed his fingers around hers and they walked down Fifth Avenue together, past glittering shop windows illuminated by twinkling fairy lights, each telling a different story. They strolled across to Rockefeller Center to admire the towering Christmas tree and then wandered down to Bryant Park and browsed the shops that were set up for the holiday period.
Eva lingered, examining jewelry, artisan goods and local foods. She sent Lucas an apologetic glance. “Are you bored? Shopping with me is probably a whole new definition of horror for you.”
He took her bags from her. “I’m not good at Christmas shopping. If you can help me with that, then I’ll owe you a debt I can never repay.”
“You already owe me. Because of me, you won’t miss your deadline. I’m a walking miracle. How did your writing go this morning?”
“It went well. I’m on my final read. I’ll be sending it to my agent and my editor tomorrow. Thanks to you. And you’re right. You are a miracle.”
“Maybe we should forget shopping. I could take you home and perform a few more miracles.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and she snuggled closer, wishing that being with him wasn’t quite so easy. “But we can’t leave until we’ve found the perfect present for Mitzy.” She turned back to the stall and Lucas released her reluctantly.
“I have no idea what the perfect present looks like.”
“That’s why you have me.”
It was several hours later when they arrived back at the apartment. After dropping their packages in the hallway they made straight for the bedroom.
Their mouths fused, the fact that both of them knew they were coming to the end of their time together adding a touch of desperation to every encounter.
Eva knew there was little time left. A few more days and she might never see him again. A few more days, and after that he would never know how she really felt.
The words were in her head as he made love to her slowly, stretching out the moment until she was almost screaming with need. Time and time again he drove her right to the edge, and held her there, hovering in a state of breathless desperation. And she knew that there never was going to be a right moment to say what she wanted to say, so she might as well just say it because if this was going to end and she hadn’t told him how she felt, she’d always regret it.
“I love you.” She whispered the words into his neck and felt him go still. “I love you, Lucas.”
He brought his mouth down on hers, silencing her. His fingers tightened in her hair and his measured thrusts deepened and became more urgent. But he didn’t stop kissing her, as if he was afraid that if he did she might say those words again.
She didn’t, but she showed him with the arch of her body and the gentle stroke of her hand.
She felt him shudder and drive deeper still, the erotic force of each thrust sending her into the most intense orgasm of her life. She cried out and felt him shudder above her as he reached his own peak, and still he held her and kissed her until she was dizzy with it.
Afterward she lay still, weakened by pleasure, pinned by his weight and the unimaginable intimacy of being with Lucas.
She wanted it to last forever.
He was her first love, and she so badly wanted him to be her last, but if this was all they could ever have then she’d take it.
* * *
The following morning she sensed the change in him.
The warmth, the humor, the closeness, were gone. Instead his reaction to her was almost…polite.
She watched him, bemused, her insides plummeting like an elevator with mechanical failure. “Lucas?”
“This thing between us has moved into an area I never wanted it to go.”
She hadn’t expected him to be quite so direct, or say those words quite yet.
She’d been hoping for more time, even though she knew there was no more time to be had.
She wanted him to stop talking. She didn’t want to hear what he was about to say because she knew it signaled the end.
“You mean because I told you I love you? I freaked you out.”
“We’ve known each other for a month, that’s all.”
“And it’s been the best month of my life. It isn’t the length of a relationship that matters, Lucas, it’s the depth. Don’t you ever wonder why some people are together for years without ever getting married, and then one of them meets someone and that’s it. They’re married within a month.”
His face was expressionless. “Are you proposing?”
“No! I’m saying we’ve spent more time together in the past month that most people do in six months of dating. And I love you. I refuse to lie about that.” She saw the tension stamped in his handsome features.
“This can’t happen, Eva.”
“You’re saying I don’t matter to you.”
“You matter to me. But you want the fairy tale. I could never give you that.”
“Oh, Lucas.” She felt a rush of sadness and mixed in with the sadness was frustration that he still didn’t get it. “The fairy tale isn’t Prince Charming or magical unicorns. It’s love. What I want is to love someone, and for them to love me back. For me, that’s the fairy tale.”
“Love isn’t what you think it is.”
“It isn’t what you think it is. Love isn’t a curse, Lucas, it’s a gift.” She took a breath and then a risk. Why not? At this point she had nothing more to lose. “I’m offering you that gift. All of my heart, forever.”
His face was chalk white. “Eva—”
“I love you, and I know it’s been fast and maybe it’s crazy to say those words after such a short time, but I know this is real and good. We’re good. You make me happy. With you I’ve never once felt as if I had to put on an act, or hide how I was feeling. It may have been a short relationship, but it was the most honest, real relationship I’ve ever had.” She tried to explain. “Sometimes when you date someone, it takes ages to see who they really are. That didn’t happen with us. You cared how I was feeling. It was only when I was with you that I realized how exhausting it is pretending to be okay all the time, when really you don’t feel okay at all. And that’s not a reflection on my friends, it’s a reflection on me. I was the one putting pressure on myself to always be happy and positive. With you, I didn’t feel I had to do that. Thanks to you, I feel better than I have for over a year. And I’ve talked and talked and now it’s your turn.”
He wore a hunted look and the hand he dragged through his hair was unsteady. “I don’t know what to say.”
Disappointment thudded through her. “There were a few things I was hoping you’d say, and that wasn’t one of them.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and then let his hand drop. “You say I make you happy, but for how long? How long would that last? What happens when you wake up one morning and discover I don’t make you happy any longer? I don’t want to be the one who kills your optimism or your illusions. I don’t want that responsibility.”
“So don’t kill them. Tell me you love me, too, and we’ll spend the rest of our lives making each other happy.”
“You really think it’s that simple?”
“I think it can be if you let it.”
“I disagree.”
Her heart felt as if someone had crushed it.
Summoning the last of her strength, she straightened her shoulders. “I never thought you were a coward.”
“I tell you I’m protecting you, and you call me a coward?”
“We both know that the person you’re protecting is yourself. I know you loved Sallyanne. I know you grieved, and are still grieving, and I know it was complicated and messy. I understand why you’d want to protect yourself but you don’t need to, Lucas, because what we have is precious and I would never damage it.”
“But I might.”
“No.” She softened her voice because she understood what was going on in his head. “You wouldn’t do that, and deep down I think you know it, but you’re too scared to admit it.” Forcing her leaden legs to cross the room, she walked away from him toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To pack.”
“You’re walking out?” His voice was raw. “You’re leaving?”
Only if you don’t stop me.
“What is there to stay for, Lucas? The job is finished. I’ve done what you paid me to do. There’s only one other reason to stay and you don’t want that.” She was halfway up the stairs when his voice stopped her again.
“Wait!”
Hope flickered inside her like a candle that had wavered in the wind but hadn’t quite been extinguished. She turned slowly, her heart racing.
“What?”
“Stay a little longer.”
“And then what?” When he didn’t answer, she started up the stairs again, weary to the bone. “There are a lot of things in this life I’m prepared to fight for. My friends, my job, my future, but I won’t fight for your heart, Lucas. If you can’t give it willingly, then I don’t want it.”