“WE’RE GOING TO what?” I asked again, not quite believing what he’d just said.
“We are going to the movie theater,” he said and then quickly added, “Kind of.”
“How do we kind of go to the movie theater?” I sat up straighter in my bed and watched as he started shuffling through the many bags he’d brought.
“Well, obviously, Dr. Marcus would frown on me kidnapping you and taking you to a real movie,” he said, pulling out what looked like a mini DVD player and setting it on my wooden tray table.
He positioned it toward the wall, angling it just right.
“Since a night at the theater was out, I pulled some strings and managed to borrow this sweet little digital projector from the marketing department, thanks to a favor by HR. So, tonight, we are going to watch a movie of your choice on the big screen—or as big as we can make it,” he added.
He flipped a switch, and a bright white square appeared on the blank wall across from me.
“Oh my gosh, are you kidding me?” I nearly squealed.
After he finished setting up the projector, he turned around and smiled. “I know it’s not quite your number seventy-one, but I figured we could count it as a placeholder until we manage to blow you out of this joint. Then, we could get you to an actual theater, and you can cross it off your list.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Good, but I’m not done yet,” he said, moving across the room to the paper bags from a local grocery store. “What fake theater would be complete without popcorn? I got the unsalted kind from the organic section and popped it at home. It’s probably going to taste like shit, but at least you’ll be able to eat it. Also, I got you M&M’s and pudding, of course.”
He brought over a huge bag and upended it on the bed, causing me to laugh. Pre-popped popcorn in plastic bags as well as large bags of M&M’s—both plain and peanut—and lots of pudding came tumbling out.
“You’re crazy,” I said.
“I’ve heard that a lot today. So, what do you want to watch, angel?”
He jogged back over to the black bag that had held the projector and removed a sleek black laptop. A little hospital logo was affixed to the top. Apparently, the favor in HR also included a laptop.
“I don’t know. What are my selections?”
“Well, I took the liberty of asking Grace what your favorites were, and she volunteered to bring in several during her lunch break,” he said, pulling out a case filled with DVDs. “She also threw in a few extras. Pick whatever you want.”
I opened the leather case stuffed full of DVDs, and I wasn’t surprised to see that Grace had shoved Frozen in the first plastic slot. I snorted and moved on, overwhelmed by Grace’s generosity. She’d managed to gather up all my well-known favorites like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Dirty Dancing as well as others I’d been dying to see but hadn’t managed to see just yet.
“This one,” I said, pointing to my selection.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. Have you?” he asked, sliding the shiny disk out of its clear plastic home.
I shook my head, and he set everything up before joining me back on the bed. I began scooting over to give him more room on my small twin-sized hospital mattress, but he just pulled me back over before pulling the covers over my bare legs. Then, he grabbed a bag of popcorn for us to share.
“So, my little bookworm picks a movie about the world’s most famous playwright,” he said.
The opening title of Shakespeare in Love scrolled across the screen—or wall.
“It’s all fiction, I’m sure, but I like the idea of him basing some of his most famous works on his own life.”
Jude was right. The popcorn wasn’t fantastic, but I was used to eating bland food. A couple of M&M’s and a few kernels of popcorn made a good combination, and soon, I was engrossed in the dramatic life of William Shakespeare.
Gwyneth Paltrow’s character, Viola had bound herself, dressing like a man to cover her high-society female form, so she could act in Romeo and Juliet. When her deceit is discovered, a fiery love scene quickly follows.
My eyes wandered over to the curve of Jude’s strong jaw. He’d shaved since this morning. When he’d kissed me, I’d touched his jaw where my eyes now lingered, loving the raw, masculine feel of his unshaven skin against mine. It was so foreign and unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I yearned for more.
“You’re not watching the movie anymore,” Jude whispered.
“Yes, I am,” I answered, quickly glancing back up to the movie.
William was unwrapping the binding from Viola’s body as she turned and laughed. He was completely enraptured by her, watching her, as she spun playfully until he finally dropped the last of the cloth and took her into his arms.
“No, you were staring at me.” His tone was hushed as the love scene played on.
My breath hitched the moment I felt his finger brush against the fabric covering my collarbone, and I shivered as he brushed away loose strands of my hair.
“What were you thinking about?” he asked softly. I turned to find his intense gaze settled on mine.
“When you kissed me this morning,” I replied, completely forgetting about the movie playing before us. My eyes shifted to his beautiful full lips, and I felt my tongue dart out to wet my own.
“Would you like me to kiss you again, Lailah?”
“Yes,” I answered, the soft sound coming out more like a plea.
“Here?”
The pad of his thumb caressed the sensitive pink flesh of my lower lip as he hovered above me. He didn’t wait for an answer, and his mouth descended upon mine. Soft and gentle, he kissed me with aching tenderness that made my heart leap. His arms moved to cradle my body, and he pulled me closer. Then, I felt the warmth of his hand move to my neck.
“How about here?” he murmured against the hollow of my throat.
Rather than answer, I turned my head, exposing more skin. His head moved downward, and his tongue licked a scorching path across my ivory flesh. As his hand neared the hem of my shirt, my breath caught, and his fingers halted.
His eyes met mine. “You just tensed up. Did I make you uncomfortable?”
I shook my head, but my dismissal of the situation didn’t go unnoticed.
He quickly sat up. “Lailah,” he pleaded, “talk to me.”
I rubbed my hands together, avoiding his gaze. “I’m severely scarred,” I finally admitted.
Will he look at me differently now that he knows?
I was different though. He’d always known that.
But now that he knew I have physical proof, will it change how he looks at me? Will there be pity in his eyes or sorrow in the way he views my situation?
I’d seen the sad, empathetic looks from everyone else since the day I was born. I’d gotten the shoulder pats and stray tears from those who thought I’d been given the short end at life.
Will he join them once he sees the jagged scar running down my chest?
When he didn’t respond, I gathered the courage for a brief glance at him, and I was met with a penetrating warm gaze.
“We all have scars, Lailah. Some are just more visible than others.”
“What are your scars, Jude?” I asked, surprised and scared by my own words.
His eyes unfocused for a brief moment as if he’d lost focus with reality. When he finally snapped back, he gave a faint smile. “I’m hiding in plain sight, remember? I’m the estranged heir to a multibillion-dollar fortune. Can’t get much more scarred than that.”
My eyes wandered over his inked forearms. The swirling black patterns seemed to have no direction, no purpose. They just meandered down his arms without end.
Did he really ink his skin and change his appearance to disappear from society? Or was he trying to disappear from himself?
“Will you show me?” he asked hesitantly, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a knife.
My hands went to the lower hem of my T-shirt, and I took a deep breath of air, squeezing my eyes shut. I never wore a button-down or a V-neck, so in order to show him, I had to show him all of me.
Warm hands covered mine, and I opened my eyes to find his milky-green irises.
“Let me help you.” His fingers grazed my sides as he took the fabric in his hands before lifting my shirt over my head.
My heart beat faster, and I took several slow breaths to steady it. As soon as the fabric cleared my head, I instinctually moved to cover the pink line between my breasts that I’d had since birth. The same scar had been enlarged and modified with each surgery, growing along with me as I aged.
“Don’t cover yourself,” Jude said softly, pulling my hands away from my body. “You’re beautiful.”
His eyes were everywhere, and that astonished me. When I was shirtless, my scar always took center stage. It screamed for attention. Even medically trained doctors were drawn to it.
The moment Jude’s eyes fell on my half-naked body, he saw me, just me. He didn’t see my scar or a broken girl with no hope for the future. He saw me, and in his eyes, I saw passion and heat, no sorrow or pity.
“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, tracing his fingers over the pink skin.
My eyes fluttered close, and I moaned when his tongue traced the edge of my bra, leaving a wet trail across my breast and up to my mouth. Our legs and bodies quickly intertwined as our kiss intensified. His tongue tangled with mine, over and over, as I moved against him. I felt him harden against me, and rather than blush, I kissed him again, finally understanding what it felt like to use this womanly body I’d been given. His wandering touch slowed, and his frenzied kiss began to fade until he pulled back entirely.
“We need to slow down,” he said, smoothing back a few wild wisps of my hair, as he gently smiled down at me.
I nodded, dodging his green gaze, as I searched for my shirt.
“Lailah, look at me.”
I didn’t. I just continued my hunt until gentle fingers turned my head.
“What did I say? Tell me what I did wrong.”
“Would you have stopped if I were anyone else, Jude?” I asked, folding my hands over my plain white cotton bra. It was the same boring bra my mom had been buying for me since I was thirteen.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t want to be treated any differently,” I spit, finally finding my T-shirt wadded up near my feet.
I bent over to pick it up, but Jude stopped me midway.
“Well, deal with it,” he bit back. “I will treat you differently, not because of your heart problem or the fact that you think you’re physically fragile or weak. I’ll treat you differently because you’re different to me. You matter to me. I will not take your virginity in some random hospital when you’re still recovering from a virus that nearly killed you. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, yeah, I’ll continue to treat you differently because I think you are worthy of more.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I said, stumbling over my words. “I thought—”
“You assumed I stopped because I thought you were so innocent and fragile? The girl writhing and moaning underneath me was neither of those things. I want you, Lailah. I want all of you in every way, but it won’t be here, not like this. I want you slow and tender, fast and hard, and everything in between. When we come together, it will be miles from this place, and I will spend hours helping you cross out that number on your list,” he said with a wink.
I opened my mouth to chastise him, but he spoke before I had the chance, “I know it’s got to be on there somewhere.”
“It is,” I answered. “Number one hundred and twenty-one.”
He smiled and bent down to brush a kiss across my lips.
“So, not number one then?” He reached back to grab my shirt and handed it to me.
“Nope.”
“What could be better than sex?” he joked, the little dimple on his cheek reappearing as he watched the soft cotton fabric float back over my skin.
“Hmm…I don’t know. Guess you’ll just have to find out.”
I want all of you in every way.
Jude’s heated words had continued to play through my mind well after he’d left, and they had been with me again as I rose the next morning.
Slow and tender…fast and hard.
I’d been a mindless, drooling puddle ever since. I couldn’t even remember what I’d eaten for breakfast. I’d been staring at the same blank page of my journal for well over an hour when my mother waltzed through the door.
“You’re here early,” I said, noting her dressed-down appearance. She was in jeans and a flowery blouse. It was different from the business-casual look she would wear when teaching.
“I canceled my classes today,” she said with a flick of her hand as she settled into the worn blue chair.
“You canceled your classes?” I repeated, tilting my head in shocked surprise.
Unless I was going into surgery or there was an emergency, my mom never canceled class. Her students must be rejoicing today.
“Yes, I wanted to speak to you—alone,” she answered, giving the last word specific emphasis.
“I see.”
Here it comes.
“I did a bit of research on your friend Jude,” she began.
“You did research, Mom?” I asked, holding up my hand to silence her.
“I Googled him.”
A small snort morphed into full-out laughter, and I wrapped my arms around my sides in an attempt to control the roaring inferno. “You…used Google?”
My mom was a teacher, a professor, but she hadn’t quite graduated to the twenty-first century. She carried a cell phone for emergencies. It flipped open and had exactly three numbers programmed into it—the hospital, our home, and Dr. Marcus. The laptop I owned had been given to her by a colleague when he decided to upgrade. My mom had taken one look at the thing and cringed. She used a desktop computer at work and considered it punishment.
According to my mother, all research should be done in a library. Google was for morons and perverts. The fact that she’d used it to look up Jude meant she was flustered and seriously frustrated.
“Yes, I was curious about the boy you’ve been spending so much time with.”
“Mom, he’s twenty-five. He’s hardly a boy.”
She ignored my comment and continued to watch me from her tattered blue throne. “Do you think he’ll take care of you? Is that what this is all about? He’s wealthy and powerful, so you think he’ll protect you?”
I stared at her, my mouth agape, before I let the shock wear off. “Is that what you think of me? What you think of him?”
“I don’t know him,” she answered.
“No, but you know me. Do you think I’d do that? Hand myself over on a silver platter?” I spit.
“I did,” she said softly.
“What?”
“Men promise all sorts of things when they want something, especially when it involves a woman. Your father was no different.”
My breath hitched when I heard her mention him. In my twenty-two years on this earth, she’d only ever spoken about him a handful of times. She never brought him up herself, and she always quickly dismissed the subject of him. The majority of what I knew about the man were small things I’d learned from medical records.
“From the moment we met, I was completely infatuated with him. He made me feel reckless with his constant pursuit. He promised me the moon and the stars, and I believed every word. He said he’d always protect me, but when I became pregnant, he vanished, just like his false promises.”
“Mom…” I started, my voice hoarse from the unshed tears I was holding back for the pain my mother had suffered. “Not all men are like my father.” I realized then that even after that heartfelt story, she still hadn’t revealed his name to me. The only father I knew was faceless and without a name.
“How can you be so sure?” she asked, leaning forward to take my hand in her own.
“I don’t think anyone can be. But isn’t that what life is all about? Taking a risk on something? Someone? Jude is a wonderful person, Mom—a very poor, penniless person,” I added.
Her eyes went wide. “But I thought…he looks so much like…” she stammered.
“He is. That is him. Your Google skills are fine. It’s a long story and one you should probably ask him yourself, but just know that I don’t expect anything from him, and he doesn’t expect anything in return. I know this is stressful for you. I understand that I’m disrupting your sense of control, but please, Mom, let me take this risk, let me love someone.”
She nodded, rising from her seat to join me on the bed. I willingly let her pull me into her arms, loving the way I still fit into her small frame. She was controlling and overbearing at times, but she was my mom. She was my home, and everything she’d done since the moment I came screaming into this world had been because she loved me.
“Just be careful, my little angel.”
I smiled against her chest, remembering how Jude had called me that same sweet thing mere hours earlier. Mom had named me Lailah after the Hebrew angel of pregnancy. When she’d discovered my heart defect during a routine ultrasound, she’d wanted to give me a name that was strong and hopeful. She might not be a religious person, but I thought it was somehow her way of asking for a bit of help to whoever might be listening.
“I will, Mom, I promise.”
She gave me a small squeeze, and I closed my eyes, knowing I’d lied to my mother.
There was nothing careful about falling in love.