Page 11 of Be My Summer

“What things?”

“Relationships.”

Chuckling, I turned to find him armed with a handsome smile, a fresh haircut, flowers, and a gift bag.

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Not yet, but I’ve heard that if you treat the thing you want as if it’s already yours, then it will be.”

“I’ve heard the same.”

“So, you won’t find it difficult to understand.”

I shook my head.

“I won’t.”

Silence toyed with my lips. Saul’s eyes were trained on me. Unmoving. Not blinking.

They were wide with curiosity. Sparkling with admiration.

“We should head inside.”

I agreed by lifting my head and then letting it fall slowly.

“For you.”

He extended his hand, offering me the bouquet of tulips. They’d bloomed so beautifully.

“Tulips.”

“Felt more true to your nature than roses.”

“You’re not wrong, Mister Saul.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t want to be.”

His hand never rejoined his side. Instead, it remained hoisted in the air, awaiting mine. I pressed our palms together and threaded my fingers between his.

Instantly, all that was out of order found its place. All that was wrong was made right. All that was blurry cleared. All that was evil was good. All that was hurting was healed.

My vintage Chanel mules got better acquainted with the curves of my feet as we started in the direction of Solo ArtHouse. The consignment store where I’d found them was such a precious gem in my arsenal and I could hardly wait to revisit. Everything was so carefully preserved. Unfortunately, my sanity didn’t have the same fate as the pieces, because I lost it each time I stepped inside.

“Good evening, ma’am. Sir.”

The doors parted as the doorman greeted us.

“Evening.”

“Good evening.” My response came immediately after Saul’s.

An egregious scent met us as our feet crossed the threshold. My nostrils flared as I retrieved my fingers from Saul’s embrace. I clipped the breaths I was taking, hoping to keep my lungs free of the faulty air.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am… Sir. We’re shutting down for the day. One of our ovens has caught fir–”

Simultaneously, our bodies turned around. Neither of us was interested in conversing with the hostess, who looked flushed and overwhelmed with whatever was happening behind the scenes.

“I apologize.”