Page 92 of Turning Back

“I do,” I say, just as the valets appear, opening our doors. I hand off the keys, tip the kid, and meet Rochelle on the other side of the truck.

We walk through the lobby and get on the higher-floor elevator using my access card.

“This is pretty fancy, Quin,” Rochelle says.

We both watch the digital numbers ping off as we ascend to the penthouse, and when the doors open, I wave her forward into the condo.

“Wow,” she says, automatically walking towards the fourteen-foot, floor-to-ceiling windows. I have never had a visitor up here, aside from my mother—and she doesn’t count—but I imagine this is everyone’s first reaction. It was mine, for sure. “Holy… I love this.”

I walk over to her and take off her coat. I drape it over a dining room chair and then take mine off as well. “This isn’t the surprise, but since it’s your first time here and all, I’ll give you the tour.” I turn us around so we’re facing the great room and pan my hands. “Voilà.” Rochelle giggles. Because a tour isn’t really necessary. It’s just a giant room with fourteen-foot ceilings that holds the ultra-modern kitchen, the dining room space, and the living room. I have ten pieces of furniture in this massive room, and four of those pieces are barstools pushed up against the kitchen island. “It really needs a woman’s touch,” I joke.

Rochelle hangs on my arm and laughs. “Well, I love it.”

“The bedroom is next.”

“Is that where my surprise is?” she asks, as we walk down the hallway.

“Just wait.”

The guest bedroom has the same wow factor. Or lack of it. The windows and the view of the buildings outside are the only thing worth noting. I have nothing in there at all. No guests stay here.

The master bedroom does have a bed, since I do—did—sleep here. And a long dresser where I empty my pockets every night. Other than that, there’s not much else to say about it. Elias Bricman, I am not. But again, the windows are the only thing people see. The view is the only thing they care about. Especially at night.

Tonight, though. There is one extra thing in my bedroom. A gift on the bed with Rochelle’s name on it.

“What is this?” she asks, picking up the box and shaking it.

“I missed last Christmas. I wish I could say this is what I had planned on giving you, but I’d be lying. I had a trip planned.”

She pouts her lip.

“I was going to take you somewhere far. Not a place we can drive to in twelve hours.” Which was our limit since we never had more than three days in a row together.

“Where?” she asks, putting down the box and turning to face me. “Where would I have been last Christmas if I had stayed put?”

I shrug. “It was going to be your choice. Wherever you wanted. I was going to ask you if you wanted to leave the game with me.”

She pouts again.

“I was going to make you put your finger on a globe and choose a place. Two weeks alone. Fourteen days in a row. No Bric, no Smith, no Club, no rules.”

“And I fucked it all up.”

It’s my turn to shrug. “It’s in the past now. And anyway, I didn’t bring you here to make you feel bad. I brought you here to make you feel better. Open the present and I’ll show you.”

She walks over to the bed and sits down. Places the white box in her lap and pulls on the red ribbon. Lifts the lid. Opens up the tissue paper. Pulls out…

“A bathing suit?” She gives me a weird look. “Are we going on vacation tonight?”

I nod, smiling. “Yup. Right here, right now, I’m taking you somewhere else.” I place both hands on her shoulders and turn her gently around so she’s got her back to me. I unclasp the thin diamond belt at her waist and place it on the dresser. She pulls her hair aside, revealing the back of her neck to me, and I remove the choker. She takes off the earrings as I unzip her dress and let it fall over her hips and puddle at the floor.

Her panties follow and she stands there naked. Little goosebumps rise up her arms and she shivers.

Her shoes come off and she is three inches shorter.

I reach for the white bikini and turn Rochelle so she’s facing me. “Put your hand right here,” I say, motioning to my shoulder as I kneel down.

She smiles, blushes. But obeys. Her warm hand presses down on my shoulder and then she steps into the bikini bottoms and I pull them up.