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And wishes didn’t magically make Karl interested in taking him to the American Museum of Natural History. No, he’d had to wait for a school field trip. And forget about riding Le Carrousel in Bryant Park—he’d been too old when he finally did see it, coaxed onto the horse only because Arun’s younger siblings had begged him to join. And even then, it had been Arun’s parents who had waved to him. Not his.
No, wishes were for children who hadn’t yet learned that it was better to have goals.
Goals like not needing anybody who didn’t need him.
“Ves?” Elisha prompts, startling him back to attention.
After a long moment, he says, “Different boroughs. After the divorce, it was more practical for me to attend one school for stability.” He thinks the explanation is more than sufficient, but she’s still waiting, holding her camera like it could bite her. Not snapping pictures, even though that’s what they came here for.
It’s as though she’s waiting for him to say something else. Something more. It’s what she always wants from him, he realizes. Just that little bit more than he’s ready or willing to give.
It should terrify him. It should irritate him. It should be a hell of a lot of things, but not the one thing that it is: exciting.
This woman is practically a stranger. So why should he want to rise to the challenge and actually meet her expectations? No, not meet. Exceed. He’s never been so infatuated, so intrigued with someone he barely knows. But is she really a stranger?
She’s impulsive and she’s generous and she’s got the biggest heart of anyone he knows. She loves to eat, relishing bold flavors, and she likes her cocktails sweet and boozy. She’s never dressed for the weather but always makes him feel warm all over. She gets defensive about romance books, and she loves being right. She cares about a movie Ves has never seen and a great-aunt he’s ashamed to say that he barely knew. And, most surprising of all, she cares about him. When he’s given her no reason to.
What surprises him is how much he wants her to keep doing it.
He shouldn’t need this woman.
And yet he does.
Ves’s decision is made in an instant. In a millionth of an instant.
“Okay,” he finds himself saying. “Let’s do it. You and me, no strings attached.”
He knows he’s made the right choice when Elisha’s smile drop-kicks his heart straight into his throat.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elisha
After work the next day, Elisha practices what she’s going to say before she rings Ves’s doorbell. Now that they’re “together,” it can’t be as simple as “Hi.” Maybe she should go for a kiss on the lips? Just a peck. Or maybe more? Definitely no tongue. Not on the doorstep, anyway. Better yet, she’ll keep it casual.
But that’s a bit hard to do when she’s wrangling way too many anxious thoughts and a basket full of cats.
As she’s alternating between “Hi” and “Hello” in her head, she tilts her gaze up and squints at the fir needles and classic red bow greeting her at the front door. A wreath.
She’s quite sure that it’s not one of Maeve’s, and it certainly wasn’t there when she left for work in the morning. The design is simple. If it were her, she would have gone for a fancier ribbon, maybe a velvet one with gold trim, juniper berries, and frosted pine cones. But she can see how Ves would pick this one; it’s traditional and not overly adorned, much like the man himself. A smile grows on her face.
“Hello,” she starts again. No, too formal. Breezy would be better, but after she’s been unable to get him out of her head all Monday, it’s not looking remotely in the realm of possibility. “Hey,” she tries. Yes, that’s an improvement!
“Are you having a conversation with yourself?”
She spins—well, as much as she can when her arms are full—and comes face to face with Ves. “Hi. Hey. Um.” Her eyes hastily avoid the amused curve of his mouth and drop to the reusable bags he’s carrying. He’s gone to the gourmet grocery, unsurprisingly. He probably has fancy cheeses and alcohol with a vintage older than 2018 in there.
“Sorry,” he says, shuffling past her to unlock the door. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“No, not long.” She hovers behind him, shifting the weight of the basket from arm to arm, not sure what to do when he steps aside and lofts a brow at her. She stares back in confusion. “What?”
Ves swings the arm holding two bags toward the open door. Then uses his foot to kick it open a little wider. Her cheeks burn and it has nothing to do with the way the wind has suddenly picked up.
“Oh,” she says, embarrassed that he was waiting for her to go in first, and she hadn’t even realized. She scrambles across the threshold, toeing off her shoes at the door while he locks the door behind them. “New wreath? It’s very you.”
“Just doing my bit for the neighborhood,” he replies diffidently, but he looks pleased she noticed.
“Well, I feel more cheerful already,” she says brightly.
