"Dad!" He set down the paper he was reading as soon as he heard the front door. He had his arms open, ready for her. "I can't believe Gillian had to go through all that!" She launched herself into a bear hug with him, tears flowing freely.
"I guess I don't have to ask how lunch went."
"It's just so sad! That's why she can't have children. It's not fair, Dad!"
"No, love, it's not. If there ever was someone meant to be a mother, it's Gillian."
Emily pulled back from his embrace and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry I was such a brat about the homecoming dance. But, you know, if you had told me the whole story . . ."
"It wasn't my story to tell."
"No, I guess it wasn't." she sighed. "I'm so glad we were there for her. She said you saved her."
"She was just being kind, love. She did all the hard work."
"Dad, Gillian told me the whole story. How you found the therapist for her. You made sure she went to all her appointments. You sat up with her all those times when she had the nightmares. You were a rock – her words, not mine. She said you were incredible and it was the way she said it . . . she wasn't just being kind."
"Well, that part's not important, Em. Her reason for telling you was so that you can know how to protect yourself from anything like that ever happening to you."
"Oh, Dad. I get it. Believe me, I get it. You've told me before that there are some people out there who are predators, but I never really thought someone I know could get hurt like that. What happened to Gillian was just so freaky and tragic and awful. I mean whoever spiked that drink wasn't even after Gillian, and that other girl will never know what almost happened to her. I won't ever forget this. A simple college party, and her whole life changed. You just can't be too careful." She hugged her dad again and looked at her watch. "It's already 1:30. I'd better go pack up stuff to take to Mom's. Can you drive me over in a couple of hours?" She smiled slyly. "Unless you're going to let me take the car?"
"Nice try, Emily. You haven't had your license long enough to take the car all the way to your mum's house. I'll drive you. What time are Max and his parents picking you up there?"
"The dance starts at 6:30, and the chaperones have to be there right on time. They mentioned a corsage so I know we'll have to take pictures first. You know, the whole awkward 'Does he know how to pin it on?' pose," she rolled her eyes at the prospect. "They said 5:45."
"And what time did your mom set for curfew?"
"Midnight, Dad, like every other Saturday night."
"Just checking." He threw up his hands in mock surrender.
She started up the stairs, climbing three of them before stopping. "Hey, Dad, did you know Gillian is going out on a date tonight?"
"Really?" He kept his back to her.
"Yeah, I invited her to come in, but she said she had to get ready for it. Do you know whom she's dating?"
"None of your business, love." He refolded the newspaper and straightened the already neat pile of magazines on the coffee table.
"I was just thinking that if you were to ask her . . ."
"Emily, go pack."
"You're making a big mistake, Dad." She ran up the stairs, oblivious to the large grin Cal couldn't mask.
By 7 p.m. Cal's plans were in place and he was standing in front of Gillian's door getting ready to knock. He'd never admit it under penalty of death, but he changed three times, finally wearing crisp blue jeans with a sweater and sports coat. Gillian answered quickly, inviting him in while she finished accessorizing and grabbed her purse. She looked beautiful in a long sleeve red sheath dress, the skirt flaring slightly as it brushed her knees. "You gonna be able to play billiards in that, love?" He brushed her hands away while he managed the clasp of the necklace for her.
She smiled, "Thanks. You'd be amazed what I can do in this dress, Cal."
"Are you flirting with me, Gillian?"
"If you have to ask, apparently not well enough."
He grinned. "You look beautiful. Be sure and wear a coat. Part of our evening is outside." She reached in her closet for a matching red cape.
"Did Emily get off okay?"
"I left her at her mum's with a suitcase full of girly stuff. For someone who calls Max just a friend she is certainly going all out to look nice for him."
"It's how we girls operate, Cal. I hope she has fun."
He pulled her to the couch for a moment. "Your talk with her really made an impact. I know it couldn't have been easy for you. Thanks, Gill."
She blushed slightly, but kept his eye contact. "When I was talking to her, I realized there was something I hadn't yet said to you. I don't think I have ever fully thanked you for being there this whole time. I know there were lots of moments when others would have walked away." He shook his head. "Cal, you got the full brunt of all those years of pent-up anger and you stayed by my side when I tried to push you away. You've been my rock, my safety net, my sanctuary, sometimes a pain in my ass." She grinned and he chuckled. "Thank you." Now it was his turn to blush as she hugged him.
His voice was a little gruff. "Okay, enough of that maudlin stuff. We've got a date to go on." They were already laughing as he walked her to his car. She checked the back seat while he opened her door – not a piece of trash or paper in sight. They took a familiar route. "Have to head to the office, love." He parked and grabbed her hand as they walked into the lobby, past their offices and out onto the balcony where a table was set.
"Cal! When did you have time to do this? It's beautiful!" She walked over to the table, noting the linen tablecloth and napkins, the rose buds just starting to open as they floated in a shallow vase of water, the fine china and stemware. Her smile was one of genuine surprise and delight. His was one of quiet triumph.
"Had a few hours to myself after dropping Emily off at Zoe's. Found Loker here so had some slave labor. Had to pay him $50 to scram, though."
"What made you think of this?"
"Well, a restaurant's so boring and crowded and they couldn't guarantee us a view like that one."
"I'll never come out here again without thinking about this."
"Yeah," he nodded. "And you like to come out here a lot."
"Cal, you are a closet romantic."
"Nah. Self-interest really: I know what makes you happy." He pulled out a chair for her and walked back over to the stairs. Only then did she see the insulated coolers. He opened one and pulled out the wine, bringing it back to the table to uncork it. "We'll just let that sit for a moment." He opened the other to unload take-out containers. "La Strada work for you?"
"Oh, Cal, you know Italian is my favorite. Do you want some help?"
"No, no, you just relax." By the time he set out the appetizers and bread and prepared the dipping oil, the wine had breathed. They toasted, smiling at each other like Cheshire cats.
After she took a sip, she set down her glass with a shake of her head. "I can't believe you pulled this off."
"I'm a man of many talents." He served their food. "So talk to me." And she did. They rarely stopped, even as their food eventually got cold. They ate and drank and laughed until finally, "Did you save room for dessert? Ah, stupid question. Come with me." He grabbed her hand and took her back to his office.
"You didn't!" she exclaimed as he opened the little fridge he kept in his library. With a flourish and a bow, he presented the crystal bowl to her.
"Mrs. Marsh's grandmother's chocolate mousse recipe. We have bowls and spoons by the couch." He led her to his sofa, which had been moved to be in perfect view of the large screen on his wall. As he divvied up dessert, she took off her coat, slipped off her heels and made herself comfortable on the sofa, curling her feet underneath her. There was a DVD case on the coffee table. She picked it up to read front and back.
"Everyone Says I Love You?"
"The clerk suggested it. A love story and one of the characters is some sort of escaped convict. Something for both of us." Gillian stifled a chuckle. Clearly Cal hadn't read the description. "Move over, love." Cal set down the bowls, stripped off his sports coat, and plopped himself in the middle of the sofa, pulling her to him until she was practically sitting on his lap. He handed her a bowl with a generous portion of mousse topped with whipped cream and a strawberry and hit the remote to start the movie. She managed to keep her composure until his spoon clattered in his bowl. "They're singing. Why are they singing?"
"It's a musical, Cal." The look on his face was her undoing. She was in tears before she could catch her breath.
"You're bloody well enjoying this, aren't you?" His tone was bemused.
She nodded, still unsure of her ability to speak. They continued to watch, and she was having as much enjoyment from Cal's low mutterings as from the film itself. When the convict came on again, she cried, "Cal, check out that actor. He looks like your twin."
"He's. Singing." Only Cal could make it sound like an epithet.
"And he's pretty good at it." She grinned when he snorted. "Just look at him, Cal. You could be brothers."
"Well, I told you my dad got around. It wouldn't surprise me."
She hugged against him a little tighter when he mentioned his dad. She looked at him, trying to gauge whether he was saddened by the thought of his father, but he was looking at her with a grin. As their eyes met and held, he slowly took her now empty bowl and placed it on the coffee table. He closed the gap between them and kissed her.
It started slowly, just feather-light kisses, but soon he was outlining her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth slightly to give him entrance. While he gave her a long, slow, wet kiss, he had one arm around her shoulders and the other stroked her cheek and hair. Her hands were resting on his chest. He tried to pull away to see her expression, but she followed him, keeping their bodies in close contact and refusing to break the kiss. Soon her hands became restless, pulling at his sweater to feel his skin, her hands caressing his back and shoulders. She heard her zipper as it moved and she shivered at the slight chill on her bare back before his hands warmed her. She felt herself being lowered onto the sofa and she pulled him with her until he was lying on top of her. Just as she began to remove his sweater so that she could massage his chest with her hands, he pulled away. Breathing heavily, he caught her hands in his to stop their movement as he whispered in her ear, "No, love. No. Not here."
She was surprised and a little anxious. "Did I do something wrong?"
"God no, love. It's just . . . I don't want our first time to be a quick fumble on the couch." He pulled her back up in a sitting position, but kept her touching as much of him as possible. He kissed her again as he reluctantly zipped up her dress.
Because she could see the desire written all over his face, she didn't feel rejected. "Exactly what do you mean by 'quick'?" she asked coyly.
He laughed. "I don't think you'll have any complaints when it happens." He pulled her to her feet and kept his arms wrapped lightly around her while he kissed her again.
"Well, 'when' is an interesting question." She stepped closer to him, pressing her upper body into his.
He groaned. "Don't tempt me, Gill." He kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss, but before she could reach for his sweater he pulled away until he was just holding her hands. "I want to wait, love."
"Why? Is this because . . ."
"No." He said that emphatically, and she knew he was telling the truth.
"I thought you didn't think of me as the good girl."
He kissed her fingers. "Not that either, love. Call me old-fashioned or presumptuous if you like, but when I finally have you in my bed, I'm not letting you go and I've a sixteen year old daughter who will catch on when you're there for breakfast."
Her eyes widened with understanding. "You mean you want to wait wait."
He nodded. "I'm as stunned as you are, Gill, but I know that if I made love to you tonight I wouldn't ever let you spend another night alone in your apartment."
She already knew the answer, but she had to ask again. "You're sure this doesn't have anything to do with my being raped?"
His grip on her hands tightened slightly. "Look at me, love." She saw Cal completely unmasked. "This is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. Because you are so dammed sexy and warm and inviting and lovely. Part of me is screaming, 'To hell with it' and wants to drag you back to that couch, but I love you and I don't want to screw this up."
She smiled in wonder at this man. He would always have the ability to surprise her. "I love you, too." She slowly put her arms around his neck, and they met again to kiss. Once, twice, three times, until . . .
"Aauugghh! I need cold air." He grabbed her hands and pulled her back to the balcony. They both faced the capitol, although neither was cognizant of the view. He stood in front of her, but had pulled her arms around him so that she was wrapped around his middle, her cheek resting on his back and shoulder. "You might be the death of me, woman."
She whispered in his ear. "Is it okay if I try to change your mind every so often?"
He turned and grinned wolfishly. "I wouldn't have it any other way." As they smiled at each other, they could hear faint music from the movie still playing in his office. He pulled her to him and began to sway back and forth. Even when the movie ended, they could still be seen dancing. And if you listened really closely, you could hear him humming just so the music wouldn't end and they wouldn't have to let go.