CECILY CHECKED HER reflection in the full-length mirror of her bedroom one last time later that evening. She wore an eye-popping poppy-red strapless sundress that clung to her curves, the A-line skirt flaring just above the knee. She’d wondered for the briefest of seconds if it was too daring, too Marilyn Monroe, but that was exactly what she was going for: daring and bold. Bright red lipstick marked her lips, and a cat-eye liner completed the look. Liam had told her the dinner was formal, so she wore black patent-leather peep-toe heels that in her mind screamed sex. As much as she was looking forward to a nice dinner, what she really wanted was to get Liam back into her bed, melt into his arms and let her problems burn away.
She leaned in closer to the mirror, carefully fluffing her hair, trying to infuse body into her delicate gold waves. She tried not to think about what would’ve happened if the doctors had told her the chemo or radiation would work. She hadn’t wanted to imagine her hair coming out by the handful. It’ll only make you sick, but we don’t think it will help. You might get six more months, maybe ten. But those won’t be good months.
She ought to be worried about how she’d pay for her half of dinner tonight, but she’d decided just to put away her worries for a while. If she didn’t live while she still had good days left, then what was the point? She had a small bit of retirement savings, and since she wasn’t going to be old enough to enjoy retirement, she might as well use it now.
She took a deep breath, willing herself not to think about it. Tonight, she would be normal. She would forget her troubles because she was going out. Like normal people did. Except, she reminded herself, she’d be with one of the most gorgeous, amazing men she’d ever met. Nothing about Liam Lange was normal—not his intense brown-eyed stare, or the fact he was a walking bundle of contradictions. Gruff on the outside, a soft heart, she was beginning to suspect, on the inside. Most men would’ve gone running for the door at the very hint of a complication as serious as cancer. Not Liam. Instead of running, he’d asked her on a date. There was something grounding about Liam, something solid that she desperately needed right now.
Her apartment buzzer rang then, and she skipped to it, eagerly hitting the button that would let Liam in. She grabbed her small black leather cross-body bag and slipped it over her head, noticing that Tripp sat at the door. He sat licking his paw. He glanced up long enough to give her a quick once-over. He yawned, uninterested, but she took it to mean he approved.
Cecily heard heavy feet on the stairs and swung open the door in time to see a freshly showered and shaved Liam stride up to her door. He wore a pristinely tailored suit, complete with tie, and for a full second, she forgot to breathe. He didn’t look like the rough-around-the-edges roofer he claimed to be. His eyes widened as he saw her, and his pace slowed.
“You look...beautiful.” The way he said it, awed, almost with a reverential tone, made her heart tick up a notch.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” He’d made it to the landing and now she glanced upward, more than aware of how tall he was, how broad. Could he feel the current between them? Built-up electricity, like a living thing, a live wire, unpredictable and dangerous. Who needed a date? What she wanted was to rip his clothes off and take him to her bed.
“I clean up okay,” he admitted, as a sly smile crept across his face.
“More than okay.”
“You’re...gorgeous, Cecily.” She knew he meant it, as his eyes drank her in. She could see the thirst in them, the want. It made the backs of her knees tingle.
She moved closer, and he took her into his arms, unable to resist the pull any longer. She tilted her head up for a hello kiss and he pressed his lips to hers. Soft, insistent and so very, very welcoming. The contact sent a bolt of electricity down her back, landing at her knees that felt a little like jelly. God, the man could kiss. She entwined her hands behind his neck, pressing tighter against him.
He broke free, breathing hard. “If you keep that up, we’ll never leave,” he said.
“Maybe we should stay in.”
He looked tempted, more than tempted, but he shook his head. “No. You wanted normal, and you’re going to get normal.” He took her by the hand and tugged her out of her apartment. She laughed as she went. “Besides, we can’t let you sit at home looking that stunning. It just wouldn’t be right. I want everyone to see you on my arm. Every straight man out there will die of jealousy.”
She laughed. “Where are we headed?”
“I told you. It’s a surprise.” They trotted down the stairs, to the waiting rideshare below. “I thought we’d have wine at dinner,” he added, nodding at the car.
“Sounds wonderful to me.” She slid into the back of the car, stomach buzzing with excitement, as Liam took a seat next to her. The driver gave her a swift nod, and then they were off. Liam squeezed her hand.
After a short drive, they pulled up to GNT. Cecily’s eyes grew wide as she stepped out of the car. “We’re going here?” she asked, still not quite believing it. GNT was a five-star, uber-expensive, gastropub restaurant that had a two-month waiting list to get in. It was the kind of place that had no prices on the menu because everything was expensive. The kind of place she wouldn’t dream of going herself. “How did you get a table?”
“I have friends,” he said mysteriously, and then held the ornately carved wooden door open for her. Inside the darkened, small and intimate space, a maître d’ in an expensive, tailored suit met them, ushering them to a small corner table, where the candlelight flickered. She took the seat the maître d’ held out to her and then he slid her in, as Liam sat down. A small, paper-thin menu was presented to them then, a list of a prix fixe menu, and the only prices on the list were an added wine pairing. Her throat went dry when she saw that the wine alone with dinner would add $150 to the bill. She wondered what the actual food would cost. Several patrons of the restaurant glanced over as they sat down.
“Any allergies, mademoiselle? Monsieur?” A waiter appeared, wearing a black shirt and tie.
“No, not for me,” Cecily said, as Liam, too, shook his head.
“Sparkling or still water?” he asked.
“Still, please,” Cecily managed. If wine cost $150, she didn’t want to know what soda water might be. She pressed her red skirt down, as the waiter reached over and draped a white napkin across her lap.
“Wine pairing tonight?” He glanced at Liam.
“Yes, please,” he said before Cecily could argue. The waiter nodded and left.
“But it’s so expensive,” she said. “How can you...”
“I just got paid, and you deserve a nice meal.”
Cecily blinked fast. “Yes, but...” She turned the menu over, as if hoping the prices would magically appear. “But this seems...extravagant. This isn’t...normal.”
“Sure it is. It’s the normal you deserve.” Liam flashed a smile and Cecily’s stomach warmed.
“Are you trying to butter me up? Flattering me like this?”
Liam shrugged. “I just tell the truth.” He leaned forward, and beneath the table their knees touched. Cecily felt a bolt of electricity run up her spine. “Did you see how everyone looked at you when you came in? And some, even now, can’t take their eyes off you.” Liam subtly nodded to a table of two couples. The men were staring at her, but the women, she noticed, seemed intent on Liam. As did the waitress of the table next to theirs.
“You’re getting just as much attention,” she pointed out, as she reached across the table and took his hand.
“They’re all looking at you,” Liam insisted. She wondered how a man so gorgeous also seemed so humble. The waiter brought the first course, a delicate small white ball with a sprig of green, and rattled off quite a lot of words, many French, and none that Cecily understood.
“He said it’s crab with butter and herbs,” Liam said.
“You speak French?”
“I learned it in grade school.” Cecily stared at Liam, surprised. She never took a foreign language in grade school. A little bit of Spanish in high school, but that was about it for Cecily.
“Where did you grow up again?” she asked, curiosity piqued.
“New York,” he said, vaguely. Too vaguely. The waiter came then, pouring a white wine in their empty wineglasses.
“What part?” Cecily glanced down at the many forks and knives by her plate, including two small forks at the top of her place setting. She bit her lip. Which one should she use? She rarely ate at fancy restaurants, and when she did, normally they simply changed out utensils with each course. Cecily reached for the inner fork, but hesitated. It looked too big for an appetizer.
“Start on the outside, and move your way in,” Liam suggested, picking up the small fork on the outside.
“Oh, thanks.” She took the fork, wondering how he knew that. Then she felt a tad guilty. Why wouldn’t he? Because he was a roofer with calloused hands? So what. Since when had she gotten elitist? “Where in New York did you grow up?” she pressed, even as she gently spooned some of the small appetizer into her mouth and nearly forgot she had asked the question. It was like perfection on her tongue: beautiful buttery goodness. She’d never tasted anything so wonderful. She snatched up the other bite, and then realized with acute disappointment her plate was empty.
“Upper East Side,” he said, so softly that she almost didn’t hear him.
“Upper East Side?” Cecily echoed. “But that’s...” She stopped herself. That was where rich people lived. Cecily had never lived in Manhattan, had not even been able to afford a decent apartment there, which is why she’d landed in New Jersey. But she knew enough about New York to know where the expensive neighborhoods lay.
“Yeah. It’s...that.” Liam finished his appetizer, and then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. He looked as if he wanted to change the subject, but Cecily wasn’t sure she could let it go.
“I thought only the super wealthy live there.”
“They mostly do,” Liam said, noncommittal.
She then remembered him talking about the fight over his father’s estate. Okay, so there was probably more to that story. She’d made assumptions about him, about his background, that weren’t true. When he said his brothers fought over the will, she thought it was maybe a few thousand dollars. Or the family’s modest home. “But now you prefer dive bars in New Jersey.” Cecily couldn’t help but tease him. She was still trying to process the fact that he knew French and which fork to use in a fancy restaurant.
“Definitely.” Liam grinned.
“So, tell me. What was that like on the Upper East Side? I grew up near Cleveland in a blue-collar neighborhood. Everyone in my family thinks I’m a little crazy for moving out here.”
Liam sighed. “I’d rather not talk about my family.” A wall came up then, a big no-trespassing sign right there on the freshly laid brick. She’d hit a sore spot, and she knew it. Still. This was supposed to be a get-to-know-you dinner, wasn’t it? Wasn’t Liam the one who claimed not to do casual?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” But at the same time, who got so defensive about one’s family? It made Cecily want to know more. But the determined set of Liam’s jaw told her she wasn’t going to get more. At least, not now.
The waiter came then, whisking their empty plates away.
“Let’s talk about you,” Liam said, raising his wineglass. She’d forgotten about the white wine. She took the thin glass stem between her fingers and raised her glass and clinked it against his. “Cheers,” she said, as the awkwardness floated away.
She stared into Liam’s brown eyes and felt at home there. She wondered how she already felt like she’d known him a long time. Cecily didn’t believe in reincarnation, not really, but part of her couldn’t shake the feeling they’d met before. Or they were meant to meet. One way or another, she felt fate was involved. She’d never felt as connected to a person in so short a time before. Even a person who seemed determined to keep some secrets, determined to keep the spotlight on her instead of him.
Liam’s eyes brightened again as he took a sip of wine. “Tell me about your childhood.”
“I had one older sister, and we both shared a bedroom in our small house,” she said, hoping that if she divulged more of her own background, he’d do the same. “Mom worked in a hair salon, my sister as a cashier at the local grocery. Neither went to college. Dad, before he passed on, was a plumber. I was the first one to go on to college, and the first one in a couple of generations to move out of Ohio.”
“Felt like you didn’t fit in there?” Liam studied her as if he understood. He’d referenced his own family troubles, and the fights that had left him on the outside looking in.
“Right,” she said. “I didn’t have a big blowup or anything, I just... I just wanted more from life, I guess. I love my family dearly, but they’re all so focused on exactly what’s all around them. I wanted to live in a big city, you know? In the town where I grew up, it was all hamburgers and chicken fingers. Nothing like this.” She glanced around the fancy French restaurant, knowing exactly how her sister would see it. Too upscale, too fancy for her tastes. But Cecily, even when she was a kid, yearned for adventure. Yearned for something different, something exciting. That’s what drew her to New York. “There’s nothing wrong with where I came from, it’s just not the life for me.”
“You’re kind.”
“I love my family. And I’m glad they’re happy where they are. And they’re happy I’m happy where I am.” At least, until they hear the cancer isn’t treatable.
“How much do they know? About the cancer?” Liam’s dark eyes grew soft as he leaned closer, his knee against hers offering a reassuring pressure.
“They know I have cancer. Neither one knows there are no good treatments.”
“That you know of,” Liam corrected, sipping his wine.
“Right.” She laughed, rueful. “Do you know of some kind of expert or something? You’re a roofer and a medical expert?”
“I have friends,” he said, vaguely. “I also know not all doctors are equal.”
“Right.” She nodded. She reached for her wineglass but found it nearly empty. She swallowed the last sip and sighed. The last thing Cecily wanted to do was spend time talking about her cancer over this amazing dinner. Thankfully, the waiter brought the next course: once more, something unidentifiable, but that looked delicate and delicious.
“It’s the salad course,” Liam offered, even as Cecily stared at the small round yellow circle on top of the white circle.
“I don’t see any greens,” she exclaimed. “What kind of salad is this?”
“A root vegetable salad,” he said, as the waiter filled up their glasses with a new wine, this one a rosé.
“Oh.” Cecily wasn’t even sure what that meant. She took a crunchy bite, though, and instantly her mouth fell in love with the citrus vinaigrette. “Mmm,” she moaned, as she finished the last bite. She glanced up to see Liam studying her intently. The focus of his stare made her feel suddenly warm. She laughed a little uneasily. “Sorry. I just never have tasted a salad that good.”
“You shouldn’t apologize,” Liam said. “You’re beautiful. That’s why I’m staring.”
Cecily shifted, a little uncomfortable, in her seat. “I bet you say that to all the women you date.”
“Only if it’s the truth. And, besides, I don’t date that many.” Liam shrugged.
“You don’t take them all to fancy restaurants like this?”
Liam laughed. “No. I’d be broke.”
Cecily laughed, too.
“But, seriously, I don’t date around.”
“Right. You told me you don’t do casual.” Cecily still couldn’t quite believe it. Who was this perfect man who’d fallen into her lap? Saved her from a heckler at a bar, and now when he ought to be running for the door, was stubbornly staying put. She would’ve thought he loved to play the field, make women fall in love with him.
“No, I don’t.” He reached across the table and took her hand again. It felt warm, strong and steady. “I’m just not wired that way. Life is too short to play around when you’re not serious. I don’t have time for people I don’t want in my life, and I go after the ones I do.”
Cecily felt her throat go dry. The way he was looking at her right at that moment was like a collector of expensive art, and she was the masterpiece he’d been looking for. She felt rooted to the spot, but also, strangely flattered. He could have any woman he wanted, most likely, and he seemed to want her.
“How do you know you want a person in your life?”
“I just know,” he said, with a confidence Cecily wished she felt. “I want you in my life, Cecily.”
Cecily suddenly felt overcome with emotion, surprising her. “You do?”
“Yes, for as long or as little as that may be.”
Why was this man, this beautiful man, so determined to be with her? She had no time. She had no future. Yet, she could see the promise in his eyes, and that made her heart both swell and feel heavy all at once. Could she, at long last, have met the man meant for her? Just at the very point in her life when she found out she had little time left. It seemed cruel. Beyond cruel.
“Excuse me, I...uh. Just need to go to the bathroom,” Cecily said. She pushed back her chair and headed to the ladies’ room, tears pricking her eyes. How had she gotten so involved with a man she’d only just met, when she knew, without a doubt, she had nothing to offer him?