Listed: Volume III (13 page)

Not
this time.

“Paul?”
she breathed, stepping around so she could see his face. Her eyes scanned his
face and then darted down below his chest to the obvious bulge in his pants.
“Oh.”

“I’m
sorry,” he managed to say.

“I
didn’t…” Her voice faltered. Her eyes were lowered now, and her cheeks were
very pink. “I didn’t think you were…I didn’t think you thought about me that
way.”

He
swallowed. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable with him. She might be
hesitant around him, might not want to sleep in his bed. But what the hell else
could he say in response to her comment, when the truth was more than obvious.
“I do.”

“I
didn’t know.”

“It’s
fine,” he said, finally letting go of the drawer and rubbing his face in an
attempt to pull it together. “It’s an involuntary response. But it’s probably
better you not…you not touch me like that.”

“Oh.”

He
was too embarrassed and too worried about her reaction and his lack of control
to study her expression. He just grabbed a pair of pajama pants. “I’m going to
take a shower. There’s an easy way to take care of it. It’s nothing for you to
worry about.”

“Oh.
Okay.”

Paul
hurried into the bathroom before he changed his mind and gave into his lesser
instincts.

Emily
was in bed when he came back out of the bathroom, his body clean and relaxed. He
turned out the light and climbed in beside her. He knew she was awake and
looking at him in the dark.

“I
don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he said, pleased that his voice was
casual and controlled, “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Okay,”
she said, “Should I…”

“Should
you what?”

“Should
I not sleep all over you at night? I didn’t realize that—”

“It’s
fine. Nothing has changed. You can do everything you’ve done before. I’ll tell
you if I need you to stop.” To prove his point, he reached out for her and
pulled her against his side.

She
nestled against him in her favorite position. She was warm and soft against
him, but his body was fortunately satisfied for the moment. He held her close.

After
a stretch of silence, she murmured, “I didn’t think you even thought I was
pretty.”

He
made a choked sound of indignation. “I’ve told you plenty of times that you’re
absolutely—”

“Yeah,”
she broke in, “And I appreciated it. But I didn’t think you really meant it.”

Paul
shook his head in the dark. She really had no idea how absolutely irresistible
he found her, and the only way he’d be able to convince her was to move into
territory he’d vowed to avoid.

Sometimes,
lately, he couldn’t even remember all of the sound, rational reasons for not
having sex with Emily he'd always lectured himself on. His defenses were
getting very weak.

All
he said was, “I did.”

*
* *

Tears filled Paul's
eyes and then streamed down his face, despite how he tried to suppress them.

He
stared wetly down at the cutting board he was working on and muttered, “You
gave me the onions on purpose.”

Emily
laughed, working through a pile of wild mushrooms with her knife. “Of course, I
did. It’s my birthday. I shouldn’t have to chop onions on my birthday.”

Paul
raised one shoulder in an attempt to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of his
shirt as he chopped through the onions as quickly as he could. “Is that a
rule?” He sniffed as another pungent wave of onion wafted up to him. “Wow,
these onions are strong.”

“It’s
just common sense. You shouldn’t have to do anything unpleasant on your
birthday.” Finishing her mushrooms, she grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his
cheeks and eyes.

When
Paul could see clearly again, he saw that Emily’s eyes were soft on his face.
“I never thought I’d see you cry.”

“And
all you had to do was make me chop onions.”

Emily
had told Paul several times that she didn’t want to do anything special for her
birthday. At breakfast that morning, she’d given him a serious look. “Paul,
you’re not planning anything big today, are you? I told you I didn’t want to do
anything high-maintenance. It would make me…sad.”

He’d
understood and respected her wishes, although he’d really wanted to plan
something elaborate to celebrate her birthday, some sort of grand gesture that
would make the day special, unforgettable.

That
wasn’t what she wanted, though. So, after breakfast, they’d wandered around the
neighborhood and stopped by all the places she loved.

The
Masons had wanted to have a birthday get-together for Emily, inviting all of
her old friends, but Emily had suggested they do something casual the following
day without any presents or cake, explaining that way it wouldn’t feel so much
like her wake. So Paul and Emily were making dinner together tonight, and that
was all the birthday celebration she wanted to have.

Paul
was trying very hard not to think about the fact that Emily was finally eighteen.

And
they would be sharing a bed again tonight.

Finished
with the onions, Paul went over to wash his hands and wipe his eyes. “Do you
want me to chop the garlic?”

“I’ve
got it,” she said, going back to cloves she was pulling out of the garlic bulb.
“You can get the shrimp ready.”

“It’s
mostly ready. They peeled and deveined it for us already.” Paul inspected the
package of large, beautiful shrimp he’d set on the counter earlier.

“Then
you can get the pan ready.”

Paul
obediently went over to the stove and turned on an eye to heat up the pan.

The
dinner preparations continued and were mostly uneventful, with the exception of
Emily’s dumping flour on the counter and getting it all over her red v-neck top
and then somehow his shirt as well.

When
they finished the pasta with shrimp, mushrooms and wine cream sauce, Emily
prepared their plates and carried them outside to the terrace to eat. While
Paul grabbed the bottle of champagne he’d chilled earlier, Emily lit candles on
the table and laid out the napkins and flatware.

Emily
was smiling as she started to sit down, but then she noticed Paul pick up the
champagne bottle to uncork and she frowned at him suspiciously. “That looks
like it might be expensive. I told you I didn’t want anything special. Just a
normal dinner.”

“Of
course not,” Paul lied with a quirk of his lips. “Not even mid-level.” He
showed her the label, hoping she wouldn’t recognize the very exclusive brand.
He’d on purpose not chosen Dom Pérignon, since she would very likely know it by
reputation. “But what’s a birthday without champagne?”

Emily
laughed as she watched him pop the cork and pour the bubbly wine into her
crystal flute. “You’ve come a long way in your willingness to serve alcohol to
a minor.”

He
arched his eyebrows, making her laugh again, as he poured out champagne for
himself too. It would be hypocritical for Paul to hold Emily to the drinking
age, since he’d never followed it himself.  Plus, not allowing Emily, in the
last months of her life, to enjoy wine with a meal—one of the fundamental ways
of celebrating occasions for thousands of years in human history—was simply
wrong. It had only made him uncomfortable at first, since he’d been so set on
thinking of her as very young.

He
thought about her differently now, and she was going to have champagne on the
last birthday she might ever have.

Emily
was smiling at him as he sat down across the table from her. The evening was
crisp but not cool, and Emily looked absolutely beautiful in the flickering
shadows of the candlelight.

She
picked up her champagne flute and took a sip, closing her eyes as she did.

“Good?”
he asked, watching the nuances of expression cross her face.

She
nodded. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Paul
took a sip too and allowed the bite and bright effervescence of truly excellent
champagne to hit his tongue with undeniable pleasure. “Happy birthday,” he
murmured, when he lowered his glass.

“Thank
you,” Emily said again. “For everything. I know you wanted to do something big
for my birthday, but…”

“But
nothing. I wanted your birthday to be good for you, no matter what it took.”

“This
is good for me, and it doesn’t feel so much like the end.”

Paul
glanced away at her words. “This isn’t the end, Emily. You have months left to
live. You have a lot of good things left to do. And we don’t know what will
happen in the meantime.”

He
didn’t say it, but she might be cured. He wasn’t giving up hope that it could
happen. Sometimes, that hope was the only thing that allowed him to enjoy any
of these moments. The most likely future would rise up in his mind like a
pitch-black shadow, threatening to completely swallow him up. But, whenever it
did, he forced it back, forced it down.

Emily
might not die, and if let himself think about how he would feel if she did, he
wouldn’t be able to make it through another day. He wouldn’t be able to be here
for Emily now, when she needed him.

That
was something he couldn’t allow.

She
nodded and smiled, a little poignantly. “Anyway, I’m not going to mess up a
perfectly lovely meal by dwelling on that.” She took a bite of her pasta. “I
think we did a pretty good job with it.”

Dinner
was good. The food was excellent and, although they were quieter than usual,
the mood didn’t feel awkward or sad. When they were done, Paul made Emily stay
in her seat as he went back into the kitchen to bring out the cake he’d had
made for her.

It
was a tiny cake—just big enough for two people. It was decadent chocolate lava
cake and decorated with a single live orchid. He also told someone to bring in
Emily’s birthday presents.

Emily
was delighted with her cake, and she paused in front of the single candle to
make a wish.

She
slanted him a look that was almost shy just before she blew out the candle, and
he wondered what she wished.

He
knew his wish would have been for her to live a long, healthy life.

Since
the cake was too messy to serve into separate plates, they both ate from the
same dish. Emily moaned in pleasure over every bite. That sensual sound,
combined with the sight of her tongue greedily licking at the fork and her
lips, wreaked havoc on Paul’s body.

To
keep himself from doing something very stupid, he got up to bring out Emily’s
presents.

She
was cleaning off the plate, but she stopped, with the fork midway to her mouth,
when she saw that it took Paul three trips to bring out all the presents he’d
bought her.

Her
mouth dropped open in shock. Then she turned to glare at him.

He
had to suppress a smile of amusement, but he managed to give a nonchalant
shrug. “Is there a problem?”

“I
told you not to do anything big!”

“I
thought you meant for a birthday party,” he said, feigning surprise. “I didn’t
think I wasn’t allowed to buy you a few presents.”

Emily
stared at him for a moment. Then she stared at the pile of at least sixteen
wrapped boxes on the patio. Then she collapsed into laughter. “A few presents?
Don’t act all innocent with me. You defied my wishes on purpose!”

“What
would you expect?” he asked with a smile, feeling warm at the sight of her
obvious affection for him. “What else would I do?”

Paul
had been looking forward to Emily’s opening her presents since he’d bought them
a couple of days ago, and he wasn’t disappointed.

She
opened the biggest present first. She screamed with laughter at the
top-of-the-line luxury tent she unwrapped. Most of the rest of the gifts were
also camping supplies for the trip he’d planned for them to Prince Edward
Island next week. She loved all of them, including the hot-water-on-demand
portable water heater and the gourmet camping coffeemaker.

He’d
had a lot of trouble figuring out what to buy for her birthday, since most of
the things he would have naturally chosen would make her think about how little
time she had left to enjoy them. The ludicrously expensive camping gear was a
good choice, though, since they had an immediate occasion to use it and every
new item made Emily laugh even more.

He’d
gotten her a couple of other things too, though. One was a delicate music box
that opened to display a crystal ice-skater who twirled to the tinkling tune of
a cheesy power ballad. He’d had to commission it and pay an exorbitant amount
to have it completed in time.

As
she stared down at the little ice-skater spin to the music, she choked on a
mingling of laughter and tears.

The
last gift she opened was even smaller. When she pulled away the paper, she
revealed a velvet jewelry box. She gasped and looked up at him questioningly.

He
gave a diffident shrug and hoped she wasn’t going to be upset by it. She’d
loved the music box, but she wouldn’t know how expensive it was. This gift was
obviously expensive.