She looked up at me. Her eyes were beautiful and shining, and filled with trust I hadn’t earned. I almost told her to forget it. That I was an asshole, and she’d be better off not speaking to me ever again.
But a part of me—the part that leapt for joy that she might stay—wanted something more with this beautiful, energetic, impulsive woman. My world had been fading to gray until she burst in like a bombshell of color and light, and dammit, I wanted it. I wanted to keep her in my life, even if only as a friend. It had to be only as a friend, and even that felt selfish and wrong. But maybe, said this little voice, I could be honest with her and let her decide for herself.
But not here. Not in my plain, little apartment. I had to take her somewhere beautiful, to show her what I was holding on to and why.
“Are you up for a field trip?”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
I breathed a sigh but it gave me no relief. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”
On the drive to wherever Jonah was taking me, my mind concocted a hundred possibilities for what he was planning to tell me. Something big. Something that warranted this excursion. And judging by the haunted look in his eyes, it wasn’t something good.
My heart clanged against my chest.
Calm down. It might not be as bad as you think.
Whatever it was, I was in. When I told him I was thinking of staying in Vegas, a future was born between us. Not a romantic one. Just…being together. A bond. We had an undeniable connection.
Soon the Eiffel Tower loomed on our right. Across Las Vegas Boulevard, the Bellagio Hotel and Casino was illuminated majestically behind its lake. Jonah turned into the casino entrance and parked.
“Another water show?” I asked.
He gave a quick smile that didn’t make it past his mouth. “Not tonight.”
The water was still and dark as we walked along it. No colored lights or dancing jets. Shivers ran up my bare arms, despite the heat. Beside me, Jonah looked handsome in jeans and a black T-shirt. The medical alert bracelet on his right wrist caught the glittering lights of the hotel.
The Bellagio’s air-conditioned lobby made me shiver harder. A few people crisscrossed the marble floors or waited at the registration desks. The refined ding of an elevator echoed off marble. Beneath my feet, a gorgeous mosaic spread out in all directions, leading to a lush seating area with potted plants. Beyond that was the registration area with elegant arches in pale cream and gold. A coffered ceiling made me feel as if I’d stepped into a Roman palace.
Then my gaze was drawn upward, to the centerpiece of the Bellagio lobby, and undoubtedly, the reason Jonah had brought me here. The ceiling’s beams flowed toward a masterpiece of light and glass. Hundreds upon hundreds of what looked like upside down umbrellas, rippling along the ceiling in riots of color.
“Fiori di Como,” Jonah said, walking beside me. “Flowers of Como by Dale Chihuly.”
“Your idol,” I murmured, staring at the magnificent bouquet of delicate glass flowers bursting from the ceiling.
“Seventy feet long and thirty feet wide,” Jonah said, his voice low and reverential. “Over two thousand pieces.”
“It’s amazing,” I said, then looked to Jonah. “Your installation is better.”
He smiled, but it was a smile laden with something beyond sadness. Something so deep and profound, I longed to turn back, to find an exit and run away from whatever it was he was going to tell me.
“Dale Chihuly is a true master,” Jonah said. “A virtuoso. I could only hope to create something like he has. Something more than just a beautiful piece of glass.”
“Like what?” I asked in a small voice.
“A legacy,” Jonah replied. “Let’s sit for a minute.”
He led me to the plush maroon couches directly under Chihuly’s blown glass. The couch was soft and invited me to slouch into its cushions, but I sat ramrod straight, bracing myself.
Jonah leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and turning his medic alert bracelet around and around. I could see him measuring words and assembling sentences, working up the courage to tell me something that was going to change everything.
“If you’re going to ask me to marry you, the answer is no,” I said. “We hardly know each other. I need at least three more cupcakes.”
Jonah laughed lightly.
“That’s not it?” I said, trying to lighten the moment but my voice wouldn’t play along. “Are you gay?”
Jonah looked at me then, his dark eyes warm and soft. “Strike two,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, swallowing hard. My next and last question stuck in my throat. Once asked and answered, my life would never be the same. “Are you sick?”
“Yes, Kacey.”
“How sick?”
“Terminally sick.”
The words dropped into the space between us like a grenade ready to blow. My chest constricted as if I’d inhaled subzero air. I nodded vigorously, spastically, as I tried to both process and reject the news.
“Okay,” I said. I raked my hands through my hair and kept them locked behind my neck. “Okay. Is it your heart?”