When we finish lunch, Aiden brings out a box wrapped in purple. The color of my eyes. From the lack of bows and the precise application of the tape that matches the military organization of his home, I have a feeling he wrapped this himself.
“Happy graduation, Elisa,” he says with a raised eyebrow. I will never live that down.
I start unwrapping the box with shaking hands, careful not to tear the paper he touched. He shifts his feet minutely, looking almost nervous. I smile at such a normal reaction and peek through the tissues. What I see stuns me. A pair of brand-new sneakers exactly like my nearly dead ones. On each of their heels, in discreet, tone-on-tone stitching, I read:
Elisa C. Snow
“She walks in beauty.”
My breath leaves with a loud whoosh. Byron’s quintessential poem of revering a woman from a distance. Unattainable yet yours, in every way. And also a pun, because shoes are meant for walking. It takes me a few tries to find my voice.
“Does Byron’s poem have a special meaning to you?” Whisper is good. Any sound beyond that might spoil the moment.
“Yes.”
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Embargo.”
“Is there a reason you chose it for me?”
He smiles and brushes my cheek with one finger. The caress is so intentionally gentle—as if he is touching a mirage—that I think it is meant as an answer to my question.
“Every line in that poem reminds me of you.” His index finger trails along my jawline and over my lips.
Like before, my body implodes. Heart beating in my throat, blood pooling at the bottom of my belly. He kisses my jaw and cheek gently, like a butterfly’s wings.
His scar is close. Really close. I want to kiss it but I don’t know how he got it, so I blow on it lightly. He smiles but pulls away.
“Thank you for the shoes and the poem. I’ll wear them well.”
He chuckles. “Shall I arrange a funeral for your old sneakers?”
“No, I think they’re museum worthy. Or at least Guinness standard.”
“I’m glad for your other present then,” he says, taking a professional-looking Nikon camera out of the box. “The other one seemed ready for retirement.”
I smile, fighting a lump in my throat. Leave it to fate for an irony like this. Aiden giving me a way to preserve everything I will lose.
His index finger comes under my chin. “Are you okay?”
“You couldn’t have given me a better gift.”
He smiles as though in relief. “Not even the Hubble Telescope?”
“Not even that.”
“I’ll cancel my order then. Now, are you ready for your painting?” he asks, excitement transparent in his voice. Bloody hell, it’s here. I feel queasy, like the salmon is swimming upstream.
“Umm—may I have another drink first?”
He smiles. “Need some ethanol-induced neurotransmitter excitation?”
I nod frantically, blushing down to my toes.
“Okay, neurotransmitter excitation, here it comes.” He pours me a glass and I down it in seconds, not bothering to look ladylike.
He laughs the first carefree laugh I have heard from him. The sound reverberates at that warm spot he ignited between my lungs. “Another one?”
“Yes, please. It can’t hurt.”
He fills it only halfway this time. I gulp it down.
“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t need another lesson on dichotomous keys—the last one kept me up all night.” He pries the glass out of my fingers.
I guess I’ve earned that. I want to ask him about staying up all night—preferably together—but I don’t think my nerves can take it. Hydrogen, 1.008. Helium— Oh, bloody hell, I don’t have time for the whole table. That’s fine—I have backup. I pull out the Baci chocolates from my purse immediately.
He looks at them and chuckles. “More emergency provisions?”
I nod and eat my leftover apple slices, then drink some water. This is how my mum taught me to eat chocolate.
“What are you doing?” Aiden asks, eyeing the last apple slice with confusion.
“Oh, sorry. This is how I eat chocolate. Would you like one?” As Javier and Reagan will tell anyone who will hear, I don’t share chocolate lightly. But Aiden could have my right arm, let alone my last chocolate.
He smiles. “Sure. But what’s the deal with apples? I’ve never heard of this.”
“They cleanse your palate.”
“And the water?”
“Cleanses the palate after the cleansing.”
“That’s a lot of cleansing.”
“Yes, but it’s worth it.”
Aiden chuckles again, eats the last apple slice, then drinks some water. He peels the Baci and pops it in his mouth. Knowing the effect his mouth has on me, I busy myself reading the note that my Baci had inside.
“Hmm, I can see the big deal. That’s quite good.” He licks his lips.
“Yes, but Baci chocolates are meant to be read to get the full effect,” I blurt out without thinking.
He looks at me like he thinks he should have built a padded room, not a painting studio.