Page 43 of Just for Her
“What, right now?”
“Yes, right now. You’ve stalled enough. No more delays, Counselor.”
I went out to my car and called Allison. She answered on the first ring. Just hearing her voice made me feel better.
“Are you busy?”
“Not really. What’s up?”
“There’s someplace I’d like to show you.”
“Oh ... I don’t ...”
I understood her reticence. She hadn’t wanted to leave Miriam’s apartment all week, unwilling to draw attention to herself and the way she looked. Where I was taking her, that wouldn’t be a concern.
“Do you trust me, Ally?” I asked softly.
Another pause, and then, “Yes, of course I do.”
My heart soared. “Good. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I made it in seven. She was waiting for me, opening the door before I had a chance to knock. I might have been imagining it, but I could swear I saw hope burning in her eyes. I took it as an encouraging sign.
“What do you want to show me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
As I’d mentioned, I wasn’t the most romantic guy in the world, but it would have been impossible to grow up in my family and not have at least some sense of how to charm a woman. The secret to a woman’s heart, according to my father, was discovering what she wanted more than anything else and then giving it to her.
I’d been giving that a lot of thought. Over the past week, I’d replayed every moment I’d spent with Allison, considered every word, action, and reaction, so I thought I had a pretty good idea of what she wanted.
I drove to a scenic overlook a few miles out of town and parked. Not a lot of people knew about it, which was one of the reasons I’d chosen to come here.
“Still trust me?” I asked.
She nodded.
I got out of the car, walked around to her side, opened the door, and held out my hand, pleased when she took it without hesitation. I led her to a wooden bench someone had had the foresight to put there.
It was a beautiful night. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting for what I was about to do. Darkness had fallen in earnest. Above us, the sky was clear, and the stars glittered brightly. Below, the lights of Cecilton did the same.
“I come here to think sometimes,” I told her.
“I can see why,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
We sat in comfortable silence for several long minutes, appreciating the view. In retrospect, I should have thought to bring a bottle of wine or something, but I was essentially winging it here.
“What if you didn’t go back to Boston?” I blurted out.
I heard her sudden intake of breath, but I kept my eyes forward. My heart pounded against the inner walls of my chest while I waited for her to say something.
To sayanything.
After several interminable moments, she cleared her throat and whispered, “Why would I do that?”
All of the logical, practical reasons I’d prepared fled my mind, and I spoke from my heart, “Because ... I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t?”
