by A. C. Arthur
“Let me get the pillows for you,” he said, and leaned over, adjusting pillows behind her head.
She couldn’t help it, she inhaled, and the scent of his cologne sifted through her nostrils. She’d missed his scent so close to her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, then tried to pull at the sheets to bring them up higher on her chest. They slipped out of her right hand and she had to use the left to pull the other side up.
“Mom said it’s time for you to eat before you can take any more of your happy pills,” he said jokingly as he moved to retrieve the tray again.
He wore jeans and a T-shirt and looked perfectly at home putting a tray of food in front of her while she sat up in bed. Funny how he could look just as good this way as he did all decked out in a tuxedo at a ball or in a boardroom donning a suit.
“They don’t make me happy,” she said, trying for a smile.
Dion laughed. “Sure they do, and they take away the pain.”
“True,” she admitted, even though she tried to be extra careful about not depending on the pills. The last thing she wanted was to become addicted to any type of pills, or anything for that matter.
“Therapy starts again tomorrow,” he said, unfolding the napkin and placing it in her lap. He took the top off the plate and grinned. “Your favorite, sloppy joes and french fries.”
Lyra smiled at the food. It was her favorite. “Did Ms. Janean cook this?”
“No. I did.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You can’t cook.”
“I’m offended,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed removing the plastic wrap from the little container that held the ketchup for her French fries. “I live alone. I had to learn how to cook.”
“I’m not convinced,” she said, watching as he picked up a fry and dipped the tip into the ketchup. She’d never liked her ketchup over her French fries, always preferred to dip them so she could control how much was on each fry.
Dion extended the food to her mouth and waited.
“Come on, try it. How hard is it to drop some fries in grease and wait for them to brown?”
Raising a brow at him she accepted the fry and chewed. It wasn’t bad. But the sandwich would be the test.
“Okay, you win, fries aren’t difficult. But nobody makes sloppy joes like Ms. Janean.”
“You’re going to eat those words,” he said, lifting half of the sandwich to her lips and waiting while she took a bite.
Lyra chewed and tasted, relished and smiled. “It’s passable,” she said, motioning for him to give her another bite.
“Aww, you just don’t want to give me my due. I know it’s good because I tasted it before I brought it to you.”
“Afraid I was going to throw you and your nasty food out, I bet,” she said after chewing. Lyra reached for her glass. Her fingers weren’t bandaged, only her wrists, since that’s where the incisions had been made. She could feel the cold condensation from the ice and the juice and took a moment to wrap her fingers around the glass securely before attempting to pick it up. With a little concentration she picked the glass up, watched as it lifted slowly. When the ice cubes began to rattle Dion covered her fingers with his and helped her move the glass the rest of the way to her lips.
“Take your time, baby. I’m right here to help you,” he said, his gaze steady on hers.
She leaned forward a little to touch her lips to the glass and take a sip. After swallowing, she let Dion guide the glass back down to the tray. “Thanks.”
“It’ll be okay,” he said, keeping his fingers on hers. “Like I said, therapy starts again tomorrow and everyone’s really optimistic about the surgery this time.”
Lyra nodded. “I know. It’s just going to take some time.”
“Right. So for the moment I’ll be at your beck and call doing whatever you need me to do.”
“Ms. Janean and Regan have been here.”
“I know, but I told them I wanted to help. Is that a problem?”
She shook her head. “The magazine’s doing really well. I know you have work to do.”
“And I’ll be sure to do my work, but when I can I want to be with you. Will you let me do that, Lyra?”
She waited a beat, wondering if there was a reason why she shouldn’t take help from her best friend. When no reason came, she smiled. “Only if I can finish eating my dinner.”
Dion’s response was quick laughter that warmed Lyra all over. “Your wish is my command,” he said, lifting the sandwich to her mouth again.
* * *
“So the show for Camille is in development. Regan’s working on her first live fashion segment that will follow the early-evening news broadcast,” Sean reported at their monthly meeting.
“Good. Good,” Reginald said. “We’re moving in the right direction.”
“I’m hearing a lot of buzz around the relationship advice column, too,” Dion added. “Is that something we might want to expand on?”
Sean tapped his pen on his notepad. “I was thinking about that, but I want to read a few more posts first. We had a new ‘Jenny’ start about six months ago. Since then the letters asking for advice have increased. I just want to make sure we’re producing steady numbers for a while longer before we think of expanding.”
“Right now it’s just a quarter page column. She’s answering, what, two letters a magazine?” Dion asked.
“Correct” was Sean’s reply.
“If the numbers are growing, the least we can do is expand to a full page, with replies to four to six letters per magazine. See how it does after that,” Bruce suggested.
Dion nodded. “I agree.”
Sean still looked a little skeptical. Actually, he looked doubtful or worried, Dion couldn’t put his finger on which. In the past weeks he’d been so caught up in what was going on with Lyra and her recovery he hadn’t had much time to talk to Sean about anything but business. He made a mental note to do that, because something was definitely bothering his younger brother.
“Let me talk to the writer first, see where her head is regarding expansion. Can we address this again at next month’s meeting?” he asked, looking directly at Dion.
Supporting his brother’s decision and respecting the fact that Sean was the expert on the magazine’s distribution and expansion efforts, Dion nodded. “Sure. We’ll put it on next month’s agenda.”
“Any word on when Lyra will be back to work?” Savian asked, bringing utter silence to the room.
Everyone looked to Dion for an answer, but Regan spoke first. “I think she needs a little more time. Therapy’s been good, but I don’t know how confident she is right now.”
“She’s getting better,” Dion offered. “But I think Regan’s right, we should give her more time.”
Bruce nodded. “I agree. Let the other staff photographers handle things for now.”
“We want her in tip-top shape when Fashion Week kicks off, so giving her a rest now is a good idea,” Regan added.
Dion wanted her in tip-top shape regardless of Fashion Week or any other business venture. That light of excitement whenever Lyra picked up a camera or snapped what she thought was the perfect shot had been absent from her eyes since the accident. That’s what he wanted back, first and foremost.
Chapter 26
It had been raining all day. Lyra had grown tired of hearing the steady pat of water against the windows in her bedroom. She’d showered and dressed in jeans and an oversize sweatshirt. It was Sunday afternoon, so the Donovans would be at church, or so she hoped.
Over the past few weeks she’d rarely had more than a few moments alone, and the moments she was alone she usually fell asleep. But today she hadn’t needed any pain medication and felt more energized then she had in a very long time. She wanted to walk outside to fee
l the breeze against her skin and to breathe, just to breathe.
On impulse she grabbed her camera and headed out the back door. It was quiet, as the rain had slowed to a dewy drip. The palm trees draped heavily and the close-cut grass glistened with moisture. She walked past the pool first, taking her time on the slick tiles as she passed. A breeze blew and the water in the pool rippled lightly. Instinctively Lyra stopped walking and lifted the camera in her hands. The fingers on her left hand shook a little as she grasped the camera, putting it up to her eye. Her right hand stayed steady as she positioned her finger over the shutter release.
A moment slipped by and the breeze blew again. Lyra watched the ripples, felt the beat of her heart pick up minutely, then pressed the release. It was a slow action, her finger moving just a few seconds after she decided to take the shot. But it had acted, she had controlled her fingers over the camera and with the tell-tale click of the camera that she’d missed immeasurably, a picture was taken.
With a smile on her lips Lyra headed for the dock, moving over the rain-slicked wood with measured steps. When she was close to the end she lifted her camera again and snapped. The clouds still hung low and dark in the sky, as if they would fall right into the water at any moment. As for the water, it looked dark and ominous. Each shot she clicked off caught the sight.
A boat was on the horizon, moving slowly through the graying backdrop. She took its picture with her heart hammering wildly against her chest.
“Lyra.” He called her name from behind.
She knew it was him and wanted to run to him and jump into his arms she was so happy. Instead she turned slowly, camera still in hand. And when he was in view she pressed her finger on the release once more. There was a click and a flash and he blinked momentarily before his lips began to spread into a smile.
“The perfect shot,” she said, smiling back at Dion.
He walked to her and as he did she snapped one, then two, then three more shots of him. When he was close enough he touched his fingers lightly to both her wrists. “You’re taking pictures in the rain?”
Lyra came up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. “I’m breathing,” she said on a giggle. “After all this time I’m finally breathing.”
* * *
His message said to meet him here and Lyra figured it was appropriate since she was starving. She’d been working half days at the magazine for a little over a week now, taking it very slow, mostly approving pictures and working on her own private shots.
Dion checked on her several times in the hours that she worked and made sure to escort her out of the building to the waiting car that would drive her back home. The doctors still hadn’t released her to drive alone yet, as her hands could be unpredictable. But they were going to get better, Lyra was certain of it.
So here she was at Shorty’s again, the place that seemed to be the spot for her and Dion. He hadn’t arrived yet, so she found them a booth and ordered water and beers for the both of them. Her cell phone rang and she reached into her purse to grab it. The action went smoothly as she’d used her left hand versus her right and put the phone to her ear after clicking it on.
“Hello?”
“You are not going to believe this!” Regan yelled on the other end as soon as Lyra answered.
“What’s up?”
“I’m going to kill him, that’s what’s up! He’s an arrogant, snotty little brat who thinks the sun rises and sets on his root beer–toned skin. I’m so sick of him at this moment I feel like choking him!”
Lyra simply nodded, with no clue as to what Regan was talking about.
“I mean really, how difficult is it to schedule an interview? Just have your secretary return my call and plug a date on your calendar. I’m doing him a favor! I shouldn’t have to beg to give him this free publicity!”
The rant continued until Lyra interrupted with, “Ah, Regan, who are you talking about?”
“Huh? What?” Regan asked.
“Who won’t grant you an interview?”
“That damned Gavin Lucas! I cannot stand him. He’s been a pain in the butt since kindergarten and now he’s creating havoc with my business.”
Lyra tried not to smile. Gavin Lucas was the owner of Spaga, the restaurant she and Regan had enjoyed lunch at months ago. He was an up-and-coming entrepreneur in the Miami area, and Infinity wanted to do a complete story on his rise from sous-chef to owner of his own specialty chain of restaurants spreading along the East Coast. The uncles had decided to put Regan in charge of the story. Lyra wondered now if it were some sort of punishment on their behalf.
“Honey, I really don’t think he’s being difficult on purpose. Of course he knows how big an opportunity this could be for him and his business,” Lyra said optimistically.
Regan was not trying to hear it.
“He’s an ass! Plain and simple. I’ve left five messages for him this week alone and have received no response. I’m not going to keep chasing him around.”
“I agree, you shouldn’t call him again. Maybe pay him a visit,” Lyra suggested. “I mean you two know each other outside of the business arena. Just show up one day and ask for the interview. He won’t be able to avoid you if you’re in his face.”
“You’re right,” Regan said after a few moments. “Absolutely right. But if he does try to ignore me I’m choking him!”
Lyra laughed. “No, you’re not. You’ve got too much class for that.”
“Nobody knows that but you,” Regan said, laughing herself. “Where are you anyway?”
“Waiting for Dion at Shorty’s.”
“I don’t know why the two of you love that place so much. Well, I’ll let you get to your date. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“No problem. And no choking anyone.”
“Right.” Regan laughed before disconnecting the line.
She was smiling when he approached the table, slipping her cell phone into her purse. In the days since Dion had first seen her taking pictures out in the rain he’d seen Lyra smiling a lot. He’d also seen that little spark in her eyes when she did. He liked both.
“Happy to see me?” he said sliding into the booth across from her.
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m smiling. Regan is flipping out over the Gavin Lucas interview.”
“Oh, that,” he said with a grin of his own. “Those two have been butting heads since grade school. This interview should be interesting.”
“I don’t understand why they gave it to Regan. She usually does the fashion work.”
“Uncle Reginald figured it was best, since she knows Lucas.”
“But don’t the rest of you know him, too?”
“Not like Regan.”
“No, Regan hates him.”
Dion chuckled. “We know.”
Lyra finally caught on. “That’s cruel.”
“Regan will be fine, she just needs to learn how to rein in her temper. But I didn’t invite you here to talk about Regan,” he said, signaling for the waiter so they could order.
When the orders were in she looked at him expectantly. “Okay, so why did you invite me here?”
“Because I have a present for you,” he said, reaching into the bag he’d brought with him.
Dion placed the box on the table and watched as her eyes went from the box to his face then back to the box again.
“It’s not my birthday,” she said.
“I’m aware of that.”
She waved a hand at him. “I meant, why did you get me a present when we both know it’s not my birthday?”
“Because I wanted to,” he told her, pushing the box closer to her. “Now, before you open it I want to tell you something.”
He knew she wanted to open it immediately. Her fingers probably tingled with anticipation the way they always seem
ed to do when she was faced with a gift. He remembered many Christmases when they’d all trudged down the steps to open gifts. He and Sean had always raced to open their boxes while Lyra had taken her time, carefully unwrapping each gift that had her name on it. Even though she’d moved slowly, removing the tape as neatly as she possibly could, then folding the wrapping papers as if somebody was actually going to save it, her eyes had given her anticipation away. Just as they did now.
“Okay, what do you want to tell me?” she asked, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward to watch him eagerly.
He almost laughed at her struggle for patience but instead he reached across the table, taking both of her hands in his. Slowly, his thumbs scraped over the short scars left at both her wrists from her surgery. He lifted each to his mouth and kissed.
“I thought I lost you in that accident,” he began, his voice low, deeper than he’d anticipated. “Then afterward, when you were alive but you wouldn’t talk to me, it still felt like I’d lost you.”
“I apologize for pushing you away,” she began to say, but Dion silenced her with a shake of his head.
“No need to apologize. I should have been more sympathetic to your needs. I can’t believe how hard that was for me, considering how close we’ve been over the years.”
“You’ve always been sympathetic to me, Dion.”
“That’s why it shouldn’t have been so hard. But this time it was and it took me a while to figure out why. I mean, I’ve known this for quite some time now, but it really hit me when you were sick.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you, Lyra.”
She smiled at him and replied, “I love you, too, Dion.”
He shook his head because even though this was the first time they were both openly admitting this to each other, he didn’t think Lyra was really hearing him.
“I’ve loved you for years. It’s been a part of me like eating and drinking. There hasn’t been a day in years that I haven’t thought about you, needed to see you or speak to you. And even though you were miles away there was never a moment that I thought I wouldn’t be able to do either or both. As you’ve said on many occasions, I’m used to getting what I want, when I want.”
