Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  “Sorry to leave you out here.” Ezra zipped up his sweatshirt as a gust of air raced down the street and tousled Emily’s hair. Momentarily, Ezra mused that the messy look was probably the same one she sported when she woke up in the morning. He smiled at the thought.

  “It’s okay.” She sat up and flattened the fly-away strands. “Did you find your friend?”

  “I did. Coffee’s on the house. He insisted.” He sat across the table from Emily, and instantly suffered the chill from the wrought iron through his jeans and felt badly for escaping into the heated café while she waited in the cold. He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb crocked. “You can head in for a bit if you want to warm up.”

  “No, thanks.” She hovered a hand over the heater. “I think this thing is starting to do the trick. A hot coffee would help, too.”

  Almost on cue, a young waiter in an ill-fitting, oversized white shirt strode up to the table and took their drink orders. The entire time Ezra wondered if he was the new hire and anger flamed in his stomach. By the time the kid walked away, Ezra was disgusted with himself for getting jealous over a part-time job meant for the local college population, not someone in his late-twenties with a degree but no significant job history or recent successes to show for himself.

  He glanced over at Emily slumped in her chair and looking listlessly out at the passing traffic and decided to focus on cheering her up. If he didn’t, they’d likely feed off each other’s gloominess and end up worse for it.

  “So,” he started, sitting up and drumming the table in front of them. “We talked about what you like to read and we talked about my failed novel, but I never asked if you write.”

  Emily’s face went white as she hunched further forward, rounding her shoulders. It looked like she wanted to curl into herself and disappear. Ezra held his breath, waiting to see if she’d respond and wondering what he’d said wrong.

  “I don’t write,” Emily finally answered, her gaze still glued to the street even though there were no passing cars to watch.

  “Have you ever tried?” he asked absentmindedly, still baffled by her reaction.

  “It’s not for me.” Her response came quicker this time, her words clipped.

  Reading her reaction, Ezra realized he would have to change the subject. He grabbed one of the laminated, single page menus off the table and held it up. “I’m starving, so I’m going to order some food. Do you want anything?”

  Emily shrugged and turned back toward him. “I don’t know if there is anything I can have.”

  Ezra worried her deadpan monotone showed her mood had soured more.

  “Why not?” Ezra scanned the menu jokingly, running a hand over his scruffy chin “There’s plenty of food items on here.”

  Her mouth curled into a shadow of a smile and Ezra fought the urge to pump his fist in the air victoriously.

  “I’m a vegan.”

  “Well then.” Ezra handed her the menu he held and picked up the other one. “I’m sure we can find you something. And don’t forget that I know the owner. If there isn’t anything on the menu you can eat, I’ll have him whip you up something.”

  “Fair enough.” Emily flipped the laminate over so she could read through it.

  “Oh. How about this?” Ezra shoved the menu toward her and pointed at one item. “A croissant?”

  She shook her head. “Croissants have butter.”

  Ezra pursed his lips, trying to remember the last time he’d eaten a croissant. “Yeah, I guess they do have a buttery taste.”

  Emily looked back to the breakfast offerings. After a short search, he noticed her eyes brighten like she’d come across something.

  “I can have oatmeal.” Emily placed her menu down, content with her choice. “As long as they make it with water instead of milk.”

  Ezra tossed his menu onto of hers. “Oatmeal, it is then.”

  The waiter came out with their coffees, alerting the attention of both dogs. Walt simply looked up, but Benny jumped and made a beeline for the kid. Ezra stood, nearly overturning his chair, and grabbed the dog’s leash. He’d left it loose in his lap, certain he wouldn’t need the excitable dog tethered to him the entire time they were there.

  In retrospect, he should have known better. Ezra had been so caught in his mission to cheer up Emily, he hadn’t considered that running around the dog park and walking to the café might not have been enough to tire Benny out for long.

  “Sorry about.” Ezra reeled Benny back in and the big Lab sat beside him, tail wagging.

  “It’s no problem.” The waiter placed the white and blue patterned china down, looking nonplussed. “I like dogs.”

  Ezra cautioned a glance in Emily’s direction and was pleased to see she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed or upset by the incident.

  “We’ll take two oatmeals, please.” Ezra smiled at her as he handed their menus over. “And can you as them to make it with water?”

  The waiter jotted the order down. “No problem. Your food should be out in a few minutes.”

  Benny tracked the kid’s retreat with clear interest.

  “Don’t think about it,” Ezra cautioned, leash wrapped firmly around his hand. With a loud sigh, Benny rested his chin on his paws. “Good boy.” He patted the dog’s head and looked up to Emily, who watched them with a smile on her face. “See? He can be a good dog sometimes.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Emily rested her forearms on the table and wrapped her hands around her cup. “What made you decide to order oatmeal, too?”

  He’d ordered it to get her attention, and now he found himself trying not to grin like a smug bastard knowing it worked. “What? I can’t want oatmeal?” he teased.

  “That’s not it.” She averted her gaze to the frothy, white foam on her soy cappuccino. “There’s just lots of other things on the menu that sounded good. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have gotten oatmeal if I could have a muffin or a Danish.”

  “I thought I’d have a vegan breakfast.” He lifted one shoulder, acting casual. When she glanced up between her eyelashes, Ezra threw in, “I was thinking about having a vegan dinner too, but I’m not sure where to get one.”

  He hadn’t planned to ask her to dinner. Not on Valentine’s Day of all days. He knew a lot of women built up unrealistic expectations for the day, which could make a potential first date disaster. But, even though he’d only known Emily for less than an hour, he had a good feeling she wasn’t the type who bought into all the Valentine’s commotion.

  He’d initially thought the holiday itself might be the root cause of her bad day. Ezra had known many people to feel a little down when facing Valentine’s without anyone to share it with, but after talking to Emily for a few minutes he sensed her melancholy ran deeper.

  The blush from her cold cheeks spread into her neck and ears before she looked away again. “I’ll make you dinner tonight.”

  “You don’t have to. We can go out somewhere.” Ezra never meant for her to suggest a home-cooked meal, but the offer appealed to him. He’d like to see where Emily lived, to look through the books on her shelf, and to possibly get an inkling about what was making her so unbearably sad.

  “I don’t want to go out tonight. It’ll be busy, you know, because—“ She pointed at a garland of red and pink hearts lining the sign on the restaurant across the street. “And I like cooking. It’ll be....” She raked her bottom lip through her teeth. “Fun.”

  Ezra sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee, puzzled by her reaction. Was she inviting him over so it didn’t seem like a date? After all, nothing said I’m-asking-you-out-on-a-date better than inviting a girl to dinner on a night meant to celebrate love and romance. Or maybe she wanted to avoid the crowds. Ezra had taken girls out on Valentine’s Day a few times, and never had a great dining experience. Packed rooms, long waits, and limited menus were what he remembered. A dinner between the two of them at her place would be far more intimate.

  And her bedroom would be right down t
he hall.

  “As long as you don’t mind, I would love to come over for dinner.”

  “Good.” Emily finally looked up and sipped her coffee. Her jaw was noticeably less tense, and her features had softened. With the mid-morning sun lighting her from behind, she was the most beautiful girl Ezra had ever seen, even with lingering sadness keeping her mouth pulled tight. “Do you have any food allergies? Or anything you won’t eat?”

  “I’ll try anything.” He reached forward to pick up his cup, forgetting it until he watched Emily drank hers.

  “You did order oatmeal.” Almost imperceptibly, Emily’s mouth relaxed and her eyes brightened. She was teasing him, and he liked it. “I guess you will eat anything.”

  “So I did.” Ezra took a swig of his coffee, his gaze never drifting from the fascinating woman seated across from him. “What time should I be over?”

  “Seven.”

  “Seven, it is then.”

  1:30 PM

  There were lots of things Emily should be doing right then, like grading papers and buying groceries for dinner, but she was putting Ezra’s book in her online shopping cart instead. She had hoped to get it in her hands right away so she could plow through a few chapters before he came over, but the remaining bookstore in town didn’t have a copy. She’d already spent twenty minutes reading reviews, desperate to discover if Ezra was as beautiful a writer as he was a man. He was handsome in a universal sort of way that surely made him popular with everyone. His boyish features gave off a non-threatening vibe, but his unrelenting charm and rakish smile told another story.

  Ezra’s allure wasn’t only skin deep. He apologized for the dog park incident when most people would have shrugged it off. He also seemed worried about her, which was more than she could say for anyone else in her life. Any rational human being would have run away from the strange, unknown woman crying in her car. Ezra invited her on a walk…which turned out to be exactly what she’d needed. Without even discussing what was bothering her, he’d provided the emotional support she’d been longing for. They’d stayed at the café long after the remnants of their mushy oatmeal went cold, warming their hands by the heater and talking about everything except the one thing Emily didn’t want to talk about.

  She completed the transaction, disappointed to see Ezra’s book wouldn’t arrive for at least five days. Hovering the cursor over the search bar, she considered contacting bookstores in neighboring towns to see if they had the novel in stock.

  Instead, she quickly snapped her laptop shut and got up from her desk chair.

  Ezra was slowly transitioning from the perfect distraction to a distracting obsession.

  Emily shrugged off his sweatshirt, letting it pool on the floor around her feet. Ezra had insisted she wear it home, wanting her to be warm and comfortable.

  “After all,” he’d said with that crooked smile that made her feel her heartbeat in the tips of her fingers and toes. “I can just get it back from you tonight.”

  Emily thought of taking the sweatshirt off and tossing it in the washing machine as soon as she got home, but it smelt just like Ezra: minty and clean.

  She’d finally taken it off, though, and that was what mattered. She’d run it through the wash as soon as she got home from the grocery store, scenting the sweatshirt with her lavender detergent and proving to herself that she was not obsessed with Ezra Cavanaugh.

  From her office, which was actually a converted walk-in closet, Emily padded down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. While her father and Helen had scoffed at the small size of the one bedroom ranch Emily had purchased after her first year of teaching, Emily loved the old house. Though it had been built over a hundred years before she’d bought it, the prior owners had updated everything just before Emily moved in. The kitchen boasted marble countertops and sleek black appliances. The bathroom featured a claw-foot tub, a steam shower, and mosaic tile which made Emily feel like she was at a spa. Light blue vinyl siding, white shutters, and a natural stone walkway created an inviting façade. Trees and a white picket fence wrapped around the backyard, fashioning a private oasis for Emily and Walt to enjoy. They could often be found back there in the afternoon, Walt romping through the grass and Emily reading beneath the willow tree.

  She glanced out the kitchen window at the yard, doubting they’d get out there today. Walt passed out in his plush dog bed as soon as they got back and, since Ezra was bringing Benny with him for dinner, she knew her dog would need his rest if he was going to keep up with the younger Lab.

  While Walt snored in the next room, Emily pulled a small, black box off the shelf above the microwave where she kept her small cookbook collection. There had to be over a thousand recipes housed in the Scott Family recipe box, but Emily knew exactly which one she was looking for.

  Roasted vegetable lasagna.

  It was an old family recipe passed down from generation to generation. Every person modified it to add their own personal touch. Her grandmother added summer squash and zucchini. Her mom added the fresh oregano and basil. Emily swapped out the ricotta with a cashew-based cheese she made herself. The little refinements over time had only made the dish better.

  She wanted to make something for Ezra that was familiar and thought lasagna would be a safe bet, essentially since her family’s recipe was a crowd pleaser. After setting the box on the counter, she opened it and started thumbing through the alphabetized cards. Not only did Emily have a plethora of beloved family recipes, but she also liked to experiment with a few dishes of her own she hoped to pass down to future generations someday.

  When she came across the right card, Emily pulled it from the box.

  Her breath caught at the sight of her mom’s sprawling cursive. Emily had forgotten that she hadn’t rewritten the recipe when she changed the ingredients. She’d been able to fit her legible modifications into the margins.

  The letters were large and sweeping, swirling around the card like individual works of art. When Emily had learned cursive, she was disappointed her clumsy penmanship didn’t look like her mother’s. She had worked on it every day after school, carefully toiling through each pen stroke in hopes she’d perfect it. While her handwriting was neat and exact, she never replicated her mother’s classically beautiful lettering.

  In recent years, Emily had learned calligraphy. She’d mastered many different fonts and had been commissioned by dozens of couples to write out their wedding invitations, but she still thought her mother’s penmanship was the most beautiful of all.

  Emily pressed the card to her heart and shut her eyes tight, hoping to let this unexpected reminder of her mom pass without devastating her. She took a few deep breaths and then placed the card back in the box.

  She could make the recipe from memory but always consulted it to be sure she wouldn’t forget anything. Today she would have to hope she would get it right on her own.

  Emily placed the precious box back on the shelf, left the kitchen and started back to her office with the intention of grading papers. She needed to clear her head before she went to the store.

  3:00 PM

  Ezra traversed the walkway to his childhood home with a bouquet of pink roses in each hand. Visiting the old Colonial always made him feel nostalgic. He learned to ride his first bike on the quiet cul-de-sac. He broke his wrist in second grade when he fell out of the looming oak tree in the front yard. He often spent Sunday afternoons tossing a baseball with his Dad throughout his adolescence—from when he got his first mitt on his fifth birthday until the day he packed up and went away to college. The fond memories made him smile, wishing life could be as easy as it used to be. Back then, his dreams were just dreams, not goals that constantly eluded him.

  After opening the front door, Ezra walked in the foyer and was greeted by his mom’s overactive Havanese, Ruby. The little black and white dog bounced around him like someone had attached springs to her tiny paws and she barked as if she had something very urgent to impart to him.

  Ezra shuffled th
e flowers into one hand and dug into his back pocket for a dog treat. He always broke up one of Benny’s peanut butter biscuits before he came over and snuck the pieces to Ruby while no one was looking. No one could figure out why the small dog always made such a fuss over Ezra.

  “That must be my son.” His mom’s slow Georgian drawl traveled down the hallway, signaling for Ezra to stash the treats. “I can tell by the way Ruby is barking.”

  Ezra bent to pick up the dog. She immediately started licking his face. “Careful girl,” he said as he ambled down the short, carpeted hallway toward the dining room. “Benny’s going to be jealous when I get home with your scent all over me.”

  “She can’t help but fawn over you,” his mom said as he walked into the room with the exuberant pup wiggling in his arms. “Typical female.”

  With her perfectly coiffed blonde hair, quintessential pearl necklace, sweater set collection, and exaggerated accent, Faye Cavanaugh was a thoroughbred Southern belle. Today, she had on a pair of khaki pants, expensive loafers, and a red sweater set no doubt chosen to suit the holiday. She rose from a chair at the antique maple table which had been in the family for centuries to hug her son. With Ruby and the flowers in his arms, Ezra could only lean in and kiss her cheek.

  “You’re late,” she admonished him in a low voice he knew meant she wasn’t really upset. “I was starting to worry.”

  “Sorry.” Ezra stepped back to hand her Ruby with his “please forgive me” smile. When she didn’t look particularly moved by the gesture, he offered her one of the bouquets. “I got caught up in something I was working on and lost track of time.”

  Fay’s expression brightened as she sniffed the pretty pink blooms. “A book?” she asked, her voice piqued with interest.

  Even though Ezra hadn’t had much literary success, his parents were supportive of his pursuits. He sensed that his father, a William and Mary educated lawyer who been a partner at his firm for the last thirty years, was envious of his son’s free spirit. They were both ambitious men who chose two different paths in life. Todd Cavanaugh chased financial success and notoriety, while Ezra followed his heart and dedicated himself to his creative pursuits. Ezra’s older brother, Chase, was a lot like their father. That’s why he was across the country in California tending to his psychiatry practice and not sitting around the Cavanaugh family dining room table at that very moment.