34. kisses, gifts, gestures
CHAPTER 34
KISSES, GIFTS, GESTURES
LINCOLN
The Playhouse Theatre is an intimate space in midtown, a relic of an older time but still standing strong. It’s gotten a facelift in the last few years, and they’ve done a commendable job keeping to the original aesthetic. Of course, it’s not the building that has captured my attention.
While Ivy takes in the view, I only have eyes for her. Wonder and hope brighten her eyes like stars, like those I remember reflected in them the night of the masquerade, standing with her heart beating under my fingertips and my own reaching out for her in a way I didn’t understand until now.
Christ, if she doesn’t stop looking so gorgeous, I’ll have to throw myself into oncoming traffic, or better yet, propose.
Ivy turns to me, her mouth open. “When you said you had a surprise for me, I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Do you like it? I’ve never bought a theatre before.”
“What? Lincoln, no you can’t buy me a theatre. What the hell would I do with it?”
“Whatever you like.”
She stares up at me, lip caught between her teeth, her eyes intense with an emotion I can’t quite read.
It’s possible I just fucked up.
Then Ivy is stretching up, pulling me down with one hand clenched in my shirt and kissing me once, hard.
It’s everything I’ve been holding back from taking, but it’s barely a bruise before she’s pulling back.
Worse than missing the chance to return it, is the sight of regret pinching the spot between her eyes.
“Wait, sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Can we just cut that and pretend it never happened?”
I doubt I’ll ever forget a single moment with her for the rest of my life, but I nod anyway and watch the relief sap the tension from her body.
“Great,” she says, taking a step back. I already miss having her in my arms. “God, you can’t be real. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from this dream, but you’re still here.” She’s staring up at the freshly painted awnings. There’s no doubt the building is a beauty, but there’s nothing else I’d rather be looking at but her.
“How did you even arrange this?” she asks. “They don’t do venue tours after two.”
The backstage door swings open, and Francis looks gleeful. “Yes, but Don Juan here has friends in high places,” he says in his clipped British tone.
Ivy’s jaw drops open. “You’re Francis Byrne. I absolutely adored you in The Sacred Link .”
Francis’s eyes sparkle, and I know immediately Ivy has him under her spell. Join the club.