Page 42 of David's Chase

Also hidden in her writings was the fact that David had inspired her to morph into someone elsewithoutasking her or discussing that aspect of her life with her.

Something in him talked to that woman in her, and I know exactly what she meant.

I felt the same.

So, all prepped up, I waited for the car to pick me up and take me to the airport.

He made arrangements for everything. The rides, the charter flight, and the intimate dinner at an undisclosed location.

I’m giddy about doing this.I also feelsafe.

What a beautiful word.

Truly.

If there was one thing about the men I’d spent time with in the past was that I'd never felt safe with them. And it wasn’t about being physically harmed by them.

It had to do with them letting me down.

With him, I have no fear. I’m not nervous, jittery, panicked. He doesn’t make me guess, and what a beautiful feeling that is.

I wish I could share it with the entire world, but for now, all I can do is to fiercely protect my most guarded secret.

LIZ

The car rollsto a smooth stop in front of the hotel.

“Give me a second,” the driver says, producing an umbrella.

“Sure.”

My eyes go to the lavishly lit entrance.

What a beautiful sight.

I don’t get to see much inside as people block my view, but I see enough of the vast lobby.

Crystal chandeliers, massive furniture, and the nostalgic feel of a long lost world.

I pick up my purse when the door opens, and I step outside when a familiar voice echoes a few steps away from me.

“I’ll take it from here,” David says, and the driver gives him the umbrella.

David closes the distance between us and protects me from the rain.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes glinting like gemstones, almost touched by the drizzling rain and the somber dark of the fall.

A soft smile curves his lips, and it feels like he’s an old friend I’m about to spend the evening with, drinking wine and sharing personal stories.

“Hey,” I say, grinning softly.

Maybe it’s not the best idea or the moment for doing that, but I want to breathe life into that nagging belief that we are two old friends meeting on a stormy night in a legendary city to write a remarkable chapter in our lives.

So I pull closer to him, push up onto my toes, and tilt my lips to him. Without the slightest hesitation, he lowers his mouth, and I place a sweet scented kiss on his lips.

The driver moves away, and we are still connected, no longer kissing, his arm looped around my waist, my hands set against his chest.

“Was the trip all right?” he asks, his breath a billowy mist.

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