Page 112 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

She dropped her keys on the table, and he whipped around.

Elliott cocked a brow. “Whatcha doing?”

A sheepish blush crept across his cheeks. “It’s a surprise.”

“One that smells awesome.”

“That’s good because without a severe schoolmarm watching over me, I’m not sure I’m doing this right.” He turned back to the stove and after another minute of whisking, stepped back. “The first batch looked a little weird, so I started on another while that one cooked, just in case.” After stuffing his hands in red-and-white-checkered oven mitts,he bent down to pull a tray out of the oven. He slid one of two bright-red ramekins onto a plate, then presented it to her like a Christmas present.

“Actually ...” He took the plate back and set it on the table, then pulled her into his arms. “This first.” He pressed his hand to her back and bent her backward as he kissed her, eliciting a laugh from her throat.

“What is all this?” she asked when she was upright. “Why the surprise?”

His brow furrowed and his gaze caressed her face, tracing across her eyes, cheeks, lips. “The last few days have been hard. For a lot of reasons. And I don’t really know what to do. I guess I just wanted to recreate one of the best nights of my life. Which, incidentally, is the same night I met you.

“I hoped maybe we could go back in time for a little while and just forget everything. Everything but us.”

This man. “I love that idea.”

“I love you,” he said, his expression pensive. “I’m sorry I didn’t show that this week.”

She pulled one hand from his grasp and laid it flat on his chest. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to hurt and be sad. We both are. We just have to be there for each other on the good days and the bad ones.” She paused. “Especially the bad ones.”

He closed his eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He crushed her against his chest, hugging her tight. She loved the feel of his strong arms and his large, warm body around her. He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing deeply while she did the same.

She helped finish the soufflés he was working on, and while the second batch were more visually appealing, both went down just fine. As far as Elliott was concerned, if it had butter and sugar, and was chocolate-free, she’d eat it. Jamie refused to let her help clean up, so she settled onto the couch and found a new romantic comedy on Netflix. After he joined her, though, it didn’t take long to lose interest in the movie.

It started with his hand in her hair, fingers working their way down to her neck. She leaned into the massage, and he shifted to settle her between his legs so he could reach her shoulders better. His thumbs rubbed slow, deep circles along her muscles, sending her entire body melting into him, her lower back in the triangle of his thighs. His hands curved over her shoulders, gently caressing the space below her collarbone, just above the curve of her breasts.

It felt so good, and yet all she could think about was his hands moving lower.

“Relax,” he said into her ear. The tender yet commanding way he said it, combined with the press of his skin on hers, did the exact opposite.

“I can’t,” she said, voice low. She shifted, hoping to find some relief, and felt him hard against her spine. “Not when all I can think about is where else I want your hands.”

One of his hands snaked up to gently grab her jaw. He angled her face to the side and leaned up to brush his nose with hers, pausing with his lips a breath away. The fierce look in his eyes sent a rush of heat curling from her belly to her toes. Her breathing became shallow, yet she felt every rise of her chest against her shirt, her nerve endings lighting up like matches.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she put her hand on his thigh, and the second she touched him he moved. His hands dropped to her waist and he flipped her onto her back, stretching his large body over hers. He slid off his glasses and set them on the end table before his lips came down on hers, tongue slipping inside her mouth. A light burst open in her rib cage, sending shimmers of glittering rays into every corner and crevice of her heart where doubt had crept in.

When he arched his hips against hers, she sucked in a breath, followed by a moan with her exhale. “Jamie ...”

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed into her neck, kissing along the column of her throat and the curve of her shoulder. “I want you so much.”

“Yes.Please.”

His hands were everywhere. She yanked at his shirt at the same time he tugged her pants down her legs, one arm under her lower back to lift her up. When all their clothes were on the floor and his warm, strong body was poised above hers, he tipped his head forward to softly kiss her cheeks, her forehead, and finally her lips.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “Always.”

She nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

On Wednesday morning, Elliott and Jamie sat silently in the waiting room fifteen minutes before they were called back to the exam room.

Her oncologist knocked and entered a few minutes later. Dr. Varghese was a man with graying black hair, though he only appeared to be in his forties. His job probably led to a lot of sleepless nights.

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