Page 63 of Catch Me
She wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I devour the sweetness of her mouth, a wave of heat washing over me. But it’s the moment she lets out a tiny moan that my life flashes before my eyes.
Not of the past, though. The scene that plays in my mind’s eye like a motion picture is of the future.
Ourfuture.
The images are so startling that I’m forced to break the kiss. When I stare down into Ivy’s dazed eyes, I wonder if she saw the same thing as me. I don’t ask that, though, knowing for someone who was so reluctant to even come over to my place for dinner a few hours ago, all of what I want to say would have her running for the hills.
I realize that something in my mind switches. She’s no longer my obsession, but my future.
Ivy’s stomach begins to growl, interrupting the silence. She presses a hand to her stomach, embarrassed.
My frown is instantaneous. “You haven’t eaten dinner?”
She shakes her head. “I felt bad eating in your home, knowing you were working late.”
My eyes move to the clock above the TV in my living room. “It’s almost ten o’clock,” I grumble.
Without another word, I grab her hand and bring her into the kitchen.
“Sit.”
She hesitates until I point.
“We’re going to eat.”
Minutes later, both of us sit around plates filled with Chinese dumplings, rice, and steamed vegetables, eating happily.
“When you’re hungry, you need to eat,” I say, only after ensuring she’s eaten at least half of her plate.
She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t starving myself or anything. I wanted to wait until you were here.”
Though her words warm my chest, I hold the frown on my face. “I don’t like the idea of you being hungry. Especially not when there’s plenty of food available.”
A memory from my childhood of my father frowning at my mom because she’d waited until he got home from work one night so they could eat dinner together surfaces. She’d fed all of us kids, of course.
We’d all gone up to our rooms, but I’d come down for something to drink.
My dad had my mother on his lap, feeding her from his plate, all the while chastising her for not eating. Then she plucked the fork from his hand and fed him from the same plate while rolling her eyes and telling him she’d do whatever she wanted.
He grumbled, but they finished the entire meal like that. One feeding the other from the same fork.
I catch Ivy’s eyes from across the table, a smile playing at my lips.
“What?” she asks, giving me a suspicious look.
“Just thinking of the future.”
Her eyebrows raise.
“I have either sorbet or ice cream for dessert,” I say to change the subject.
“What flavors?”
“I’ve got raspberry sorbet, and rocky road, chocolate chip cookie dough, strawberry or vanilla bean ice cream.”
“Having a party?”
I chuckle. “I don’t eat many sweets, but when I want something, I typically go for sorbet. When I host the book club, my friends rag on me for my too healthy options.” I use quotation fingers around the words ‘too healthy’.
