Page 153 of If Looks Could Kill
I acknowledged that I could eat.
He grinned. “Chop suey?”
My stomach lurched. “I don’t know,” I said. “After what happened last time I ate it…”
He looked like he, too, might get sick at the thought.
“… it might take me a while to be ready for chop suey again.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get away from this rain.”
We found an awning to a women’s shoe shop, and that was where Mike kissed me.
There are times when you wish time would stop for you, and time listens to your prayer.
When I opened my eyes, I saw our reflection in the silvered window of the shoe store. There I was. ThereIwas. It was me, yet it was almost aperson I didn’t recognize. She looked so comfortable, and so glad. She was fully herself, and fully at ease, and that was striking.
This is who you are. Especially when you’re not worried about who you are. This is how those who love you see you.
“What do you see in there?” Mike inquired. “Are you in the market for new shoes?”
His eyes were bright with laughter.
“Or are you a Narcissus, in love with your own reflection?”
“Narcissa, if you please,” I said loftily. “You’ve found me out. I just stare in mirrors all day long.”
He shrugged. “I can see how, in your case, that would be a temptation.”
I gave him a shove. “Flattery won’t work on me.”
That grin again. “Want to bet?”
He wrapped his arms around me once more. “Tell me everything,” he said. “Are you back with the Army? Where will you live? What will you be doing?”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I told him. “But first, let’s eat.”
“Sure thing.” He offered me his arm. “Say the word, Miss Woodward. What’ll it be? Delmonico’s? The Union Club?”
“Are you a member?” I teased.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But give me a few years.” He squeezed my arm, threaded through his. “You were gone too long.”
“I was gone a few weeks,” I said. “Considering I was leaving forever, that’s not bad.”
“Considering you were leaving forever,” he said, “each day lasted forever.”
“Did you have a happy Christmas?”
He looked like he intended to deny it, but gave up the struggle.
“Aunt Mag is a force of nature,” he said. “It’s impossible to have anunhappy Christmas when she’s in charge. You?”
“I love my dad with all my heart,” I told him, “and theTroy-RensselaerCourierdoesn’t put out a paper on Christmas Day. That was the best part of the holiday for me.”
“I want to meet him,” Mike said. “Suppose he’ll ever leave the paper for a visit?”
“He’s threatening to,” I said. “He says he needs to investigate reports of an Irish bartender who keeps flocking around me.”
